#ooc: forgot to reply to your tag before but it’s not too mean i promise! lol

[hanna-oc-irl]

Only insecure people get upset about being called insecure :)

You are lame. Lame ass.

Your weird.

- @hanna-oc-irl

*you’re

and I think i’m a little more than just ‘weird’

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Kiss you godless

My Masterlist  

Pairing: Modern!AU Hvitserk/Reader

Summary: Hvitserk agreed to a no-strings-attached arrangement without thinking twice about it. Now, almost eight months into it, he finds himself lingering for too long on the curve of your smile and the sweetness of your voice. It probably means nothing, right?

Word Count: 8.5k (this really got away from me, I hope it isn’t too much)

Warnings: 18+. Smut. Fluff and Angst. Sub!Hvitserk. D/s dynamics. Oral, female and male recieving. Tiny mentions of (past) wax play, and also of (past) subdrop. Marking, biting, tiny (the tiniest) bit of blood play. Edging. Aftercare. Latina!Reader (we going full self indulgent here, mijas) but it is easily overlooked, just a few terms of endearment. A surprising amount of plot in my pwp. And, most importantly maybe: this is most likely very OOC, I don’t have a good grasp on Hvitserk, so I apologize in advance lol

A/N: You all know who to blame for this. This is a horny version of hostage exchange between me and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ where we give each other sub!Hvitserk pieces, that’s it.

Read hers here!

This was so fucking fun to write, so I owe ya one Ana, thank you for ‘requesting’ this. Hope you like it!

Sorry I forgot to tag you @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​, here ya go, have this behemoth of a one shot Hvitserk smut 😉😘

Title from the quote: “She pins you to hotel doors - not a goddess anymore, but she still looks like religion in high heels. She kisses you godless. Whispers, we dress like princesses to go out and kill kings.” Ashe Vernon

The familiar sound of his phone startles Hvitserk out of a dreamless sleep, and before he can ask himself why and how he has Pavlov-ed himself into alertness by hearing your ringtone alone, he’s unlocking his phone to check the simple message.

Hey.

Hey yourself.

Did I wake you?

Squinting at the blinding light of the screen, he types his answer.

No, couldn’t sleep.

Your own reply doesn’t take long.

Liar.

He can hear the teasing tone in your voice, can picture your daring smile, as if you were whispering the word by his ear, and he chuckles to himself.

Fine, you caught me. What are you going to do with me?

Your answer takes too long, entirely too long. Or maybe he is clinging to whatever it is you will say so much so that he doesn’t realize not much time passes until you send your reply.

Depends. How fast can you get here?

Hvitserk sits up on the bed, disbelieving.

You’re here?

Yep.

After that message there’s the name of a hotel near the airport, simple directions on how to get to your room, and the promise reception knows you are awaiting a guest.

He’s scrambling out of bed by the time another message arrives.

With the sudden idea that you could be as cruel as to lie about having return to Kattegat, he grabs his phone again, only to find a picture of your crossed legs from above, your hand reaching down between them, though the view is obscured by the lace panties you insisted on keeping on. Goddamn tease.

If I get myself off before you get here, you won’t get to.

He doesn’t know if that means you won’t let him get you off or you won’t let him get off at all himself, but he doesn’t intend to find out.

He rushes out, passing by Ivar and his girl cuddling on the couch, and offering only a gesture at his brother’s grumbles about Hvitserk looking like an addict, chasing after his next fix in the dead of night.

He isn’t be too far off, really.

____

Your arrangement started the better part of eight months ago, after a night of too many Østersø Colas -even then he should have known he was gone for, making that too-sweet monstrosity over and over because you’d pout whenever he tried having you drink anything that wasn’t that- and even more shared secrets; you stumbled into the realization that you were…compatible.

A lot of -sober- talking later, and you decided to give it a shot, with the reassurance from Hvitserk that no friendship is possibly ruined by sex and least of all sex as fun as the one you two were planning on having.

���Colors works just fine for me. Anything else?” He asks, eyebrows raised. You shake your head, and there’s the beginning of a teasing smile on your lips that he cannot help but be drawn to.

Hvitserk leans closer, but you lean back. He meets your eyes with a frown you reach up to smoothen.

“What are you doing?” You drawl out, head tilted to the side and smile annoyingly smug. He loves it.

Taking a deep breath, he concedes,

“I really want to kiss you right now,” You stay silent, a quirk of one eyebrow that makes heat run through him. Hvitserk sighs, “Are you going to make me beg already?”

You drop the ruse with a breathy laugh and a shake of your head, but it is your hand at the back of his neck that makes him cross the distance and finally claim your mouth, so he isn’t so sure he wasn’t asking for permission then.

Surrendering to the pull and moving to lay between your legs, he loses himself in the feel and taste of you, in the thrill that runs down his spine when you muffle a kittenish moan against his lips, a wordless praise that fills him with warmth.

But before he is ready for you to, you pull back, leaving him to chase after your lips like some eager boy. Your smile is soft when you reach to trace his bottom lip with the tip of one finger, and he does not much mind showing how eager he is if such softness is the reward.

“Are you sure, Hvitserk?” Your eyes search his, more clarity in them than he would like to see, but he guesses that’s a good thing, that you keep a clear head.

He doesn’t hesitate to nod, leaning down to steal another quick kiss, “I’m sure. I trust you, yeah?”

It took a lot getting to where you two are now, he knows that. That makes falling for you somehow worse, when he thinks about it. But at the same time, it makes it almost inevitable, that he would get to know you like this and fall in love with you.

You leaving to spend a couple of weeks with your family wasn’t what made him realize he wants you much more than he gives away, or that he wishes for more than just play between the two of you, he has known for a long time now.

Your absence just made it all the worse, making him realize how much he has grown used -dependent- on hearing your voice during his day, on seeing you just because, on knowing you’re there within reach.

During these infernal two weeks he has had to stop himself from calling you with no other excuse than missing the sound of your voice, or asking you to video call him just so he can see that adorable little smile you grant him when he tries greeting you in Spanish.

Missing you has proven torturous, and his damn heart -stupid, hopeless heart- races at the mere thought of seeing you again, so much so that he’s fidgeting on the entirely-too-long elevator ride up to your floor.

When the door to the hotel room opens, Hvitserk’s mouth goes dry.

You are there, standing on the other side, finally within reach, dressed like half-goddess half-hell on that lacey lingerie set the picture did no justice to.

Smiling widely, you tease, “Made it just in time. I knew you could be good.”

He wastes no time, crossing the distance between you with a desperation that surprises him as much as you, claiming your mouth before he can think twice about it, moaning at the taste of you, at the feel of you solid under his hands.

You walk backwards into the hotel room, and he follows, of course he does, he would follow you anywhere as long as you keep looking at him like that, as long as you keep kissing him like that.

You pin him against the closed door at his back, your soft body pressed against his and your eyes -dark, hungry, yours- focused on him with a want he is still taken aback by.

It robs Hvitserk of breath, to have you look at him like that, like there’s nothing you want more than him; to have you demand from him what you want, even wordlessly.

You slip one of your legs between his as you lean even closer, your breaths trailing over the skin of his neck, and Hvitserk isn’t entirely sure when he became so enthralled that even as you torture him by being so close but not close enough and everywhere but nowhere at the same time, he remains still, pliant against you.

You seal your smile in a kiss against the underside of his jaw, making him shiver at even that simple of a gesture. You were gone for so long, he had missed you so much, everything about you, from the heady scent of your perfume to the thrilling feeling of your hands on him; and to have you so close now is overwhelming him.

As if you could read his thoughts, you press even closer, teeth closing over his earlobe before you drawl out,

“I missed you, mi amor,” His eyes fall closed at your words, he can’t tell if at the term of endearment that makes him so willing to surrender with nothing but two words, or at the admission that you felt his absence as much as he felt yours. Your leg purposely presses against his crotch, and if he was half hard at the mere thought of seeing you, now with you clouding his every sense he feels so desperate it almost hurts. You breathe a laugh when you feel his erection pressing against you, “And you missed me too, didn’t you?”

“You know I did.” He bites out, jumping a bit when your hands on his sides tighten just enough that he feels the faint press of your nails against him over the damn shirt he should have taken off long ago.

He cannot help it, he grinds against the touch with a shaky breath, chasing the delightful pressure that is somehow too much and not enough, one of his hands grasping helplessly at your shoulder while the other grabs at your ass, urging you closer.

Immediately, your hands on his hips tightening, you force him to stop, keeping him immobile against the door.

“Ah, I did not say you could touch, did I?

Gods, he loves it when your voice gets like that, with that mix of coldness and heat that drives him mad.

If you are expecting an apology, you know by now you have to work harder for it.

Hvitserk has long since accepted how easily his body will surrender to you, how effortlessly you make him submit to you without but a word, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like defying you once in a while, even if it is in small things such as this.

At his silence you pull back, a quirk on your lip as you look him over. Even as you take a step back, Hvitserk remains against that door, breaths quickening at the look in your eyes.

You motion with your head to the bed, and order, “Undress for me.”

He obeys without hesitation, quickly and maybe a tad eagerly, but he doesn’t care about hiding it.

Hvitserk feels your eyes on him as he strips down, and it makes him feel exposed, vulnerable, way past the nakedness of his body.

Before the nakedness, the way he stands there -exposed, offering all that he is and hoping you will take him-, can get to his head; before the thoughts of inadequacy and sudden and pointless insecurity can take root in his mind, you are there, sweet voice and gentle touch and everything he could ever want, smiling up at him with a softness he isn’t sure he deserves.

Hvitserk doesn’t know how you do it, how you manage to pick up everything about him, how you manage to calm down fears he didn’t know he had and also awaken wants he didn’t know he could have.

But you do. And now, as you take your fill of him, hands trailing over the muscles of his shoulders and working down his chest; he can surrender and think of nothing but you, and what it feels like you be yours.

If these scattered hours are all he can get, then he is still the luckiest man in the world, he knows it.

He knows it, but it still makes his chest pull tight when you tilt your head up and giggle against his lips, as if you are truly happy to be with him for more than the play you get into, as if you are as drunk off him as he is off you; because he knows he is fooling himself in thinking you want anything more than this.

Instead of giving morose thoughts any more free reign in his head, Hvitserk answers your silent command and leans forward, letting his eyes flutter shut as he stops, just shy of kissing you.

He feels your smile against his lips when you cross the remaining distance, and his heart skips a beat in his chest at the intensity behind your kiss. One hand tangled on the hair at the back of his neck, you guide his movements as you deepen the kiss, tongue mercilessly slipping into his mouth and stealing him of breath.

There is no feeling like this one, and he knows he truly is addicted. Addicted to how natural, how right, it is to be in your arms, surrendering to you. Addicted to how you look at him like there is nothing you want more. Addicted to everything about you, really.

When you pull back, all-too-soon for his liking, Hvitserk chases after your lips, leaning down to try and capture your mouth again.

You put a hand on his mouth to stop him, and, distracted it seems, you trail your fingertips down, parting his lips. He has never felt as wanted as he does when your gaze drops to his mouth.

A breath, two, and he holds his own as he awaits for whatever it is you will do, whatever it is you will demand. Hvitserk knows that regardless, he will grant you anything.

“I’ve missed this,” You whisper, quietly as you trace his lower lip with your finger. “I’ve missed your mouth on me.”

The effect of your words is immediate, filling him with a restless sort of energy while at the same time soothing at some part of him he refuses to give voice to. Yes, you want him, you want the pleasure he can give you, no one else.

No one else can make you feel like he can, no one. And you want no one else.

Swallowing thickly, he tries, “Can I?”

“Can you what, amor?” You press, smug smile curving at your lips. “What is it you want?”

“I want to eat you out, I want to make you come,” He blurts out, at the quirk of your eyebrow amending hoarsely, “Please.”

You say nothing, but the smile on your lips is devilish, is the reason behind the way his heart thrashes madly in his chest.

Your eyes drop to the ground before you, and then slowly lift to meet his again, the command clear even before you speak, head titled to the side.

“Sabes que te ves tan bonito de rodillas.”

Keeping his eyes on you, tethered to your darkened gaze and unable to look away, Hvitserk drops to his knees before you.

He could swear your expression softens, a strange tenderness overcoming you, and you reach with a soft hand to cup the side of his face, your thumb running back and forth under his eye.

After debating on what you might think of it, he decides to lean into this secret fantasy of his, a fantasy he sometimes can lose himself in, where you want him like wants you, where you care for him the way he does for you, where the warmth in your eyes is love; and leans into your touch, turning his face towards your hand and basking in the soft affection.

Your smile widens, bottom lip trapped under your teeth as you give the barest of nods, granting him permission.

Swallowing thickly, Hvitserk reaches for you, settling his hands at the back of your thighs, slowly travelling up, trailing over the impossibly soft skin with reverence.

Unable to stop himself, when he reaches your ass he grips a little tighter, squeezing the soft flesh under his hands, and, in a daring breath, he pulls you closer, making you stumble a step forward.

Your hand on his hair forcing his head back is immediate. Hvitserk smiles up at you, not bothering to hide that the reason he misbehaved is because he wanted to have you remind him of his place.

“Behave.” You warn, but still release your hold on his hair and let him have his fill.

He smiles, and presses that smile over the side of your hip, right above the elastic of the offending garment that he both loves and hates right now, hooking one finger on the elastic and slowly, torturing both you and himself, tugging it down.

He reverently kisses each new expanse of skin he discovers, before switching to the other side, and doing the same.

Lifting his eyes to you, Hvitserk slides the lace panties down the soft skin of your legs, trailing his hands down the back of your calves as you lift each leg to take them off.

But the second leg he doesn’t let go of, looking at you with the plea clearly written in his eyes. Your head tilts to the side as you smile down at him, and with a caress of your nails down the shaved side of his head that makes him shiver, you take a couple of steps backwards.

Back resting against the wall, you look at him in a way that makes him feel like he is the prey, even as he moves across the floor to cross the distance between you.

Hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, Hvitserk leans up to press a trail of kisses down your stomach, starting right under your bellybutton.

Gods, you weren’t bluffing when you sent that picture, you really were touching yourself just before he came here. He can see in the slickness of your core, can taste it when he dares lick a long strip up your center.

Just the thought of that, imagining you working your fingers over the tight little nub, or curling your own fingers inside you just the way he does, wishing he was there, getting off to the thought, the memory, of him; makes him lose his breath.

He licks his lips, but before he can get to you, your hand on his hair tightens, drawing a hiss from him. You keep him still until he meets your gaze.

“Eyes on me, alright?” You order, waiting for him to nod before you let him taste you again.

He had missed the taste of you, had missed making you squirm and shatter with only his tongue. And now he eats you out a man starved, hungry for every little moan he can make you let out, desperate for every breathy call of his name you can grant him.

When he first gets his fingers inside you, your hand on his hair tightens to the point that the familiar blend of pain and pleasure shoots down his spine, making him groan against you.

You tug on his hair again, a reminder of your rules that makes him realize his eye shad fallen closed; and he silently obeys, holding your dark gaze.

One more time he forgets himself and lets his eyes fall closed, and this time the tug on his hair is sharper, more pain than pleasure. The third time he forgets because when he pulls back momentarily, the sight before him stalls him, and his eyes linger on the way his fingers disappear inside of you, and a pit of thrilling fear runs down his spine when you don’t remind him of the rules that time. You never forget to enforce them, he knows that.

Hvitserk feels you climbing higher and higher, he knows your tells by now, and continues a steady pace as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, finding that almost as desperate as you are to come he is to see you come for him.

Your voice, haggard and hoarse as you call his name, will always be his favorite sound in the world. When you pull him back, making him stop, keeping him tethered, your hand on his hair keeping him still, he has to stop himself from reaching down to grasp at his acing cock, if only to relieve some of the pressure that’s building inside him.

You run your thumb over his bottom lip, a hint of possessiveness in the gesture that isn’t lost to him, and motion with your head for Hvitserk to get on the bed.

The sheets are cool against his back, making him realize how much he feels like he is burning under your smoldering gaze.

Your hands grasp at his wrists, and move his arms up over his head, making him hold on to the headboard. When he does, his reward is a deep kiss that makes him whine breathlessly when you pull away.

Wordlessly, you reach down and grasp his hard cock in your hand, running your thumb over the tip and collecting any precum to make the movements of your hand easier.

Hvitserk holds his breath as you start the slow work of your hand on him, languid strokes that send little shocks of electricity down his spine with each movement of your wrist, with each caress of your free hand on his leg that nears close enough to his balls.

His own hand did no justice to you, and if your hand is all he gets, he will die a happy man.

Unable to stop himself from thrusting up into your touch when you finally reach with your free hand to grasp at his balls, the soft touch enough to make him call out your name.

He feels you seal your silent praises against his neck in soft kisses, and slowly but surely you bring him higher and higher, taking him all the way to the edge of the abyss, but not letting him fall just yet.

“I’m, ah, I’m close,” He warns you, eyes fluttering open to meet your gaze. He searches desperately for an answer he knows he won’t find there, and pleads, “Let me come, baby, please. I’ve…I’ve been good, I-…”

“Hm, have you?” You ask, and your hand doesn’t slow down, still bringing him closer and closer to the edge with each stroke, with each movement of your wrist.

Hvitserk nods rapidly, a moan of your name that sounds like a prayer leaving his lips as he desperately awaits your permission.

You don’t stop, and you don’t give him permission.

He can’t come. He knows he can’t.

He wants to, though. He wants to, so bad.

His hands on the headboard tighten, and at this point his breaths are gasping and ragged, he’s on the edge, he needs only a push, he needs your permission, but you don’t stop.

“Please!” It’s a frustrated, desperate yell on his lips, a plea for mercy.

You continue, a twist of your wrist that makes pleasure shoot down his spine, just the right amount of pressure on your soft hold to fill his head with noise.

He is going to come, he feels it building, tightening and…

“You broke the rules, mi amor.” You whisper by his ear, making his blood run cold.

Your hand leaves him right before he can go over the edge, leaving Hvitserk helplessly rutting against nothing, chasing any kind of friction with each desperate and fruitless buck of his hips.

“No, no, I-…”

“I told you not to look away,” You continue, ignoring his pleas. “And you did.”

You start trailing kisses down his neck, mimicking with your delicate fingers on one side what you do with your lips on the other.

Seeming to disregard the frantic and haggard pattern of his breathing, you continue down Hvitserk’s chest, lingering for a few breaths too long on the lines of the tattoos on his left side.

He closes his eyes, unable to handle the sight of you making your way down his body with that smug and irresistible little smile, with that hunger in your eyes. He feels the ghost of your touch on his legs, spreading them apart before your weight dips the bed in between them.

Hvitserk squeezes his eyes shut more tightly, as if he can will away the images of you with your mouth inches away from his hard cock that his mind conjures up.

Your hands trail up his sides, an allure of softness he finds himself falling for, before the sharp sting of your nails dragging down his sides startles him into attention.

“Open your eyes.” You order, and how could he not obey?

Biting back a choked little whine at the sight of you, lips kiss-bitten and gaze dark, so close to where he wants you makes his cock twitch helplessly where it rests, painfully hard against his stomach.

He says your name, whispers it, moans it, he isn’t sure. Your smile widens, and you venture down his thigh to bite down softly on the inside of it, sending a familiar heat down his spine.

When you lift one eyebrow at his silence, as if he is forgetting something, Hvitserk amends, voice hoarse,

“Please, baby.”

With your hand trailing torturously from the inside of his thigh to the base of your cock, you delight yourself in the way you make him almost tremble in anticipation of your touch, he knows you do.

Grasping him firmly in your small hand, you trace the underside of his cock with your tongue, offering a few kitten licks before you finally have mercy on him and wrap your lips around him.

The feeling of your mouth around him leaves him boneless and pliant against the mattress, a dizzying sort of relief clouding his thoughts; while at the same time it leaves every nerve in his body raw, making every bob of your head send  currents of pleasure down his spine until all he can do is surrender, head tilted back and lips parted, as his body shivers and quivers at each of the expert movements of your mouth on him, at each lap of your tongue, and each stroke of the length your mouth does not reach.

Surely, and more quickly than before, pleasure builds inside him; bringing him closer and closer to the edge he can’t fall off from until you let him.

Hvitserk feels all of him tightening, twisting into a tight spiral, the world around him disappearing because all he can think of and feel and understand is your mouth around him, so wet and soft and warm.

He shudders, resisting the urge to curl around himself, and the sharp cry that leaves his lips as you hum around him is the only warning he can give you, the only plea that can leave his lips that you please, let him come.

The sudden loss of your touch leaves for too long tethered to that spiral, tense and desperate and so, so close¸ and before he can mourn the loss of yet another orgasm, he feels your mouth on him again.

Only this time you are nowhere near his cock, instead biting down somewhere under his left pectoral, clamping your teeth down on him so hard he’s sure you’ve drawn blood, leaving him chasing madly after the pain and the tendrils of pleasure it leaves dancing over his skin.

Hvitserk’s back arches off the bed as a haggard moan leaves his lips. His head feels funny and filled with noise, and he isn’t even sure if that noise isn’t him whimpering and moaning helplessly.

His head falls back, face turned towards the pillow as he takes gasping breaths, trying to hold on to a control he has long since surrendered to you. Hands grasping tightly at the sheets, as if somehow he can keep tethered by grabbing onto them, as if he can keep himself from being drowned in the sensations you draw out of him.

“P-Please, please, I c-…”

You laugh, bubbly little laugh that taunts him, and it sounds so jarringly innocent and lighthearted, that when he opens his eyes and finds the faintest evidence of blood staining your lips he fears he might come untouched.

“What?” You drawl out, hand trailing up and down his chest, “Don’t tell me you can’t take it, amor. We both know you can.

He closes his eyes tightly -that smile is going to kill him one day, he is sure of it- and shakes his head.

You lean closer, and he loves and hates the feel of the lace of your bra as it traces over the skin of his chest when you do.

“You looked away,” You remind him, a ruthless edge to your tone that makes a shiver run down his spine. “Three times. I’m only making sure you don’t forget the rules next time.”

“I-I won’t.” He attempts, even though he knows you won’t let him off easy.

“I know,” You offer, voice almost a sing song. Pressing close to nuzzle at his neck, pressing a kiss to a spot he can tell you are itching to leave your mark on, you promise, “One more. I know you want to be good for me, you can do one more.”

Eyes searching yours, the pull of wanting to be good for you, wanting to earn the praise that makes his chest warm and head fuzzy, is too strong, and Hvitserk nods his head, conceding.

You smile, and grant him one sweet kiss that he finds helps him calm down, slow his breathing even if it robs him of it.

Feeling you grasp his cock once again, Hvitserk shivers. It almost feels overwhelming, like he’s entirely too sensitive to even stand another second of this maddening game; but at the same time the fine line between pleasure and pain that your touch dances on is too enthralling for him to want anything but losing himself in it.

You start working him slowly, almost torturously slow strokes of your hand over his cock, that remains hot and heavy in your grasp.

You trail a few kisses down the column of his throat, but Hvitserk knows better than to expect the softness to continue so for much longer.

Even though he is expecting it, the sharp pain of the bite over that spot on his neck makes him gasp loudly, black spots dancing in his vision as he writhes underneath you on the bed.

Over and over, you continue biting him, marking him; making the line between pleasure and pain all the more blurred as your hand speeds up and tightens slightly on his shaft. But you do not let him get used to anything, keeping Hvitserk drifting as you alternate between the sharp bites and the soothing presses of your lips.

He has long since stopped attempting to stifle the mewls and moans that leave him, and though he does try to stop the helpless and desperate rutting of his hips into your touch, he quickly realizes it is a lost battle as well.

More slowly than before, pleasure builds inside him, and somehow knowing you won’t let him cross over that edge makes him all the more desperate for it.

It feels like it has been hours, like it has been a fucking lifetime of being so close and yet so far, taken to the edge only to be brought safely back even if all he wants to do is fall.

And when you stop for a third time, he knows the sound that leaves his lips is more of a sob than anything else. He even feels the prick of tears in his eyes, and if they have already fallen down his face, he has no idea when.

He feels your hands tun up from his stomach to his chest, the pressure just soft enough to be soothing and just hard enough to be grounding. Hvitserk doesn’t know how you do it, how you drive him wild and calm him down with barely a touch, and he gathers it should scare him that you have this much control over him, but there’s nothing he loves more than that.

“What color, mi amor?” You ask, voice by his ear.

Green, fucking green. Please don’t stop.

He nods his head eagerly, gasping breaths not bringing enough air for him to actually be able to voice anything.

But you aren’t content, and you insist, “Words, Hvitserk.”

He understands why you ask, he understands because the now and the memory of that night somehow blur together to him too, though for different reasons.

This weightlessness, this breathless feeling at surrendering to you, this all-encompassing warmth at having been made yours, it overwhelms him, it fills his sense with nothing but you, and it is a lot like that night.

Your walls are tight and warm around him, and though all you do is rotate your hips just slightly but he feels pleasure shoot through his whole body, leaving him trembling.

The shiver makes you move as well, and more drops of wax make their way to his chest, sealing the heat over his raw nerves. He will lose his mind like this, he is sure of it.

He thinks he hears your voice, but it sounds like he is trying to listen from underwater. He doesn’t mind, he doesn’t care, all he can think of his how good everything feels as he surrenders his body to you, how good he feels being yours.

He forces himself to return to the present, but he could swear the sting of the bite marks that litter his body feel a lot like the lingering heat of the drying wax on his skin.

“G-Green. Fuck, so green, baby.”

You hum, pleased, and seal a proud smile against his lips.

“Good boy.”

His heart races at the praise, and he doesn’t bother telling himself he is asking too much when he tilts his head up, asking for more.

With a breathed laugh, you lean down, chest pressed against his, and kiss him fully, gently even if hungrily. Hvitserk puts his hands on your sides, and when one of them slides to grasp lightly at the curve of your ass, you don’t say anything.

It is a wordless form of praise, to be allowed to venture past what’s allowed like this, and he smiles stupidly against your lips.

Pulling back and looking into his eyes, your legs on either side of his hips, you lower yourself over him, sliding torturously over his cock but not allowing him to enter you yet.

Hvitserk feels like breaking, he feels like he’s shaking and he wonders absently if you can feel it. His head tilted back, all he can do is give up a haggard groan to the ceiling above.

He feels your hand grasping him and he swears he could cry from the relief, certain now you will have mercy and allow him inside you.

Forcing his eyes open to look at you, he finds you already focused on him -and what a heady feeling it is, to be wanted by you, to be wanted like this, shattered, pliant, submitting-, biting your lip.

Guiding the tip of his cock against you, making it rub just slightly against your clit, you shudder, and lean forward so that your face is almost hidden against Hvitserk’s shoulder.

He feels you bite down without much warning on already-sensitive skin by his shoulder, and hisses at the sharp sting.

“Fuck, you’re, ah, you’re-…”

He couldn’t for the life for him know what he was trying to say, and the cry that leaves his lips drowns out any words when you finally take him inside you. A shiver makes you tremble and wrecks you both, and all Hvitserk can do is let his head fall back into the pillows, lips parted and eyes squeezed shut as you demand your pleasure from him and give back the same.

In the rhythmic movement of your bodies, the quiet and not so quiet cries that leave your lips and wash over him like little electrical currents to run over his skin, the drag of your nails or mark of your teeth on his chest and neck as you climb higher and higher, Hvitserk loses track of time, loses his breath, loses what was left of his mind.

He isn’t sure if it is with words that he warns you when he is getting close this time, but you understand regardless. Leaning down so you are face to face, you claim his lips in a biting kiss he can only half-heartedly return, too-lost in gasping breaths and trembling limbs.

Pulling back with a sharp bite over his bottom lip that you soothe away with a flick of your tongue, you order, “Come for me.”

His orgasm overwhelms him, dragging him under a rip current in which he can’t make out up from down; leaving him gasping helplessly, lips parted and throat strained at the desperate sounds of painful relief and weakening ecstasy that rumble past his chest.

There’s nothing but you, and the maddening scent of your perfume, and the feel of your hands on him, the sound of your voice as you call out his name in adoration and ecstasy, the tight warmth of your walls around him. You, you, you.

Pleasure steals the strength from his body, the air from his lungs, and even after he’s finished, he can do nothing but lay there, trembling and almost aching, feeling every shiver of his body in the aftershocks rattles him to his core.

He’s barely aware of you sliding off him -he thinks he manages one last weak and haggard moan as his softening cock slips out of you-, of your soft touches as you clean him up -he hopes, he really does, that you understand the mindless hum he lets out as his gratitude, because it is-.

All Hvitserk can think of is the dizzying relief, the bone-deep satisfaction of having been good for you; and he leans into that weightlessness, into that untethered existence, trusting blindly that you are there with him, that if nothing else your voice and your touch can keep him bound to this world, that you can take care of him and keep him safe.

He comes back to himself bit by bit, regaining a bit more of his mind thanks to each of the soft kisses you press over the marks you left behind, murmured praises that fill him with warmth in between each kiss.

“You were so good for me,” You’re telling him, and if he’s smiling drowsily, like the lovesick idiot that he is, well, no one can blame him. “So good. I’ve missed this, missed you so much.”

“Mhm, missed you too.” He drawls out, eyes fluttering shut when you stretch out by his side, your body soft and warm against his.

Even lifting his arm to drape it over you when you nuzzle close to him proves to be difficult, but he manages, and he soaks up all your warmth and your comfort as he dozes off in your arms.

After making him accept the water bottle and checking the bite mark on his neck -he knew you’d draw blood one of these days, was hoping for it really-, you sit up on the bed.

“Shower?” He makes a face at the suggestion, and you laugh, your nose furrowed adorably when you do. “Sorry, no bathtub in this room.”

“If you’d come to my place instead of here, we wouldn’t have that problem, now would we?”

Not that he even suggested you go there tonight -he thinks he might have, if he had any thoughts to spare when he read your message, and if his brother and his girl weren’t spending the night in-, but he still feels he needs to make that point. Sometimes he likes defying you for the sake of it, he’s found out.

“I can hear you pouting, Hvitserk,” You grumble good-naturedly, “Were you this whiny when I left?”

“Well, you left me for two weeks, can you complain?”

“I’m your mistress, not your trainer.”

“Aren’t you?” He taunts, and he knows immediately in the glint of your eye that you got him.

“I thought pet play wasn’t your thing,” You muse, annoyingly smug when you tilt your head to the side. “If it is, there’s some lovely collars that wo-…”

“Alright, alright, shower it is.” He interrupts, quick strides taking him to you.

The laugh you let out, carefree and playful, fills him with warmth, lets him pretend this is his life. This teasing, this easy intimacy, this familiarity.

His arms wrapped around you from behind, both of you waddling clumsily to the bathroom as he tries fruitlessly to make you stop laughing by pressing kiss after kiss on the side of your neck and face, Hvitserk can pretend this is his life.

And by Freyja and all the Gods, it feels like it is for a moment, and…he wants it to be, more than anything.

He’s fucked, he knows it.

But, for now, he forgets. He follows you into the entirely-too-small shower, and he laughs at the face you make when he puts his body between yours and the spray, and he holds you close and forgets.

Few times he has actually spent the night with you, and now, as he holds you to him, your back to his chest as you both drift off to sleep, he tells himself he should know better than to overthink this, he tells himself it means nothing and you just offered because it is nearly dawn already; but he still finds himself hoping this means something.

Maybe you missed him too, in the time you were apart, missed him enough to realize this no-strings-attached thing is not all you want anymore. Maybe you want him near too, maybe you have been falling steadily -madly, helplessly- all this time too.

It was that first time he spent the night with you that he realized for the first time the depths of his feelings for you.

Your focus is drawn to his chest and before he can figure out what you are doing you reach and peel a lingering drop of wax, the most adorable of furrows between your brows.

Still, he jumps a bit, and you lift big eyes to him, offering a sheepish, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He mumbles. He isn’t sure what to do, how to act. A part of him feels like he should apologize, like he should be ashamed.

It was nothing short of amazing, the best night of his fucking life really, and Hvitserk feels like he’s somehow ruined it, like he was too weak, too much, too something.

You reach for the water bottle on the nightstand, taking a sip or two, but your gaze remains on him. Your eyes on him make him feel exposed, and he grits his teeth against the impulse to look away.

“Are you doing alright, Hvitserk?” You ask, that unending softness in your tone. He hates it now, because he is no longer mi amor, he is Hvitserk. Hvitserk, that was too much, Hvitserk, that ruined things.

He nods, maybe a little too hurriedly, “Mhm. Yeah.”

But your eyes on him, your attention on him, it makes him jittery. Before he realizes it, before he can try to stop it, his body is trembling, and his breaths quicken.

Why can’t he control it? He is fine, everything is fine.

It was the best sex of his life, why does he feel like he will break into pieces? Why can’t he fucking breathe?

“Hey, it’s alright,” You soothe, scooting closer, “Being jittery after an intense scene is normal.”

“Huh.” He nods his head, he doesn’t really know what to do with that information.

You put both your hands on his chest, soft and cool against the sensitive skin, and meet his eyes, unwavering. Slowly, carefully, you guide him into breathing in par with you; and he can slowly come down from it.

He has a feeling you know he is craving the touch, the contact of your body against his, a bit more than usual, but he doesn’t mind that you do, because as long as he can hold you to him and find something to ground himself on the short and uneven rhythms you tap against his chest with your fingers, he doesn’t much mind anything.

After a while, he isn’t sure how long, you lift your head and, chin resting on his chest, offer, “Hungry?”

He was feeling like shit, probably looking like it too, but even if he felt like he had been stitched back together after breaking apart at the seams, that night with you, eating cheap takeout and talking until the sun rose was no doubt one of his favorite nights. Even without counting that he had had the best sex of his life to date that night, it still would have been right there at the top.

When he wakes up in the morning the first thing he notices is how his every sense is clouded by you, in the best way possible. The faint scent of your perfume and something that is just you lingering in the air, filling his nose when he buries his face against your hair, burrowing closer to you; the warmth you radiate but also seem to seek in him, based on how you settle in his arms with a sigh when he moves closer; the even and soothing sound of your breaths as you continue to sleep.

In the time it takes you to wake up -and he can’t for the life of him tell how long that is, too lost in his own thoughts-, Hvitserk decides he will come clean today. He decides he will tell you how he feels, and he makes a draft of a plan on how to convince you to actually give the two of you a shot.

You are everything he could want in a woman, from the way your nose furrows adorably when you laugh at his stupid jokes to the way you can give him a look that makes him want to beg you to fuck him, he is certain there’s no one out there like you, no one that can make him feel like you do.

Murmuring your good morning, you offer quiet and short words about taking a shower, and Hvitserk lets you go, drumming his fingers over his bare stomach as he waits for you to come out.

He may or may not give himself a mental pep talk to give himself enough confidence to go through with this, and the voice in his head during said pep talk may or may not sound a lot like Ivar’s.

When you do, he blurts out, maybe less articulately than he intended,

“I want more than this.”

You turn to him, eyes wide, “What?”

“You heard me,” He states, confidently walking towards you. He doesn’t feel confident in the slightest, more like the opposite, but he might as well fake it till he makes it. “And I think you want the same.”

“Hvitserk…”

“I care about you, as more than a friend,” He admits before he can think of keeping the words to himself. At your silence he feels a pit of dread grow on his stomach. He really fucked it up this time, didn’t he? “I have for the past…Gods, I don’t even know.”

There it is, that little furrow between your brows.

“You never said anything.”

He shrugs, “Couldn’t risk losing you.”

“What changed?”

You left town for two weeks and I felt I was losing my mind pretending I didn’t miss you like crazy.

He could say that, it would be more than true. He is done pretending he didn’t feel your absence in these past weeks and pretending he didn’t wish more than anything that he had the right to just call you and talk to you until he fell asleep to the sound of your voice; he is done pretending he didn’t feel chained and restrained -and not in a fun way- by this distance you put between the two of you.

I spent a night with you in my arms and I couldn’t imagine waking up alone again.

He could say that, and it would also be true. The past twelve hours have been a fucking dream, and for all the times he allowed himself to get a little lost in the fantasy where there is love in your eyes and permanence in your embrace, he has also realized there is not that much of a difference between what you have now and what you could have.

But that is about what he feels, and he remembers at some point Ubbe told him sentences starting with ‘I’ are not good for conversations about feelings, or something like that, he wasn’t really listening; so he tries something else, that is also true.

“I-…we could be so great together, yeah?” He tries, eyes jumping between yours as he tries reading anything in your expression, in your gaze. “I can make you happy, I can-…let me prove it to you.”

“Prove…?” You shake your head, stepping forward. That’s towards him instead of towards the door to bolt out of here, and that’s a good sign, right? “You don’t have anything to prove, Hvitserk.”

He swallows thickly at the silence that follows your words, because there’s only one thing that might make or break this neat little plan of his, and it hinges on your answer.

“Do you…do you think you could…see me like that? Like something more than this?”

“I could, I-I do, but…” You do. He can pretend you didn’t say that fucking word after admitting to seeing him as more than a friend, in fact, he will pretend, happily. You press your lips together, big eyes lifting to meet his. “What if it doesn’t…work out?”

“What if it does?” He asks, taking a tentative step closer, feeling his lips pull into a smile. Finding courage in that little curve of your lips that you grant him, he confesses, “I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t think there’s much of a chance of going back now, you know.”

You chuckle, and he will ignore the way it is a little watery because he isn’t much better.

“I think…I think I’m falling in love with you too.” You offer, tentatively. Hvitserk cannot keep the stupidly wide smile from curving at his lips, lovesick and almost delirious as he asks, just to make sure,

“Yeah?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

He surges forward, and he isn’t surprised you have the same idea, the both of you meeting halfway to kiss. He kisses you hungrily, a tad of relief and a bit of desperation, mouth moving eagerly over yours.

His hands wander the exposed skin of your back, and he presses harder against you, smiling at the kittenish little moan you stifle against his lips. By all the Gods, he adores you, and he has you, all of you.

He is half certain there is some kind of cosmic misfire that has somehow made it so that he gets to have this, but he will not hesitate to hold on to it, hold on to you.

I trust you, yeah? He had told you all those months ago when you both jumped into this.

And that never changed. He has trusted you with his body and everything else for all this time; it is effortless to trust you with his heart now.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading!! Would love to know what you think!

In case it wasn’t clear enough, the two flashbacks (the short one where he is asked about the color, and the longer one where he is thinking about when he realized he was falling) are of a scene in the past (involving wax play and, though it wasn’t explicit in this one, impact play) that ended up being more intense than usual/expected, and Hvitty went through a pretty rough subdrop afterwards. Idk why I needed you to know about that scene, but apparently I did. I might (might) write another smutty oneshot for Hvitserk and this Reader character that goes into how that went down, idk.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​ @peachyboneless​ @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough​ @fae-sedai​ @zuxiezendler​ @crazybunnyladysworld​ @stupiddarkkside​ @northumbria​ @aprilivar​  

Btw, I have more Hvitserk works planned (because someone enables me, ahem, @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​), so I’m gonna request that if you are in this taglist and want to REMAIN in it for the Hvitserk works, you let me know, otherwise I’ll keep you on the just Ivar one. Of course, if you wanna be added to the Hvitty taglist, ask away!

[sserpente]

A/N: Requests from @watermelon1568, @lokisgirl5, @cocoamoonmalfoy and anon. This is so fluffy and maybe a little silly, but in a good way! Enjoy everyone and have a good Christmas Eve! ♥

Words: 2635 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of blood, implied smut

Additional NSFW warning: This Imagine contains implied period sex, just in case this is something you are uncomfortable with.

Loki might be a tiny tad OOC in this one because the requests were just so fluffy but I did my best! Enjoy!

-

Loki sighed. There you were again, running around with a list in hand looking much like the one Santa Clause had been carrying in that Christmas film Thor had forced him to watch. For the past few days, weeks almost, actually, you had been collecting everyone’s Christmas wishes like a squirrel collecting nuts for the winter. Even he knew everyone’s Christmas wishes by now. You had truly asked everybody, even the cleaning women who came to tidy up the entire Avengers facility once a week.

Loki could not quite put his finger on what it was that fascinated him so much about you—all he did know was that he too wanted to get you a Christmas present, if only just to see the surprised look on your face. He almost snorted. It was disappointment he felt, disappointment and envy because he longed to be the one to put a smile on your face on Christmas Day—and he didn’t even celebrate Christmas, not really.

Furthermore, he had not failed to notice how you avoided his presence like you were playing cat and mouse. You had, much to his surprise, asked him for his Christmas wish too the other day, all timid and unable to look him in the eye and Loki had been so taken aback he had not known an answer. The God of Mischief was many things but he was not blind and not stupid—he was perceptive. Villain or not, you were into him—and he was going to get your confession.

Smirking to himself, and determined to put an end to playing tag, he followed you into the empty hallway on your way back to your room, pushed past you and then unceremoniously blocked your way.

“O-Oh… hey, Loki.” You chirped.

“Are you in a hurry?”

“I, uh, actually, um… n-no?”

“Well, you did ask me what I wanted for Christmas, did you not?”

“Oh!” Your face lit up. “Oh, yes! Yes, what would you like?”

Loki thought about it for a moment. He needed an answer fast to not look like a moron now.

His lips parted. “I do miss writing with a quill and ink. Could you acquire a set for me? Surely, they are still being used on Midgard.”

Geez! How had you not thought about that? Loki truly was a scholar with all those books in his room, and that was a marvellous idea. “Y-yes, of course!” You responded, nodding eagerly in the process. But when you moved forward, Loki, instead of letting you pass now, put his hand against the wall so you were trapped.

“Hmm… Is there a particular reason you always get so nervous in my presence?” He asked. Your eyes widened. Fuck.

“Y-you… you tried to… you almost took over t-the p-planet, you k-know.” You lied quickly.

“Ah, yes. Of course… that must be it.” He responded with a knowing smirk. Oh, fuck. Did he have to be so god damn gorgeous?

“You never said what it was you want for Christmas, my dear.” He said then, blue eyes locking with yours. Your heart skipped a beat—no, actually, you were wondering whether it was still beating at all. You did have a Christmas wish, of course and you wanted to do backflips all across the hallway that Loki of all people took an interest in what you’d like—or maybe he just wanted to make conversation. Keep calm.

“Oh… it’s silly. Not really possible.” You replied sheepishly, gasping when he hooked a finger under your chin to gently force you to look up at him. He was definitely going to be the death of you.

“Tell me.” He urged you on.

“The only thing I… I’ve always wanted to have a dog. A loyal non-human companion, someone to cuddle with when it’s cold and who will never judge me but love me just the way I am… and they are just so cute! But that’s not possible,” You repeated quickly. “Imagine an innocent little puppy when everything’s on fire and another alien race attacks the planet!”

Loki hummed. Dogs were not common on Asgard. He himself had had a pet snake growing but released it into the wild after Thor and his friends had repeatedly stolen it to play silly and dangerous games. He could see why you kept that wish to yourself. Living among the Avengers, a dog might get in the way during missions—he did not doubt it would be helpful and capable of tearing off their enemies’ faces but your worry for it would distract you from a fight.

Still… perhaps there was a way. A smirk grew on his lips and your flustered reaction to it pleased him, making it grow wider.

-

It was early Christmas morning when Loki returned. It had taken him all of his wit and cunningness to leave the Avengers facilities unattended and without anyone asking suspicious questions but he had succeeded. The wooden box he was carrying—with many holes in them so the little creature could breathe—Loki sneaked across the hallway and past your room to hide his present for you in his own, already imagining your priceless reaction… was he hoping for a hug? Oh, he was. When was the last time anyone had hugged him? Perhaps you would, upon receiving the fluffy little creature in the box.

The dog winced. “Shh! Quiet, you silly little creature, you are going to wake up your mother!”

It was then he heard an ear-piercing scream coming from your room. He nearly dropped the box, turning on his heel to storm into your room like a tornado annihilating everything in its path. Your bed was empty, the sheets ruffled. There was a small beam of light coming from your bathroom—the closer he came, the more he could make out the rustling of fabric.

“I bloody hate being a woman…” You murmured to yourself, making the God of Mischief frown. Alarmed, he stepped closer and entered the bathroom without knocking—he barely remembered to set the box aside to draw his daggers if need be.

You were sat on the toilet, your white Christmas pyjamas with candy canes and gingerbread men on them soiled with blood. Loki’s eyes widened. There was blood on the floor too… and on your fingers.

His fingers were itching to materialise his weapons, yet he could see no enemy who could have attacked you. You gasped when he barged into the room, concealing your nakedness from the waist down with some toilet paper.

“What in the nine happened to you?” The amount of blood was almost concerning for a mortal. Had someone surprised you in your sleep? Who had managed to break into the Avengers facilities in the first place?

“How did you get in here? No wait, you’re awake already? Umm… Merry Christmas?” You swallowed. Talk about embarrassing yourself in front of the God of Mischief.

“We need to get you to a healer… a doctor, that is what you call them here?” You stared at him for a moment.

The last thing he expected was for you to burst out laughing. The whole situation was so hilarious you even forgot to be nervous around him for once.

“Oh, Loki… I’m okay, I’m not dying, I promise. I got surprised by my period, is all.”

“Your… period? Your period… as in your menstruation cycle?”

“Yes. Do women on Asgard not have that?”

“They do but… not like this.” Heavens, he felt stupid. He had thought you were dying, openly shown his concern… and you had laughed.

“Loki…” It was like you had heard his thoughts. “Thank you for checking on me. I was just being frustrated but I promise I’m okay.” You had probably disturbed his sleep but the fact that Loki cared enough to come to your help, admitting that just perhaps… he actually liked you. “W-would you mind?” Loki raised his brows, his lips parting.

“Yes, of course.”

He turned around for you to get dressed again (never before had you been more grateful for the pile of more or less dirty laundry on the floor next to your toilet) and nodded, only realising now that he had indeed just proved that one way or another, he had taken a liking into you. It was then the dog winced again just outside the bathroom door.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. In fact, I shall leave you… how did you get out of that box?” Eager and curious, the puppy must have somehow knocked its wooden box over. When Loki looked behind him, he found the lid on the floor, the young dog hurtling towards you.

“Oh my god! Hey there, little guy! Where did you come from?” You giggled when the dog attempted to jump up on you. You picked it up, grinning when it licked your face. “Aren’t you adorable?”

Loki pursed his lips. Oh, great. Now he was getting the hug. He furrowed his brows. Heavens, this was an innocent little puppy. Against all reason, he already loved the little guy with all his heart himself, how could he possibly feel jealous?

“You were not supposed to see it yet. I was going to put the box under the Christmas tree.”

“R-really? You mean… he’s for me? Oh, Loki… but h-how? I mean… I love him. But how can I keep him safe here? Is that really a good idea?”

“Well… he is, in fact, not a normal dog.” Loki remarked.

Your eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

“Dogs are rare on Asgard but there are indeed a few traders who raise them. This unprepossessing creature has a life expectancy five times as high as Midgardian dogs—not to mention it is stronger, more intelligent and much like Thor and me, more resistant to pain and injury.”

“You’re a superdog then, aren’t you? Yes, you are, such a good boy. I need a name for him.” You announced. Loki raised his arms. That would be your decision. His pet snake had never had a name. “I’ll think of something.” Smiling, you stepped forward and kissed Loki on the cheek whose lips parted in surprise.

“Thank you so much. I didn’t think you would… why did you?” He said nothing in response. He couldn’t possibly tell you that he wanted a hug and that the only person he wanted it from was you. Your lips on his face had already felt like liquid fire, warming him from the inside out. Heavens, what was wrong with him? You were a mortal. He couldn’t possibly like you this much.

“You should go back to bed.” He said after a while, clearing his throat. “It is still early.” You nodded. He was right. Besides, you and your little puppy needed to get to know each other.

Needless to say, however, you couldn’t fall asleep again after you had gotten changed into new pyjamas and then cuddled with your new pet. Loki had gotten you a dog. Why? He owed you nothing, and quite on the contrary, you highly doubted Loki would even bother to get the rest of the Avengers a Christmas gift.

-

In the meantime, Loki himself returned to his room, shaking his head in the process. He was being ridiculous. The other day in the hallway, he had still managed to remain composed but the more time he spent around you, the softer he became for you.

He had been worried for you upon seeing all that blood and it had scared him. Love and affection weren’t exactly emotions he got to experience a lot and then for a human of all species…

He realised with a start just what it was that was happening to him. He was courting you, wasn’t he? He had not done anything alike in years, the last time for a beautiful Asgardian woman who had turned out to take more interest in Thor than him.

Loki was no expert on dating. He had never had the need for it… not until you. A growl escaped his lips. How dangerous for his already shattered heart would it be to give in to his desire and make you smile again? To feel your lips against his skin once more?

Another growl. He was addicted to you already. Jumping up from the bed, he left the facilities again, this time to head a few miles west. Frigga had always said that love goes through the stomach. He might as well try that strategy out.

-

About two hours later, there was a soft knock on your door. You stirred, eyes fluttering open. Your puppy—you had still not thought of a name for it—had curled up in your arms, still sleeping soundly.

“Yes?”

The door opened to reveal Loki. With a smirk, he produced something from behind his back—a box with the logo of your favourite pancake shop on it. Your jaw dropped.

“Merry Christmas.” He announced.

“Oh my goodness… Loki, you are so sweet.”

The God of Mischief raised an eyebrow. “Sweet is not exactly what I was hoping for.” He replied, albeit smiling.  You sat up carefully to not wake the puppy, accepting the pancakes all the while licking your lips hungrily. Now that was one way to start Christmas Day.

“How about considerate?” You tried again, smiling up at him sweetly. Loki smirked, hands clasped behind his back. He almost appeared a little… awkward.

You longed to ask him why he was doing all this but then again… you could think of only one answer. It couldn’t possibly be, no?

“Care to share? They are really good.”

“It appears so. The entire restaurant smelled like a sugar realm.”

“Is that a thing?”

“No.”

“Oh… pity.” He chuckled.

Twenty minutes in which you silently ate with relish went by, the puppy still sleeping peacefully in your bed, with you unable to stop petting it all the time. Once you had finished the very last bite, you simply dropped the empty takeaway-packaging on the floor.

“Thank you so much, Loki. I couldn’t have imagined better Christmas presents.”

He nodded, watching your every move as you moved in to give him another kiss on the cheek.

This time though, in just this moment, Loki turned his head to face you again, your lips landing on his instead. You gasped, even more so when he deepened the kiss, moving his mouth gently against yours, tongue slipping between your lips to taste you. Oh my god. Loki was kissing you. Loki was kissing you!

It felt like a demon from Muspelheim had set his body on fire, from the inside out. Loki was ablaze. Unable to stop himself, his arms came up to pull you closer into his body until you were straddling him, your fingers digging into his clothes. You both knew where this was going.

There was no doubt you were going to wake up the little dog when you pushed him back on the mattress, overcome with a sudden confidence and hunger that made you feel invincible. Loki did not object. The only reason you hesitated was the fact you remembered just then that you were on your period. Reluctantly, you pulled away.

“Loki… maybe we should do this… another time. My… period, remember?”

“A little bit of blood will not stop me from ravishing you, my dear.” Your heart skipped a beat.

“A-are you sure?”

Loki nodded slowly and intimately, his blue gaze never leaving yours.

Next thing you knew, the both of you lost all of your layers of clothing one by one. Scratch making a list for Christmas presents for your friends to make them happy… you couldn’t quite believe that Loki actually reciprocated your affection for him. This certainly was the most amazing Christmas yet.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[ducktales-wco-oo]

✩ How I Run My Blog! ✩

Speed: 

Slow As Hell, for the most part. True, there are times when I yeet replies out because me and/or my muse are ridiculously invested in a thread, or inspiration instantly strikes. However, my default tends to be Really Slow. Something I try to make prominent to everyone since I understand some people prefer to not wait months at a time for a response- which is something I often end up doing. For a variety of reasons: be it because muses are fickle, it tends to take hours at a time for me to craft replies, I literally have hundreds of threads... As a result of this, I don’t drop threads too often either? Usually, they're lingering in my drafts, and it isn’t uncommon for a hella old one to suddenly be thrust onto the dash.

Of course, I never expect people to reply to Old Threads if they don’t want to, and don’t mind either way! I just like offering a response so I didn’t just abruptly drop it. :3 But yeah, I am a very slow roleplayer and while I hope my writing is decent enough to be worth the wait, I’ve had experience interacting with others who obviously prefer things to be quick and constant. Which I am not. Not delving into THOSE experiences because yeah- They weren’t the best. lol But I just want to make it clear that my speed does not equate my interest in a thread or in interacting with others. I am just a hella slow person who wants to write about birbs. 

Replies: 

My replies tend to get L O N G. I am not adept at short threads, and even ones that start out as really small back-and-forth replies are pretty much guaranteed to get longer on my side within a few responses. My muses like to get introspective and I like to get descriptive- I’m talking several paragraphs before they start to talk or even get to the point where they aren’t thinking-about/reacting-to whatever your muse did in the last reply. XD I’ve noticed that my average seems to be three-to-five paragraphs, but it isn’t uncommon for me to break the double-digits at times. Of course, I never expect my partners to match length and as long as I’m given more than a couple sentences in return, it’s all good. 

Starters: 

Whenever I add a new muse, I often post a Starter Call for them. They tend to vary in length, but are often two-to-three paragraphs long because I’ve tried to make single sentence ones and it never seems to work out. Occasionally, I’ll throw out random Open Starters when inspiration or a random idea strikes. These starters are free for as many people to respond to as they want, and are ALWAYS open regardless of how long ago I posted them.  

Inbox: 

My Inbox is always open and I am constantly reblogging RP and Ask memes for it. However, again I shall bring up my Turtle-Like speed because my asks do tend to snowball. Right now I have 966 asks, so it’s no surprise that sometimes they can get lost in the pile. But I have a habit of answering random ones whenever threads aren’t working or I’m in a mood for something specific that a reply won’t give, so that’s why I continuously reblog things. I like having a healthy stash of stuff to answer when needed. So don’t be surprised if an ask you forgot you even sent is suddenly popping up onto the dash. XD 

Selectivity: 

I am semi-selective, meaning that while I am willing to RP with people I am not technically mutuals with, I won’t RP with everyone. I’m not trying to discourage people from approaching or make anyone feel poorly, there are just certain writing styles that I tend to gravitate towards and click more easily with. For example, if I notice that someone’s blog is filled with a surplus of one-liner back-and-forth, uncut replies, chances are I’m not going to follow because I don’t want my dash constantly cluttered. Maybe I’ll RP if they approach and give more than single sentences in our threads, but I’m not going to automatically promise to interact with everyone. Because I did that before and honestly, it’s not fair to me or the other person if I’m not actually enjoying replying to a thread. 

I don’t take graphics or Aesthetics into consideration when it comes to following or interacting. After all, what is important is the writing and the fun. :3 

Wishlist: 

I have a tag for random things that I thought would be fun to explore- #Got The Quacking Craze || {Wishlist}

But if I have to state some specific things, I suppose that right now I’d enjoy threads in some of my AU verses. Specifically, the Siren AU for Fenton because I LOVE that fluffy fish and it’s a shame that I don’t often get to write in it. Another AU that I like is the Robo AU for Louie, and I’ve rarely used it as well. Not to mention, his negaversion Louis is a precious boi who I definitely wouldn’t mind more interactions with. Oh! It’d also be cool to have threads that take place when my muses are kids- particularly: Fenton, Gladstone, and Mark. 

Or threads that take place during College/Teen years. Again with: Fenton, Gladstone, and this time Imma throw Panchito into the mix. Some College Caballeros, perhaps? Some Fenton-still-with-his-assnugget-bf Angst? Some glam-rock-phase Gladstone dealing with the jealousy of his peers, the still-lingering guilt of having ‘killed’ his parents, and crushing on his nerdy best friend all wrapped up in the facade of Teen Drama? JNFFJKSDFNDSF... 

Honest Notes: 

As well as being slow with Replies and Asks, I am oftentimes slow with my IMs. This is nothing personal against anyone! I just get overwhelmed at times and have the memory of a potato. Which means sometimes I’ll think I replied or just flat-out forget until days later. Plus Tunglr LOVES to screw with my messages, so more often than not I’m not even alerted of them until hours upon hours later... Long story short, I really do enjoy talking with all of you and love getting messages from my friendos. Seriously, I don’t mind if when I’m flooded with them. It just sometimes takes me a bit to gather up enough energy to reply coherently.

Random Side Notes: 

My blog is pretty messy and while I’m trying to whip up bios that are more than just notes for my own benefit hastily scrawled down whenever I was in a muse-adding frenzy, lots of info about my muses tend to either be in my own head or jotted down on the random Headcanon posts I sometimes throw into the wild. XD I also have a habit of analyzing the HELL out of things when I get excited, so long-ass posts like those sometimes pop up as well. 

Speaking of excitement, there WILL be times when I gush about the star of this blog- *motions at Fenton* and everyone must Accept That. Because he is my FLUFFY SON and I shan’t apologize for loving him with every fiber of my being. X3 Sometimes I’ll go off about other characters too, but more often than not it is HIM. OOC posts are a thing too.

Sometimes inspiration comes in bursts and muses take over the blog for a day or a few- like right now, how Fenton is dominating everything. My birbs are fickle bishes and I’ve learned to just let them fight over who is going to get the attention, then roll with whoever wins. This is why I encourage people to interact with as many muses as they want and start as many threads as they’d like. That way, no matter which muse is strong or what kind of thread I am in the mood for, there’s a chance something will Work With Me. Besides, I’m always up for new threads and ideas, regardless of how many things we are juggling already. 

That being taken into account- Please understand that I oftentimes don’t know WHO the Hell I’m going to feel the muse for or WHAT threads they will be. So no rushing or nagging for replies because all that does is make my muses drag their feet. :’3 

Tagged by: @soul-heart-and-beyond​

Tagging: Whoever wants to! :3 

[maesterkenobi]

how I run my blog

Tagged by: as usual I’ve stolen it from @mynameisanakin  Tagging: no one, i am too lazy and i follow like 14 people so. just do it if you want to.

SPEED: is not my forte. I try my best, but there are several factors that work against me in this aspect: 1) I’m a chronic procrastinator 2) I’m scatterbrained 3) I have more than one blog 4) I almost never write replies that are less than two paragraphs and I want it to make sense and be good and be enjoyable for my partner, so it takes time. I almost never reply the same day (MAYBE on discord, because there my replies are way shorter and it’s mostly to my best friend), and you’re lucky if I reply within a week. I really try to be faster on this blog because I made a promise to myself (and I was doing okay until the whole virus thing happened and I ran into a bunch of personal problems) AND I am keeping a low profile on this blog so it doesn’t get overwhelming. Long story short, if you are looking for a super active daily replies partner, I am not it for you. If you’re okay with waiting for a while but getting more developed stories and longer replies in turn, then we should talk :)

REPLIES: Are on the longer side on this blog. I don’t really have the patience for one liners because they tend to go nowhere and then feel like bread crumbs of randomness all over my blog. They’re okay sometimes, but more often than not they feel like crack. Writing replies is really exhausting for me sometimes, but I try to force myself because I WANT to do it, I’m just having issues concentrating on one thing at a time so it takes me forever.

STARTERS: I don’t write welcoming starters because 8 out of 10 times they get ignored or are so random that they lead nowhere. If someone writes me a welcoming starter, it depends on the content but usually I’ll try to make it work for me and reply. I don’t often like starter calls because most people write absolutely pointless starters. For example they’ll write a paragraph of explaining what their muse did all day (unrelated to my muse), then walk into some random place they’ve never been to (e.g. a shady bar) and suddenly get surprised by my muse being there, and/or, my personal favorite, say something like “what the hell do you want from me”? Which I struggle with for several reasons. One, if you create a setting but don’t bother explaining why we’re there, you put the entire weight of explaining that (aka creating the actual setting) on ME, but you add an additional complication by making it something that I didn’t come up with, so now I have to introduce a world YOU invented with 0 idea of why you chose that particular location in the first place. Second, you put my muse in a situation that makes no sense for them and again force me to explain that, without even giving me a good reason to. And third, I play very different muses, but most of them are going to lose interest in the conversation immediately if the first thing you say to them is rude af. So, yeah, I actually really struggle with most random starters. Please just plot with me and then I will love you forever for writing me a plotted starter that I know will not create 400 questions in my head that I then have to bother you with, which makes me feel like a nuisance. (Or at least keep the setting neutral? Or try to come up with something that seems reasonable for my muse? I always try to do that and when I am unsure, I message the person who liked my starter calls.) Speaking of which, I rarely post starter calls, because.. well, like I just kind of explained, it’s comes with responsibility and work. And I’m lazy.

INBOX: is open for memes at all times, and questions of any kind. I often don’t get notified, so I sometimes see certain messages months later - when that happens, I usually don’t reply anymore if they’re anon because I’ll assume that person forgot or isn’t even around anymore. Sorry about that! It’s an issue I’ve had on several blogs and I don’t know how to fix it. Anon hate is deleted without comment, unless I feel there’s a point in replying to it publicly, or if it’s entertaining. I don’t roleplay via inbox and therefore any “ic” questions or interactions posted in there will be treated as a one-time meme, if I can reply to them at all. Asks of sexual nature from complete strangers will usually be ignored because Obi-Wan isn’t the muse for that at all. As I’ve stated in my rules I only roleplay with mutuals and therefore won’t roleplay with someone I don’t follow, even if they ignore that rule and start rping with me via inbox. I don’t mean to be dismissive, but I have these rules for a reason and I ask that people read and respect them.

SELECTIVITY: I am selective with whom I follow because I have limited time and energy for this blog (and all my blogs) and therefore find it irresponsible and pointless to accept 600 followers and threads when I know I can’t possibly reply to even 10% of them. Before I follow someone (back) I look at their blogs; in particular at their writing (to see if I like their style and their portrayal), their rules (to see what they like/dislike and if our general understanding of the RPC, roleplay, and in a way social interactions in general go well together), and sometimes their OOC posts to get a feeling of how the other person is. (Obviously I also sometimes don’t follow back when I don’t know the muse or fandom at all.) Blog rules and ooc posts can say A LOT about a person, and there are plenty of people in the RPC (in any fandom) that quickly rose to tumblr fame with shiny graphics and fancy formatting and dozens of well-developed verses and headcanons, but they straight up suck as people outside of writing. My rules state very clearly that I discourage hateful comments, mob mentality and callout culture, and unfortunately many “popular” blogs use exactly these tools to execute their power (which comes from being admired for all the wrong reasons). So, I know many people think being selective means you only pick partners with fancy graphics and poetic writing, but for me it actually means I want decent human beings as partners. I don’t give a shit if you format your posts (as long as you cut them) or if you have a blog with a fancy theme, or just a rules google doc, or if you use icons or not. If I like your writing and you seem like a nice and reasonable person, I’m good to go. If you talk to me about dogs I’m even better to go.

WISHLIST: I always try to have one because I find it very helpful when looking for plot ideas with new partners. I will look at yours if you like a plotting call or something too, but I know not everyone has a wishlist~

HONEST NOTE: I’m not a teenager anymore and I’ve been rping for over 14 years. I work with lots of strangers, I study for a job with lots of strangers. I think about philosophical concepts a lot, about morality and human behavior and I’ve come to the conclusion that kindness, empathy and compassion are some of the core values every single person should focus on to make the world a better place. I have no patience and no interest in engaging in the absolute toxic and harmful hate movement that’s taken over this website (and other social media platforms) in whatsoever way. Occasionally I’ll make a salty comment about it, but only because I’ve had it up to here. I am here to enjoy fandom the way I used to, and the way it used to be meant to be enjoyed - not to completely ignore real issues like world politics, economical and environmental crises, in order to entertain witch hunts on people who happen to enjoy a fictional ship that isn’t 300% approved by puritan statutes of the 1600s. I am responsible for the content I seek out online, and so are you. Does it suck when I see something I dislike? Sure. Is it the fault of the person who posted it? No. Especially not when I read their rules first, like I’m supposed to, and they clearly state that the thing I dislike will appear on their blog. And even if they didn’t, it was my choice to go on their blog and look at their content. If you can’t handle taking responsibility for the content you seek out online, then you are probably not old enough to use the internet unsupervised. I am free to write, read, and post on my personal blog whatever I want, as long as I am not breaking the law. Liking a fictional ship that involves an age gap? Not illegal. Liking a fictional ship that involves siblings? Not illegal. Liking a fictional ship in which one party was abusive to the other at some point? Not illegal. Liking a fictional character who killed your fave? Not illegal. It’s fictional. Get over it. And if you really think that seeing fictional characters or ships online that YOU consider “problematic” is hurting people in real life, then you should join those politicians who burn books that are “corrupting the people’s morals and minds”, who ban video games because they “make gamers violent”, and censor songs from the radio because they “present biased views on people of public importance”. Please reflect on your behavior. Destroying someone’s life because they liked something you don’t, telling them to commit suic/ide, ruining their chance of making friends who maybe share their love for a ship or character.. that’s bullying. Some of the cases I’ve seen on here were so severe, they qualify as serious cyberbullying and should be reported to the police. I don’t give a fuck if you hate Rey/lo or Damon Salva/tore, or the Joker. You don’t go and send someone messages telling them to kill themselves because they RP it. Because that is the real crime. And finally, if you feel the need to “educate” someone you consider “problematic” for whatever reason and you actually approach them - make sure you’re actually there to educate and discuss, not to throw an opinion at them and get aggressive when they don’t immediately magically agree. Because chances are they won’t. If you choose to open a dialogue, make sure it IS a fucking dialogue and not a condescending monologue. Learn how to shape an argument, find evidence to back up your claims - because not only will you become better at talking to people in any kind of situation, you’ll also maybe realize that your opinion wasn’t as well-founded as you thought.

[nymphl]

Lie to Me - Hux x Reader - Ch. 6 - Friends & Foes

A/N - And here I come with chapter 6. I very much enjoy these first chapters of Lie to Me. In fact, my fav part of writing a story is the very beginning, the building relationship and so on. This chapter is just one big scene (not that big if compared to the chapters of BB and ITGB), focused on the aftermath of last chapter events. As always, I hope you enjoy it xD

Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations.

Wordcount: 3920

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT CHAPTER

YOU WERE SPEECHLESS FOR A FEW MINUTES — THE IMPRESSION WAS THAT HOURS HAD GONE BY  — AFTER WHAT HE HAD JUST SAID. 

Confessed?

Was that a confession?

You were not sure and was afraid of finding out.

Thankfully, as soon as he said those words, he left you alone in the bedroom. He did not say where he was headed to and as a matter of fact you were not interested.

A tired sigh left you as you removed your head from your hands. You ran your fingers through your hair, taking a moment to get yourself situated.

The corpse.

Right.

He did kill the member of the Resistance. He did put a hole in his head. He did it in spite of the fact you did not want him to.

Still sitting on the bed, you brought your legs closer to your chest. Chin resting on your knees, you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself. It would not do to lose it now.

But that was so kriffing difficult!

Part of you tried to see reason behind his actions. You lifted your head and started lowering your fingers one by one, as you began to number his possible motives.

One, the man would kill you. Two, the man would have killed him. Perhaps not him. He proved capable of defending himself — and you, a small voice nagged in the back of your head. By killing the man, he saved your life as well. He did not need to. He could have let you die, but he did not.

That makes you my greatest weakness.

If that was indeed the truth — and he had no reason to lie; he himself believed he chose you because of something… love… perhaps? More like possession, even though he did not recall it thoroughly — you had to somehow exploit it, right?

You gulped.

That left you with only one reason.

A nagging voice in the back of your mind said that perhaps he killed the man because he wanted to. Because it was fun. Because he… you did not know… belonged to an Order whose main objective was to enslave everyone and kill those who disagreed?

You shook your head. If you stayed in the bed forever, your unstoppable and guilty mind would come up with hundreds of reasons why he should not be trusted and why you should have killed him — left him for dead — and right now you needed him to trust you. You had to… exploit the fact he did not have his memories and use it for… good? Whatever good and bad could entail… You had to figure out how far he would go to bring his plans to fruition — whatever they may be.

And there was still a body waiting to be buried.

Errrr…

You were glad your stomach was empty; otherwise, you would be emptying it real quickly.

Ah, for the maker!

There was some part of you that doubted you would be able to eat for a few days.

You left the bedroom and walked to the kitchen — where he was not present at the given moment — and the hall, where there was no dead body.

“What in the kriffing hell?”

The door was opened, and you could see — a mere shadow — the General with a bottle in his hands — you did not need to look at the cupboard to know the Tihaar was missing — looking at a pile of ashes.

You even thought about going after him, but you were not sure you were ready for the conversation that was to follow. Or to see that corpse again without feeling the worst of monsters.

Turning around, you looked for some herbs to make tea, and this time you were relieved to know he did not cook.

Considering that he took care of the body, you were glad to be left with dinner, even if you had no stomach to think about food right now.

He needs to eat, you told yourself. He was still recovering, going a night by without dinner would not do.

And you yourself had to eat; getting sick when you had so many lives to take care of would be just reckless of you. Imprudent. The hospital needed as many healers as possible right now. And you stayed away for far too long nursing him.

You were so afraid he would die on you, you took some days off and even forgot to eat while taking care of him.

Taping on the water, you washed your hands and set the necessary items to make a tritacale pie on the counter. Triticale pie was not the most your favorite recipe, but you thought that eating something more consistent would do him some good.  

He was already on the threshold, leaning against it. You looked at him over your shoulders and bit your bottom lip. He did not seem keen of initiating a conversation — and whenever he did, he left you more nervous than you could deal right now —, so you did it yourself.   

“Please… Don’t do that anymore.”

He folded his arms at his chest and arched his eyebrows, as if saying you should continue.

You drew in a sharp breath. Looking at him was not helping, so you shifted your attention to the vegetables and started chopping them.   

“You know what I am talking about.”

He remained silent.

For the maker!

He was going to make it difficult for you.

You opened your mouth to continue, but he cut you short, “I make no idle promises.”

Realizing you were gaping, you closed your mouth. You were grimacing at the vegetables. Your heart was not in it, if he did think your cooking abilities were not that good before — you thought he did and again why did it matter? —, he would be sure now. 

“At least don’t do that while I am around.”

He did not give you any reply.

No idle promises.

Right.

He was insufferable!

Unable to take more of his silence and his intense blue eyes focused on your back, you trailed off, “The corpse…”

“Taken care of.”

“But—

“It has already been taken care of.” His voice was firmer this time, from the straight and harsh line of his lips, you knew that he was not pleased about the topic at hand. “Nothing you should concern yourself about.”

“I just…

“Mrs. Syndulla, let’s change topics, shall we?”

His whispered voice — so threatening, so low and so devoid of any amiable emotion — had you sweating.

There we go.

I’m doomed.

“Mrs. Hux,” you corrected, and the words felt bitter in your tongue. Now you wished you had a bit of Jawa Juice at hand. Tihaar would simply not do. Too strong and too bitter to your liking.

“It’s not the first time a member of the Resistance drops by to a short visit.”

It was definitely not a question.

You wetted your lips.

What to do? What to kriffing do?

You decided to go for the truth.

“No.”

Looking down, you washed your hands once again and dried it in a dishcloth. They were trembling slightly. You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your nerves.

“But it’s been some time since they last came by.”

He moved from the threshold, placed the bottle of Tihaar on the table, and walked to you. His steps forced you to back against the sink.

Oh, for the maker!

Would he just stop doing that?

By the way the words left his mouth, you were sure they tasted like ashes, “I find it hard to believe.”

You swallowed.

Yeap.

He was going to definitely make it hard for you.

“It’s the truth,” you whispered, walking to him. You stopped right in front of him, giving him no opportunity to corner you. Go for the truth, a voice in the back of your head whispered. Well… At least you could go for the partial truth. “I know I’ve not been telling you everything…” You touched his face, taking your sweet time with his sharp cheekbones and five o’clock shadow. You did like him like that — even if he disagreed —, it made him less alike your husband and the more differences you could find between them, the better for your own sanity. “But that’s because I worry for your health, if I told you everything… What I mean is, I am responsible for your health and I would not jeopardize it for the sake of some old memories.”

He placed one of his hands over yours, keeping them in place; the other moved to your waist, pulling you against him. He surely was a man who enjoyed getting physical with you.

“That…” He was focused on your eyes as he continued; his hand was inside your shirt, caressing the small of your back. You gasped, if for the words or the contact of his warm fingers against your skin, you did not know, “or you are afraid of what I may recall.”

Eyes widened, you partially forgot how to breathe for a moment.

You opened your mouth, ready to explain yourself — even if you had no idea how to do it —, but he placed a finger on your lips, silencing you for good.

“That does not require an answer.”

He brushed your bottom lip. Your heart was beating madly against your ribcages. You had no idea how to react. Your hands left his face and moved to his shoulders. You did not dare step away, not when he still had his hand inside your shirt, keeping you close.

“Let’s make a deal, Mrs. Hux,” he started; eyes intense and unreadable. You simply hated how easily he could read you and how difficult it was for you to do the same with him. “You tell me the truth for the next few questions and I promise to trust you in the future.”

You bit your bottom lip.

That was an interesting deal, but trust was not really something concrete. He could say he trusted you while mistrusting you.

And he was far better at pretending than you.

“And I promise to only touch you when you ask for it.”

As if you ever would.

You bit your bottom lip.

That was a certainly better — and fitting — proposition. He stepped away from you, as if to show you he would hold to his words.

“That’s no idle promise,” he continued and took a seat at the dining table. You joined him, unsure of yourself. That was a dangerous game, this one you were playing, but it was like that from the start. “I am perfectly aware you fear physical intimacy with me.”

You kept your mouth shut.

What else could you say?

He looked at you as if expecting an answer, but you merely bit your bottom lip.

“That was not a question, my Lord. You said I only had to answer your questions.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but you could see that he was if not proud of your quick rebuttal; he was at least amused at your courage.

“Very well.” He poured some Tihaar for him in a glass and looked at you. You nodded.

Both of you drank it at the same time.

Kriffs! How you wanted some Jawa Juice right now!

“You never told anyone Aquilla Syndulla died.” He had his eyes completely focused on you as he continued, “why?”     

You shook your head.

Only a few people knew it. And certainly no one you worked with. After your husband disappeared, you left your home and everything you knew. You came back to a place you had lived before with Aquilla, in the beginning of your marriage; before he became a living legend across the galaxy.

You stopped using his name and everyone called you a healer now. It was mostly improbable someone of the Resistance — or someone who tried to use their name to gain some advantage over hopeful and poor people — would find you and call you by your husband’s name in this remote area.

To think they would know you were housing a member of the First Order was not only surprising, but actually shocking.

“No one even knows who I am,” you finally found your voice. Still looking down, you stared at your feet as if your toes were the most interesting things in the galaxy. “Only a few people… but mind their own businesses.”

There was silence for a moment, as if he contemplated your words and thought about a reply. He was a man who always knew what he said, you noticed, and this time was no different.

However, when he did speak, it was a surprise. You lifted your head and furrowed your brows at his statement.

“No one knows you are my wife.”

“Does it matter?” Before you could control yourself, the words just spilled your mouth. You brought your hands over your lips and thought how screwed you were.

Kriffs!

Now you had said it, you had to give him a decent explanation. 

“You are not with the First Order anymore, but—" You stopped yourself. You had to play this right, or he would never believe you. “They never—

“Let any of their assets go that easily.”  

You sighed in relief. He was finally starting to see reason.

“Your reasoning has some merit.” He looked away, hands interlaced over the table; you knew he was in deep thinking. “I do wonder, however, why I would leave the First Order.”

He rose from his chair and approached the windows. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of someone coming for the man who died earlier. However, he was far too relaxed for that. At least, as relaxed as possible for him. He had his hands behind his back, his shoulders squared.

“They’ve tried to kill you?” You spoke as if that was obvious. You even approached him, but when he looked at you over his shoulder, you stopped right where you were. “I thought we were past that…” You mused quietly.

He looked at you over his shoulders, his eyes narrowed.

“I am aware of that. However, there always have been threats against my life.”

You looked down. If that was to work out, you had to crush this romantic notion he had about the First Order.

“This time they almost succeeded. And they would have, if I didn’t reach you in time.”

Your answer felt like a slap to his face; the way he looked at you said that much.

“You may not remember it, but they betra—

“I know it.”

You could swear behind his cold intonation there was some hurt. Subconsciously, you walked to him, reached for his hand, but he walked away before you could touch him.

Great!

Just great!

The silence was so thick there was a huge bantha in the room.

“Listen…” you started, not really sure where this might lead you. This time you were the one to lean against the threshold, arms folded on your chest; you were almost hugging yourself. “I… I… We are not with the Resistance. I mean… We are not with the First Order either and I am not sure we can trust any of them. The rebels would not have you and clearly the First Order descart—

“Enough.”

His voice and the way he turned on his heels to face you made it clear that speaking of the First Order was off topic. His next question, however, was what had you furrowing your brows and doubting his sanity.

“And why are we not with the Resistance?”

“I…I…” You reached for his forehead, sure he was feverish or something like that. He was not making any sense. He intercepted your hand, holding it between his. “I told you, they would not have you. They would possibly kill you or hand you back to the First Order.”

“Not General Organa.”

You bit your bottom lip.

He was right.

At least, partially right.

General Organa would never kill him. She did not use the same means as the First Order or the Empire in the old days.

She was different.

She was better.

But she did not rule alone. It was no Empire with a single Empress ruling above all. You were not sure she would go against the entire Alliance because of a single man. A single life. An enemy none the less.  

She didn’t in the past.

Not for your husband.

Not for you.

“There is no sovereignty in the Resistance. She will listen to her Council and do their bidding.” These words brought back some memories you did not want to recall. You looked down and remained with your eyes glued to the floor.

There was a moment of silence. You thought hours had gone by before you finally looked up and found him staring back at you with curiosity in his eyes.

“You resent the Resistance,” he stated, his eyebrow arched lightly. As if knowing you would not answer him, unless he made you a direct question, he added, “why?”

This time, you mimicked him and took your moment to reply. When you did, it was neither what the two of you had in mind.

“Why are you so interested in them?”

You surprised yourself with your boldness. Just like the day in which you demanded him to kiss you, you did not know where this bold attitude came from. You unfolded your arms and sighed.

“You just never cogitated the option of joining the Resistance…” You cast a glance at him. From his arched eyebrows, you already knew what to say next, “You still don’t. I see…”

Realization sunk on you…

…leaving you disappointed. No matter how much he felt betrayed and abandoned by the First Order, he still did not think of the Resistance as a viable option.

That was… frustrating.

And delayed your plans a bit.

Part of you wanted to take him to General Organa and see how she would act this time, face to face with a past enemy that could help destroy her biggest enemy and an entire organization… Part of you feared her reaction, feared she would let the past repeat itself in a gruesome fashion.

“You did not answer my question.”

His tone was low, and very close to you. You looked up and found him inches away. He was practically invading your personal space.

You would have sighed if his breath was not mixed with yours.

There was no need for him to say anything else. You knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Yes… I feel conflicted about them.”

You took a step towards him and this time he did not prevent you by walking away. He did say he would not touch you if you replied to his questions with the truth. And you did. All of them were answered with the absolute truth so far. He seemed surprised when you sought him out and this time invaded his personal space by yourself. You just stood there, in front of him, not quite touching him, but not far from his grasp either.

That was not a topic you felt comfortable talking about, but you realized that doing it would do you no harm either.

“We needed them in the past…” You took a deep breath. “Aquilla needed their help and they didn’t come…” You looked down, at your feet; you really expected him to not force you to face him. You could not take it right now. He did not. “And when there was word General Organa sent someone to help Emissary Syndulla it was too late.”

He kept silent.

And you never welcomed his silent nature more than in that moment. You did not know if you could take any word from him. There was no need for a comfort gesture — and why would he comfort you after all? If you were now with him, it was solely because Aquilla had… vanished in thin air.

“He never asked for help,” you trailed off. “I did… I did ask for their help, for him. He always thought he could handle everything himself.” You snorted. Eyes still cast on the floor, you watched how closer your feet were placed together. “Turns out he couldn’t.”

There was no answer or any commentary from him. Not that you expected it either. But his silence somehow bothered you this time. His lack of response — and from everyone who knew this story — made you believe they felt sorry for you. They pitied you. The young healer who lost everyone she held dear, including her husband.

“You still love him.”

His whispered words came out of the blue. And even if that was not a question, this time you found yourself answering.

“I do.”

The silence that followed made you look up — look at him. Instead of anger, disappointment or any hard feeling, you found understanding in his eyes. As if suddenly, everything made sense to him.

“I see…”

Realizing that maybe — just maybe — your confession had screwed everything, you reached for him, but he retreated, putting some space between you. You covered your face with both hands, feeling very tired.

Tired of lying.

Tired of pretending.

Tired of trying to guess what he was thinking, feeling or planning.

It was all so exhausting.

“He was my friend… My best friend.” You walked to the bedroom, completely forgetting about dinner. He followed you closely. “How could I not love him?”

You could say that you loved him as well, that you cared for him, but tonight was about telling him the truth and you simply could not say you loved your late husband in one minute and in the next say you loved him.

The fact he did not force you to say anything or asked for any more explanations made you sigh in relief. It spoke volumes about him. In fact, it spoke more about him than yourself.

You knew very little about the almighty General Amirtage Hux, but what you did, made it plainly clear he would never be someone to beg for anything — and certainly not for your love. You admired that about him. Most men — Aquilla included — would question you about your feelings for him, but the General kept his composure.

Making the bed, you looked at him over your shoulder.   

“I am sorry… I am tired. I…” You gestured towards the bed, “I think I will just sleep now.”

He nodded.

Still no answer.

That made you slightly worried, but you were so tired right now — emotionally tired —, drained even, that you shook your head and climbed under the blankets. He stood by the door of the bedroom and turned off the lights as soon as you adjusted the pillow under your head.

You would have said goodnight, but you decided to mimic him and keep your words to yourself. He was probably already gone. You closed your eyes and hummed to yourself — it was either that or end up crying again and even if you were sure he was not in the room anymore, you did not want to risk getting caught moping pathetically once more.

Once — twice, thrice and many other times — was enough.   

He did spoke, however. And what left the General’s mouth would probably hunt you for the rest of your life.

“Thank you…” he whispered, and your eyes shot open, in alarm. He was still in the room. “Thank you for your honesty today. Good night, (Y/N).”

A/N - And that’s all for today! Next chapter will be posted on May 10.

[daggcrisms]

Rules for mobile users

[[here’s a google doc for the updated list of rules, applicable for all my blogs]]

anything under this cut is from my outdated rules.

[rules updated: 07/28/2019]

–STUFF YOU SHOULD DO–

• No godmodding. No sending (implied or explicit) homophobic/transphobic/bigoted messages to me or my character either.

• Please don’t over-pester me for replies. I promise I’ll get to them. Feel free to drop me a reminder after at least a week of no replies, though. In return, I usually give you a week too, unless otherwise specified in your own rules, until I remind you if it’s your turn to reply (or more often, I chicken out and trust that you’ll eventually respond/want to drop it and end up never bringing up that particular thread ever again). You’re always free to start multiple threads with me, that is greatly encouraged because I love having lots of threads with people.

• If you start getting bored with the roleplay, feel free to drop it and/or end it. We can always start up another thread in the future.

• However, please let me know if you want to drop a roleplay thread! It can give me major anxiety when I’m waiting for a response that’s never going to come, and I wonder if I did something wrong and assume that’s why you’re not replying anymore :’) I’m not forcing you to let me know if you want to drop a thread, you can drop it without saying anything too. But I personally really appreciate being told about that sort of thing.

• Don’t reblog a thread you’re not part of. This should go without being said, of course. Personals will be hardblocked immediately, rp blogs will receive a warning.

• If you can trim your threads, please do! It’s fine if you can’t, though, because I will most likely trim the thread for you. If you don’t trim threads with other people, however, I’ll be less likely to follow you since I don’t like scrolling through long posts.

• Please don’t claim any of my art as your own. If you post it somewhere, the least you can do is credit me by at least including a link to my blog or something. Bonus points if you ask me first before reposting my art, but I understand if you’re anxious because so am I :’)

• If any of your art is featured on my blog, as an icon or something and you don’t want me to use your art, please tell me!!! Message me privately or contact me in some way and please let me know that you want your art taken down. As a fellow artist, I understand wanting other people to not use your art (although I am personally fine with it as long as proper credit is given,) but if you’re more strict about it than I am, that’s totally okay too! Just let me know, and I’ll stop using your art immediately, will delete all icons I have of your art, as well as delete every single instance of your art being used on this blog.

• That being said, if you’re following me, please let me know if I’m doing something that’s making you uncomfortable or is breaking one of your rules!! I do read the rules pages of everyone, but I’m human and forget things, and I’m not a mind reader either ;~; I care, so please tell me if I’m ever doing anything bad

• You can reply to any of my open starters at any time! Even if they’re a year old! Even if other people have already replied to it! My open starters are open for a reason, and we don’t have to be mutuals for you to reply to them either :’)

—

–STUFF YOU SHOULD KEEP IN MIND–

• I am of age to do smut, but Kris is a minor so that is a no for this blog! There will occasionally be sex jokes, but that’s about it. No explicit smut in this house.

• This blog is not a spoiler-free one. I will not tag roleplays with spoilers, but anything else will be tagged with Deltarune Spoilers

• I’m alright with roleplaying nsfw in general, minus smut. Gore, violence, and generally dark roleplays are cool with me. I love angsty things just as much as I love fluff ;w; Speaking of gore, you’re more than welcome to fight/harm/injure my muse to any extent! You don’t even have to ask! Come in and fight this gremlin tbh! If you want to do a rp where they die, however, please dm me first.

• I prefer not to roleplay with personals, unless you are someone I know from school or something like that. Personals in general are allowed to follow me too!  However! Personals are not allowed to reblog roleplays, in character posts, or ooc posts especially if I say in the tags that I’m going to delete the post later. Only things that are tagged with my “online reblogs” or “musings” or "art tag" tags are okay to reblog. Headcanon posts are not okay to reblog unless I say otherwise.

• Like spamming is okay! I very occasionally lose roleplays, and getting lots of notes from likes are never a factor for that, for me personally. If I lose a roleplay, it’s mostly just because I forgot, so that’s really a “me” thing. I’m usually very good at keeping track of who I’m roleplaying with and how many ongoing threads I have, and I reply pretty consistently, so just remind me if I haven’t responded after five or more days (as stated in one of the above rules)! And I like it when people like my posts! It lets me know that you like my blog and the stuff I post, and it makes me happy :’)

• If you are an OC, I will assume our muses have never met unless you plan ahead with me what their relationship is like.

• That being said, characters who have already interacted in canon will know each other. Unless the roleplay takes place in a different point of time and we are staging their first meeting, of course.

• Kris will be pretty meta sometimes. They are aware of who Players are (they're definitely not fond of them other than the few good players they've met), and they know they live in the game world, and are aware of alternate universes and things of that nature.

• Kris is nonbinary on this blog. Although, I don’t care if you refer to them as a boy or a girl (Kris personally will care if you refer to them as a girl though, because they usually Don’t like that). Their order of preference for pronouns is they/he/she, although they will definitely like you more if you use exclusively they/them pronouns. I respect all headcanons about Kris’ gender, and same goes for any Frisks and Charas. If you play a KFC kid, gendered or not, I will use the pronouns they want used, and I do hope that you use they/them pronouns for my Kris. I personally will default to using they/them for other Krises, Frisks, and Charas unless specified on your blog. No discourse about this, please. 

• Doubles are welcome to interact too! Of course they are, considering the Kris Squad. I’m also cool with interacting with and following multiple blogs who portray the same character other than Krises as well!

• This blog will not have mains. However, the only “main” they really have is the Berdly over at @berdbrainx. That Berdly originates in their timeline in the “main verse.” Other than him, they will not have any specific version of a muse that they’ll talk about in threads, unless the thread is specifically about that one muse for some reason. For Deltarune non-Kris blogs, they will typically be the Kris in your universe unless you already have a Kris main or you talk about it with me beforehand. Doubles of Kris will be treated as alternates. In their “main verse” in spontaneous roleplays/asks/replies to in-character posts (online roleplays), they reside in their own separate timeline. It’s a classic timeline that doesn’t have any other muses in it, so they don’t have a specific blog’s Susie, or Noelle, or other character that is from their own timeline. So they will treat your muse as if they are an alternate of their own timeline’s counterpart of them.

• I’m pretty lenient with short replies. Don’t feel pressured to match the length if my reply gets long! Multi-para (usually 2-5 paragraphs) is my go-to for roleplays, so I usually do long replies by default.

• Adding onto that, I honestly don’t mind one-liners. Of course, in crack/online roleplays it’s fine but I’m okay with it in serious roleplays too. I prefer it if you don’t give me one-liners, but hey, as long as I’m still having fun with the roleplay anyway, it’s cool with me! I understand not being able to think of anything to write, so just as long as you don’t give me one or two words as your reply like ‘He smiled.’ or ’*laughs*’, I’ll be cool with it. Put at least some effort even if you’re only gonna give me one sentence, otherwise I’ll drop the rp once it becomes a repeat offense.

• I will not change the formatting of my roleplays to fit yours. I’m comfortable with sticking to only paragraph style roleplays, thank you very much. Feel free to keep formatting your own posts though, because I think formatting looks really cool! I just don’t want to format my posts, however. I will not go all out with formatting my own posts with all that cool ‘small text’, and indents, and bolding and all that. The most I ever do with my formatting is italics for emphasis on certain words, and using icons.

• I tend to move roleplays from asks onto its own post. If I send you an ask meme and you answer it, I'll respond by making a new post, tagging you, and linking to your reply. Until formatting on asks are fixed, I will answer any asks sent to me in a new text post rather than asks.

• I accept any sort of asks! If they aren’t answered after a while, either I don’t know how to answer it or I might be drawing it out and I am a very slow artist- Sorry-

• Feel free to tag me in any of those tagging memes! I don’t mind and I think they’re pretty fun to do! ^^

• Adding onto the above rule, you’re more than welcome to send me those chain asks like “send this to 10 roleplayers you think are really great!” because it’s super duper nice that you would think to send one to me! But don’t expect me to send them to other people, because I won’t :’) my anxiety won’t let me, so I’m sorry-

• If I follow you, that means I’ve already read all of your rules. I might not send the codephrase, though, because most of the time I get very anxious over having to send things like that. I’m very sorry–! But if I follow you then chances are that I have definitely read them before following- If you choose not to trust me on this, I understand.

• I generally follow every rp blog that follows me, but I might not follow some people back for a few reasons. Some might be for the type of content you post on your blog, but I am still non-selective! I will roleplay with anyone who asks (unless you wanna rp gross things or you’re a mean person,,,, like your muse can be as much of a dick as you want, that’s no problem but don’t be gross to other people as yourself) and if I do roleplay with you, I will be more likely to follow you as well.

• Adding onto the above rule, however, please respect that it’s nothing personal if I ever unfollow you either! It’s not that I hate you or anything, but if you haven’t followed me back and you’re a private rp blog, or if we’re mutuals but never really roleplay, our muses just don’t click, you spam stuff that I don’t want to see on my dash, or you’ve become inactive for years and/or don’t interact with me anymore, there’s nothing wrong with that! We can still be friends but I prefer to have all the people I follow be potential rp partners. Feel free to follow me on my personal, @briightskies, if you still wanna keep in touch but not rp :’)

—

–ABOUT THIS BLOG–

• This blog is OC, multiverse, and crossover friendly! I love OCs and have many of my own tbh, you’re all more than welcome to come rp with me!!

• I’ll also rp with fandoms I’m not into either, as long as you have a good about section for your character, which also indicates how you portray them (any headcanons or AUs you have that aren’t canon, or whether you portray them as canonly as possible, unless they’re OCs of course since a regular about page is a given) and I’ll probably look up other things about that fandom in its wiki if I don’t know what something is anyway.

• This blog is multiship! So any relationships my muse is involved in, are in different timelines unless specified. Poly relationships aren’t bad though, just saying. I ship pretty much anything unless it’s incest or if they’re children paired with someone a lot older. Selfcest is fine too. Because Kris is a minor, they won’t really get intimate with their partners, but romantic stuff is a-okay.

• I also only ship with chemistry. My muses need to get to know yours first, so don’t get disappointed if they only see you as a friend/acquaintance at first and has no intention of pursuing a romantic relationship with your muse. Give my muse reasons to care about your muse and let the feelings develop naturally, and don’t ever force your muse on mine. Unless it’s to mess with them, or whatever other reason. Unrequited stuff is absolutely okay with me too!

• I will tag common triggers and such, but don’t be afraid to tell me if you have something you want me to tag! I promise I’ll remember to tag it from then on. I do not have any known triggers myself. Any trigger warning tags will be written as “tw; ____” with a semi-colon, not a colon. If I feel like something should be tagged as a trigger but I’m not sure what to tag it exactly, I’ll just tag it as “tw” as a sort of catch-all tag.

|     Requested tagged triggers:

tw; gore

tw; contagious diseases

tw; self harm

tw; child abuse

tw; spiders

tw; blood

tw; homestuck

tw; fnaf

tw; drugs

tw; smoking

tw; alcohol

tw; needles

• I will only talk through the IM system ooc. If you send me a message through there, I will not respond with ooc brackets ((these things)) because I will automatically assume you know that you’re talking to the mun. I do not do roleplays on there.

-

Thank you for reading this really long list of rules! It means a lot if you did!

There’s no password, because I’m also anxious with those for other people’s blogs as I said above. But if you would like to interact with me, you can shoot me an ask directed to my muse, or like one of my starter call posts at any time (also feel free to re-like those posts so I can make another starter for you at any time!) for me to write you a starter!

[berdbrainx]

Rules for mobile users

[[here’s a google doc for the updated list of rules, applicable for all my blogs]]

anything under this cut is from my outdated rules.

[rules updated: 08/14/2019]

–STUFF YOU SHOULD DO–

• No godmodding. No sending (implied or explicit) homophobic/transphobic/bigoted messages to me or my character either.

• Please don’t over-pester me for replies. I promise I’ll get to them. Feel free to drop me a reminder after at least a week of no replies, though. In return, I usually give you a week too, unless otherwise specified in your own rules, until I remind you if it’s your turn to reply (or more often, I chicken out and trust that you’ll eventually respond/want to drop it and end up never bringing up that particular thread ever again). You’re always free to start multiple threads with me, that is greatly encouraged because I love having lots of threads with people.

• If you start getting bored with the roleplay, feel free to drop it and/or end it. We can always start up another thread in the future.

• However, please let me know if you want to drop a roleplay thread! It can give me major anxiety when I’m waiting for a response that’s never going to come, and I wonder if I did something wrong and assume that’s why you’re not replying anymore :’) I’m not forcing you to let me know if you want to drop a thread, you can drop it without saying anything too. But I personally really appreciate being told about that sort of thing.

• Don’t reblog a thread you’re not part of. This should go without being said, of course. Personals will be hardblocked immediately, rp blogs will receive a warning.

• If you can trim your threads, please do! It's fine if you can't, though, because I will most likely trim the thread for you. If you don't trim threads with other people, however, I'll be less likely to follow you since I don't like scrolling through long posts.

• Please don’t claim any of my art as your own. If you post it somewhere, the least you can do is credit me by at least including a link to my blog or something. Bonus points if you ask me first before reposting my art, but I understand if you’re anxious because so am I :’)

• If any of your art is featured on my blog, as an icon or something and you don’t want me to use your art, please tell me!!! Message me privately or contact me in some way and please let me know that you want your art taken down. As a fellow artist, I understand wanting other people to not use your art (although I am personally fine with it as long as proper credit is given,) but if you’re more strict about it than I am, that’s totally okay too! Just let me know, and I’ll stop using your art immediately, will delete all icons I have of your art, as well as delete every single instance of your art being used on this blog.

• That being said, if you’re following me, please let me know if I’m doing something that’s making you uncomfortable or is breaking one of your rules!! I do read the rules pages of everyone, but I’m human and forget things, and I’m not a mind reader either ;~; I care, so please tell me if I’m ever doing anything bad

• You can reply to any of my open starters at any time! Even if they’re a year old! Even if other people have already replied to it! My open starters are open for a reason, and we don’t have to be mutuals for you to reply to them either :’)

—

–STUFF YOU SHOULD KEEP IN MIND–

• I am of age to do smut, but Berdly is a minor so that is a no for this blog! There will occasionally be sex jokes, but that’s about it. No explicit smut in this house.

• This blog is not a spoiler-free one. I will not tag roleplays with spoilers, but anything else will be tagged with Deltarune Spoilers

• I’m alright with roleplaying nsfw in general, minus smut. Gore, violence, and generally dark roleplays are cool with me. I love angsty things just as much as I love fluff ;w; Speaking of gore, you’re more than welcome to fight/harm/injure my muse to any extent! You don’t even have to ask! Come in and fuckin deck Berdly in the face, I approve greatly!! If you want to do a rp where he dies, however, please dm me first.

• I prefer not to roleplay with personals, unless you are someone I know from school or something like that. Personals in general are allowed to follow me too!  However! Personals are not allowed to reblog roleplays, in character posts, or ooc posts especially if I say in the tags that I'm going to delete the post later. Only things that are tagged with my "musings" or "art tag" tags are okay to reblog. Headcanon posts are not okay to reblog unless I say otherwise.

• Like spamming is okay! I very occasionally lose roleplays, and getting lots of notes from likes are never a factor for that, for me personally. If I lose a roleplay, it’s mostly just because I forgot, so that’s really a “me” thing. I’m usually very good at keeping track of who I’m roleplaying with and how many ongoing threads I have, and I reply pretty consistently, so just remind me if I haven’t responded after five or more days (as stated in one of the above rules)! And I like it when people like my posts! It lets me know that you like my blog and the stuff I post, and it makes me happy :’)

• If you are an OC, I will assume our muses have never met unless you plan ahead with me what their relationship is like.

• That being said, characters who have already interacted in canon will know each other. Unless the roleplay takes place in a different point of time and we are staging their first meeting, of course.

• Doubles are welcome to interact too! Although currently I don’t know of much other Berdly roleplay blogs lmao. I’m also cool with interacting with and following multiple blogs who portray the same character! Such as the Kris squad.

• This blog will not have mains. Other than the Kris at @daggcrisms. That Kris originates in his timeline in the "main verse". Excluding them, he will not have any specific version of a muse that he’ll talk about in threads, unless the thread is specifically about that one muse for some reason. For Deltarune blogs, he will typically be the Berdly in your muse’s timeline in serious roleplays, unless your muse is part of an AU/UA/canon-divergent universe, or there are things about your muse’s backstory that would contradict Berdly being in your timeline naturally (like Berdly being dead or something), or you talk about it with me beforehand. In his “main verse” in spontaneous roleplays/asks/replies to in-character posts, he resides in his own separate timeline. It’s a classic timeline that doesn’t have any other muses in it, so he doesn’t have a specific blog’s Susie, or Noelle, that is from his own timeline. Only Sponte/Kris from the blog mentioned above.

• I’m pretty lenient with short replies. Don’t feel pressured to match the length if my reply gets long! Multi-para (usually 2-5 paragraphs) is my go-to for roleplays, so I usually do long replies by default.

• Adding onto that, I honestly don’t mind one-liners. Of course, in crack/online roleplays it's fine but I'm okay with it in serious roleplays too. I prefer it if you don’t give me one-liners, but hey, as long as I’m still having fun with the roleplay anyway, it’s cool with me! I understand not being able to think of anything to write, so just as long as you don’t give me one or two words as your reply like ‘He smiled.’ or ’*laughs*’, I’ll be cool with it. Put at least some effort even if you’re only gonna give me one sentence, otherwise I’ll drop the rp once it becomes a repeat offense.

• I will not change the formatting of my roleplays to fit yours. I’m comfortable with sticking to only paragraph style roleplays, thank you very much. Feel free to keep formatting your own posts though, because I think formatting looks really cool! I just don’t want to format my posts, however. I will not go all out with formatting my own posts with all that cool ‘small text’, and indents, and bolding and all that. The most I ever do with my formatting is italics for emphasis on certain words, and using icons.

• I tend to move roleplays from asks onto its own post. If I send you an ask meme and you answer it, I'll respond by making a new post, tagging you, and linking to your reply. Until formatting on asks are fixed, I will answer any asks sent to me in a new text post rather than asks.

• I accept any sort of asks! If they aren’t answered after a while, either I don’t know how to answer it or I might be drawing it out and I am a very slow artist- Sorry-

• Feel free to tag me in any of those tagging memes! I don’t mind and I think they’re pretty fun to do! ^^

• Adding onto the above rule, you’re more than welcome to send me those chain asks like “send this to 10 roleplayers you think are really great!” because it’s super duper nice that you would think to send one to me! But don’t expect me to send them to other people, because I won’t :’) my anxiety won’t let me, so I’m sorry-

• If I follow you, that means I’ve already read all of your rules. I might not send the codephrase, though, because most of the time I get very anxious over having to send things like that. I’m very sorry–! But if I follow you then chances are that I have definitely read them before following- If you choose not to trust me on this, I understand.

• I generally follow every rp blog that follows me, but I might not follow some people back for a few reasons. Some might be for the type of content you post on your blog, but I am still non-selective! I will roleplay with anyone who asks (unless you wanna rp gross things or you’re a mean person,,,, like your muse can be as much of a dick as you want, that’s no problem but don’t be gross to other people as yourself) and if I do roleplay with you, I will be more likely to follow you as well.

• Adding onto the above rule, however, please respect that it’s nothing personal if I ever unfollow you either! It’s not that I hate you or anything, but if you haven’t followed me back and you’re a private rp blog, or if we’re mutuals but never really roleplay, our muses just don’t click, you spam stuff that I don’t want to see on my dash, or you’ve become inactive for years and/or don’t interact with me anymore, there’s nothing wrong with that! We can still be friends but I prefer to have all the people I follow be potential rp partners. Feel free to follow me on my personal, Briightskies, if you still wanna keep in touch but not rp :’)

—

–ABOUT THIS BLOG–

• This blog is OC, multiverse, and crossover friendly! I love OCs and have many of my own tbh, you’re all more than welcome to come rp with me!!

• I’ll also rp with fandoms I’m not into either, as long as you have a good about section for your character, which also indicates how you portray them (any headcanons or AUs you have that aren’t canon, or whether you portray them as canonly as possible, unless they’re OCs of course since a regular about page is a given) and I’ll probably look up other things about that fandom in its wiki if I don’t know what something is anyway.

• This blog is multiship! So any relationships my muse is involved in, are in different timelines unless specified. Poly relationships aren’t bad though, just saying. I ship pretty much anything unless it’s incest or if they’re children paired with someone a lot older. Selfcest is fine too (though I really don’t know how to feel about Berdly x Berdly,,,,,, I mean, if you want to try it with me, go for it lol!). Because Berdly is a minor, he won’t really get intimate with his partners, but romantic stuff is a-okay.

• I also only ship with chemistry. My muses need to get to know yours first, so don’t get disappointed if he only sees you as a friend/acquaintance at first and has no intention of pursuing a romantic relationship with your muse. Give my muse reasons to care about your muse and let the feelings develop naturally, and don’t ever force your muse on mine. Unless it’s to mess with him, or whatever other reason. Unrequited stuff is absolutely okay with me too!

• I will tag common triggers and such, but don’t be afraid to tell me if you have something you want me to tag! I promise I’ll remember to tag it from then on. I do not have any known triggers myself. Any trigger warning tags will be written as “tw; ____” with a semi-colon, not a colon.

|     Requested tagged triggers:

tw; gore

tw; spiders

tw; insects

tw; blood

tw; homestuck

tw; smoking

tw; drugs

tw; alcohol

tw; needles

tw; oceans

tw; cutting

duplicates // (if anyone else has a specific way they want something tagged that's different from my tagging style, please let me know)

tw; zombies

tw; bats

tw; maggots

tw; sibling death

tw; sibling peril

• I will only talk through the IM system ooc. If you send me a message through there, I will not respond with ooc brackets ((these things)) because I will automatically assume you know that you’re talking to the mun. I do not do roleplays on there.

-

Thank you for reading this really long list of rules! It means a lot if you did!

There’s no password, because I’m also anxious with those for other people’s blogs as I said above. But if you would like to interact with me, you can shoot me an ask directed to my muse, or like one of my starter call posts at any time (also feel free to re-like those posts so I can make another starter for you at any time!) for me to write you a starter!

[emptyxhere]

Rules for mobile users

[[here’s a google doc for the updated list of rules, applicable for all my blogs]]

anything under this cut is from my outdated rules.

[rules updated: 07/28/2019]

–STUFF YOU SHOULD DO–

• No godmodding. No sending (implied or explicit) homophobic/transphobic/bigoted messages to me or my character either.

• Assume the majority of this blog’s interactions will take place over social media. However, I’m still interested in doing face to face interactions for this muse, upon request, or if you send in an ask meme starter prompt! If you’re not interested in blog-style roleplaying, that’s alright. This Frisk is connected to the player known as Zenith (@xceancyes) so some lore stuff might happen on this blog if you want to follow along with online shenanigans.

• In any face to face interactions: if you start getting bored with the roleplay, feel free to drop it and/or end it. We can always start up another thread in the future.

• Please don’t over-pester me for replies. I promise I’ll get to them. Feel free to drop me a reminder after at least a week of no replies, though. In return, I usually give you a week too, unless otherwise specified in your own rules, until I remind you if it’s your turn to reply (or more often, I chicken out and trust that you’ll eventually respond/want to drop it and end up never bringing up that particular thread ever again). You’re always free to start multiple threads with me, that is greatly encouraged because I love having lots of threads with people.

• However, please let me know if you want to drop a roleplay thread! It can give me major anxiety when I’m waiting for a response that’s never going to come, and I wonder if I did something wrong and assume that’s why you’re not replying anymore :’) I’m not forcing you to let me know if you want to drop a thread, you can drop it without saying anything too. But I personally really appreciate being told about that sort of thing.

• Don’t reblog a f2f thread you’re not part of. This should go without being said, of course. Personals will be immediately hardblocked, and rp blogs will receive a warning.

• Please know that any in character post is okay to reblog or reply to if we’re mutuals! But out of character posts are not okay to reblog, unless stated otherwise, or it is a promo or art I’ve done.

• If you can trim your threads, please do! It’s fine if you can’t, though, because I will most likely trim the thread for you. If you don’t trim threads with other people, however, I’ll be less likely to follow you since I don’t like scrolling through long posts.

• Please don’t claim any of my art as your own. If you post it somewhere, the least you can do is credit me by at least including a link to my blog or something. Bonus points if you ask me first before reposting my art, but I understand if you’re anxious because so am I :’)

• That being said, if you’re following me, please let me know if I’m doing something that’s making you uncomfortable or is breaking one of your rules!! I do read the rules pages of everyone, but I’m human and forget things, and I’m not a mind reader either ;~; I care, so please tell me if I’m ever doing anything bad

—

–STUFF YOU SHOULD KEEP IN MIND–

• I am of age to do smut, but Frisk is definitely not! They are a baby!! No smut in this house.

• This blog is not a spoiler-free one.

• I’m alright with roleplaying nsfw in general, minus smut. Gore, violence, and generally dark roleplays are cool with me. It should be, considering this is a genocide Frisk anyway. I love angsty things just as much as I love fluff ;w; Plus, their first instinct to seeing a monster now is to kill them, so they’ll probably fight any monster muses on sight. Speaking of gore, you’re more than welcome to fight/harm/injure my muse to any extent! You don’t even have to ask! If you want to do a rp where they die, however, please dm me first. (this rule is for f2f interactions)

• I prefer not to interact with personals. Personals in general are allowed to follow me though! However! Personals are not allowed to reblog roleplays, in character posts, or ooc posts especially if I say in the tags that I’m going to delete the post later. Only things that are tagged with my “reblogs” or “musings” or “art tag” tags are okay to reblog. Headcanon posts are not okay to reblog unless I say otherwise.

• Like spamming is okay! I very occasionally lose roleplays, and getting lots of notes from likes are never a factor for that, for me personally. If I lose a roleplay, it’s mostly just because I forgot, so that’s really a “me” thing. And I like it when people like my posts! It lets me know that you like my blog and the stuff I post, and it makes me happy :’)

• If you are an OC, I will assume our muses have never met unless you plan ahead with me what their relationship is like.

• That being said, characters who have already interacted in canon will know each other. Unless the roleplay takes place in a different point of time and we are staging their first meeting, of course.

• Frisk will be pretty meta sometimes. They are aware of who Players are (they’re definitely not fond of them considering what their’s made them do), and they know they live in the game world. Although they are not aware of alternate universes and things of that nature yet.

• Like I said above, Frisk is connected to the player known as Zenith. He was the player who controlled their adventure three years ago.

• Frisk is nonbinary on this blog. Although, I don’t care if you refer to them as a boy or a girl (Frisk has no preference). Their order of preference for pronouns is they/she/he, although they will definitely like you more if you use exclusively they/them pronouns. I respect all headcanons about Frisk’s gender, and same goes for any Krises and Charas. If you play a KFC kid, gendered or not, I will use the pronouns they want used, and I do hope that you use they/them pronouns for my Frisk. I personally will default to using they/them for other Krises, Frisks, and Charas unless specified on your blog. No discourse about this, please.

• Doubles are welcome to interact too! I’m also cool with interacting with and following multiple blogs who portray the same character other than Frisks as well!

• This blog will not have mains. Of course most of the monsters in their timeline are dead, other than Flowey, Asgore and Sans(?), and any monster who managed to evacuate.

• Regarding face to face interactions: I’m pretty lenient with short replies. Don’t feel pressured to match the length if my reply gets long! Multi-para (usually 2-5 paragraphs) is my go-to for roleplays, so I usually do long replies by default.

• Adding onto that, I honestly don’t mind one-liners. Of course, in crack/online roleplays it’s fine but I’m okay with it in serious roleplays too. I prefer it if you don’t give me one-liners, but hey, as long as I’m still having fun with the roleplay anyway, it’s cool with me! I understand not being able to think of anything to write, so just as long as you don’t give me one or two words as your reply like ‘He smiled.’ or ’*laughs*’, I’ll be cool with it. Put at least some effort even if you’re only gonna give me one sentence, otherwise I’ll drop the rp once it becomes a repeat offense.

• I will not change the formatting of my roleplays to fit yours. I’m comfortable with sticking to only paragraph style roleplays, thank you very much. Feel free to keep formatting your own posts though, because I think formatting looks really cool! I just don’t want to format my posts, however. I do not currently have any icons for this blog, and I will not go all out with formatting my own posts with all that cool ‘small text’, and indents, and bolding and all that. The most I ever do with my formatting is italics for emphasis on certain words.

• I tend to move f2f roleplays from asks onto its own post. If I send you an ask meme and you answer it, I’ll respond by making a new post, tagging you, and linking to your reply. Until formatting on asks are fixed, I will answer any asks sent to me in a new text post rather than asks.

• I accept any sort of asks! If they aren’t answered after a while, either I don’t know how to answer it or I might be drawing it out and I am a very slow artist- Sorry-

• Feel free to tag me in any of those tagging memes! I don’t mind and I think they’re pretty fun to do! ^^

• Adding onto the above rule, you’re more than welcome to send me those chain asks like “send this to 10 roleplayers you think are really great!” because it’s super duper nice that you would think to send one to me! But don’t expect me to send them to other people, because I won’t :’) my anxiety won’t let me, so I’m sorry-

• If I follow you, that means I’ve already read all of your rules. I might not send the codephrase, though, because most of the time I get very anxious over having to send things like that. I’m very sorry–! But if I follow you then chances are that I have definitely read them before following- If you choose not to trust me on this, I understand.

• I generally follow every rp blog that follows me, but I might not follow some people back for a few reasons. Some might be for the type of content you post on your blog. I will interact with most people (unless you wanna rp gross things or you’re a mean person,,,, like your muse can be as much of a dick as you want, that’s no problem but don’t be gross to other people as yourself) and if I do roleplay with you, I will be more likely to follow you as well.

• Adding onto the above rule, however, please respect that it’s nothing personal if I ever unfollow you either! It’s not that I hate you or anything, but if you haven’t followed me back and you’re a private rp blog, or if we’re mutuals but never really roleplay, our muses just don’t click, you spam stuff that I don’t want to see on my dash, or you’ve become inactive for years and/or don’t interact with me anymore, there’s nothing wrong with that! We can still be friends but I prefer to have all the people I follow be potential rp partners. Feel free to follow me on my personal, @briightskies if you still wanna keep in touch but not rp :’)

—

–ABOUT THIS BLOG–

• This blog is OC and crossover friendly! I love OCs and have many of my own tbh, you’re all more than welcome to come interact with me!!

• This blog is semi-selective with blog post interactions. I’ll mostly just interact with people I’m following, but I’m definitely open to interacting with other rp blogs too. Regarding f2f interactions, I am non-selective!

• I’ll also interact with fandoms I’m not into either, as long as you have a good about section for your character, which also indicates how you portray them (any headcanons or AUs you have that aren’t canon, or whether you portray them as canonly as possible, unless they’re OCs of course since a regular about page is a given) and I’ll probably look up other things about that fandom in its wiki if I don’t know what something is anyway.

• I really shouldn’t have to say this, but I feel like I’ll need to anyway. I will not be shipping with this muse! They’re not in the best mental space for relationships at the moment, and they are also Too Young to be dealing with anything more than small crushes at kids their age.

• This blog might contain triggering content. I will tag common triggers and such, but don’t be afraid to tell me if you have something you want me to tag! I promise I’ll remember to tag it from then on. I do not have any known triggers myself. Any trigger warning tags will be written as “tw; ____” with a semi-colon, not a colon. If I feel like something should be tagged as a trigger but I’m not sure what to tag it exactly, I’ll just tag it as “tw” as a sort of catch-all tag.

     Requested tagged triggers:

 none at the moment

• I will only talk through the IM system ooc. If you send me a message through there, I will not respond with ooc brackets ((these things)) because I will automatically assume you know that you’re talking to the mun. I do not do roleplays or ic interactions on there.

-

Thank you for reading this really long list of rules! It means a lot if you did!

There’s no password, because I’m also anxious with those for other people’s blogs as I said above. But if you would like to interact with me, you can shoot me an ask directed to my muse, or @ them or something!

[xphenxmenalx]

Guidelines

General Bits and Pieces

Heres a warning before you roleplay with me! Not following these rules can and will lead to me unfollowing you. These are rules for a reason meaning they are to be followed as such. Don’t like my rules? Don’t like something I say? Delete me! Your negative comments has no affect here, only consequence. Plenty of other roleplayers, you can follow and roleplay with instead..It’s all about fun! we’re all here to have fun, so let’s make the most of it. I don’t like to be miserable and I would never purposely make anyone else upset or miserable either. so let’s have fun.

Interacting

I will never ignore you! If you send me a message and I don’t reply? It’s mostly because Tumblr is being a douchebag and ate it. If we have a thread and I haven’t replied to it? Please message me because more than likely, didn't see the reply, got distracted and forgot it or I lost it. If you decided you want to drop something between our characters, for whatever reason, please let me know, don’t just disappear and/or ignore me because I will assume the worst, so yeah please tell me. I won’t get upset, I will respect your reasoning behind it, and I’d like to know rather than being left hanging.

No Out Of Character Drama! No God-Modding!

Important! I absolutely can’t stand drama, it absolutely makes me sick, so keep your drama away from me. Besides I will not tolerate any ooc drama whatsoever. I come on here to have fun and roleplay and meet new people, I’m not here for all of the petty drama that comes along with rping sometimes. I don’t care to start drama, but if you start drama with me, then I promise its going to start a war with me. I can’t stand immature roleplayers, cry babies, or attention whores meaning I really can’t stand immature people acting like cry babies to get attention. Oh I do have a short temper and when I explode its never pretty. I will go off majorly and sound like a bitch only cause you deserve it for actually being a dick and starting drama instead talking your issues you have with me, in private with me. HOWEVER, this doesn't mean in character drama isn't allowed, in character drama is definitely allowed.

This is roleplaying essentials! Unless I’ve given you permission, I don’t want you to use my character and do things with them that I haven’t said okay to. Which means you need to understand that I am the one in control of them, not you so just don't try to control my muses and do not kill any of them. God-mod is never okay to do so please don’t do it here.

Relationships & Shipping

This blog Is Multiship/Multiverse! This means that they will have more than one relationship/plot going at a time. This does not mean any of them are cheating on anyone, unless we discussed it before hand. If you’re unsure of what this entirely consists of, please, google it before trying to get into it. I just want to make sure you’re informed. Don't force a ship down my or my muse's throat! That's absolutely not cool and fucking rude, so just don't do it. If you force a ship upon my muse and me, I will not be accountable for my muses actions towards your muse or you. However I will not allow them to kill yours, just let them be a dick towards yours and possibly allow them to hit yours. It will invertedly lead to you being blocked, I will not apologize because you are the one who broke the rules. I ship based on chemistry. Don't assume we are shipping without talking to me. Just because my muse kissed or had sex or flirted with yours doesn't mean we are in a serious ship.

My Muses Sexuality.

Alexa ➳ Straight

AJ ➳ Bisexual

April ➳ Straight

Jon ➳ Bisexual

My Muses Main Verse Relationship.

Alexa ➳ Single

AJ ➳ Single

April ➳ Single

Jon ➳ Single

Their relationship upon interaction unless plotted out is SINGLE which means they are currently unattached. That means Alexa is not engaged to Murphy, AJ is not married to Wendy, AJ is not married to Punk, and Dean is not married to Renee.

My Opts Who I Will Instantly Be Oki With Shipping With:

Alexa & Baron

Alexa & Allen

Alexa & Dean

Alexa & Randy

Allen & Dean

Allen & Alexa

Allen & April

Allen & Baron

April & Dean

April & Allen

April & Punk

April & Randy

Dean & Allen

Dean & April

Dean & Alexa

Dean & Punk

Dean & Randy

Dean & Baron

My Hell No Opts Who I Will Not Be Oki With Shipping With:

Alexa & Murphy

Alexa & Blake

Alexa & Sami

Allen & Charlotte

Allen & Natayla

Allen & JoJo

Allen & Renee

April  & Dolph

April & Daniel

April & Sami

Dean & Renee

Dean & JoJo

Dean & Charlotte

Dean & Natayla

Just because your muse isn't on the list, doesn't mean I wouldn't be okay with shipping our muses, you can always go ahead and ask me or tell me if you wanna ship just don't force a ship on me or my muses, for there to be chemistry between them first before a ship happens. Just remember I hold the right to turn you down for a ship I don't feel comfortable with.

If your muse falls on the hell no opt list and you want to ship then please talk to me and we can see if something can be arranged but remember I do have the right to turn you down. If it does happen, I will possibly only allow ONE ship of it, not multiples because I want to be comfortable on my blog. Tho same thing goes there has to be chemistry between them first.

I Write Smut But You Must Be Of A Certain Age To Write Smut With Me!

Yes, I do write smut paras and posts, yes sometimes I'll post smutty pictures. However I will not place them under read more tags, just because I shouldn’t have to. I'm sorry but if you have a problem with this then just don’t read my posts, its that simple. I will always try my best to make sure I tag them NSFW, no promises tho cause shit happens and I may forget.

You need to be 18+ in order to write smut with me, why? Because I'm in my twentys, which makes me a legal adult and I’m not going to jail if your mom or whoever is legal guardian of you finds our paras. It will fade to black before it even heads in that direction if you are younger than 18. Also if you are legal age and uncomfortable with writing smut then we can make it fade to black, I have no problem with that.

Smut however may be a rare thing that happens even if I have a sex driven muse, the mun is very shy and unexperienced in that area. I will however try my best but if it sucks then I am sorry, I just don't want to make promises or forbid it at all so I'm just gonna keep it at a rare thing because it can happen if threads lead in that direction or if a meme is sent or received.

Quick Facts & Rules

Make sure you read all G u i d e l i n e s and I n f o r m a t i o n accordingly before you interact with any of my muses

I am not exclusive but I am extremely selective and semi private so I reserve the right to deny any interaction between our muses. However that happening is rare since I am usually very open to roleplaying with anyone unless I have reasons of not wanting to roleplay with someone.

If I post a meme please don't be scared to send one in, even if we haven't interacted yet or if we already have other threads. I don't care if we have to skip ahead or a bit behind in the timeline, lets just build the story of our muses. I reblog them so we can interact and build a story. If you don't send one in occuasionally then reblog from the source and not me.

 If you send a meme in then please specify which muse you want! If you don’t then its either gonna get deleted or randomize. I get it that you may not care who you get but have the common courtesy to say ANYONE so I know its definitely oki just to throw a random muse at you and that you'll be oki with it.

If we are mutual following each other then please try to interact with me and I'll do the same with you, I may be a bit shy but the effort of trying to make it work is so much better than feeling invisible and horrible. 

If I post a starter call, please only like it if you plan on answering. I rather not waste my time typing up a starter for someone who doesn't even answer it. If it doesn't work for you then please tell me and I can try to fix it to where it will work for both of us. Also if you possibly like it to notify me that you received it and tumblr isn't being a dick, or I'm gonna possibly have a panic attack over worrying about if you got it or not.

I'm sorry but if you break any of my muses to where they are no longer happy outside of threads then I will literally go off on you. I don't mean to be a bitch but it has happened before to the point I almost lost a muse and I don't need to lose any of my muses. Try to understand it doesn't just affect my muse but it affects me too. This is my escape from everything I have to go through in real and when roleplaying starts hurting me too then something is in major need of changing.

Now I need to point out one thing, I aint exclusive means my muses will play with other muses of the same muse and possibly ship with them. But that doesn't mean you will be replaced or I like them better. No one thread will be exactly the same as others and I don't want to restrict my muses to having to miss out on others incredible writing and muses. I LOVE YOU no less. just remember that.

If I reply to certain threads faster than yours, its nothing personal its just sometimes I only have muse for certain threads. I promise I'll reply to our thread when I have muse for it til then it will be sitting in my drafts, unless I lost it or eventually ended up dropping it cause I had no muse for it. I'll mostly likely drop you a message saying sorry about dropping it so you know I did. I may ask if you received my reply or replied to our thread to see if it was lost. However it may be awhile before I ask that because its sorta hard for me to ask since I worry about annoying you, so either I'll just assume its in your drafts or the worst it was lost.

In order for me to even consider following you, you need to CUT YOUR DAMN POSTS, honestly this is my biggest pet peeve and I really don't want my dash to be a clutter fuck. If you’re entirely unsure of how to do so, please google it, I don't want to be rude I just want to make sure you’re informed. Honestly I know how hard it can be when you are on mobile but its not impossible, tumblr gives you an option to delete old replies. If you can then you can either have someone help you or start a new post after like 2 long replies or 6 short replies between both partner

If you want to turn an ask into a thread then go for it, all I ask of you is you move it to a new post. DO NOT REBLOG IT FROM THE ASK. I will not follow you if you do that shit, it clutter fucks shit also and its fucking annoying to see.

I don't care how many threads we have but do try to be a bit understanding, I'm not supergirl. My muses and I can only handle so much before we gets to the point everything is too much to handle. Which means replies may take a while to be answered and posted, hell some may be answered and place in queue that following night so I can keep up. I may start to limit the amount of threads each muse can have with a certain muse to about 2-5 depending on the length of them that gets posted straight away then the rest shall go into queue. I'm sorry but  I don't need my muses or myself to feel like we're drowning in replies and get stressed about not being able to keep up and get everything posted in a reasonable manner. This is supposed to be fun since this is a hobby, not a job.

If you tag me in a starter then please make sure my muses and I can understand it. If its too confusing for my muse to figure out how to reply to it and I can’t help them then its going to be in my drafts for awhile til it gets deleted. I’ll feel like shit about it cause it isn’t because I don’t want to roleplay with you, its just my muse doesn’t know how to answer and I can’t help them. Its not fair to my muses if I make them do something they are completely confused about and don’t even know how to answer.

Alright I’m sorry but this has to be said because right now I just can’t stress it enough. I’m a multimuse blog, which means that means this blog contains more than one muse on it and you know what, you may not see them all being active because a certain one may become popular. I don’t know why that happens but it does and I appreciate the love you are giving to that muse but it is unfair to the rest of my muses. They deserve a chance, not just one damn muse. I get it you have favorites but honestly its not fair that you don't even take a chance on the others, since you may never know what could happen there. Plus I don't need any of my muses feeling left out or unwanted because you decided to play favorites, it makes them want to disappear and I honestly don't want to lose any of my muses so please try to give them all a fair chance, not just one specific muse of mine. If you are unsure where you can find out what all muses I have then here let me inform you real quickly. I have a page that lists all my muses which you can find under the word my muses which is right next to the words Read First! You can click the link to the page underneath the gif at the top of my guidelines page or you know it states my muses faceclaims at the bottom of the guidelines page, it actually gives a list of everyone I have a couple of times through my rules so there is no way you could miss it if you are actually reading my guidelines.

Mun Notes

I have anxiety, depression, bipolar, mood disorders, and phobias. I'm sorry I can't control how fucked up I am but you are gonna have to bare with me. If I disappear without warning, its because my depression has hit an all time high and tumblr isn't helping me any. I always return tho and do my best to get all replies I owe done, even if it takes me forever. They will come I promise, unless I have dropped or lost a thread; in that case I will let you know.

I have a personal life and that will always come first, which unfortunately means that there will be times where I may not being able to get on and there may be times that I am online but to distracted to be paying attention to my laptop. There will be times when replies are fast as fuck and there will be times where replies are so as fuck but either way I will do my best to reply to you.

I will never ever send anyone any hate messages since that is very immature, I only send adorable messages to try to make one smile but its very seldom that I send anything because I am a bundle of nerves and shy as fuck haha.

I am a sweetheart til I'm pissed off, in which I must warn you that I have a short temper. Unfortunately you can say I truly am a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

Please don't assume shit, I hate that shit so much. I had that happen to me more than once and it hurts like hell. Especially when I am accused of something I didn't do, plus it is highly rude to assume shit without proof.

All Icons have been made by me, unless stated otherwise. Don't steal or use them without asking me first. It was hard work that took forever to do, I spent alot of time on them with the lil resource to make them. I do not own any of the gifs I use, unless I have stated otherwise.

I play my muses the way I want to play them, not how the show plays them, not how the actor plays them, not how others want me to play them. I shouldn't have to since I play them for me, and only for me. I play them so I can have an outlet away from stress, not to gain stress from the pressures of following canon perfectly. I will never follow canon and I'm proud of that, however if you have a problem with how I portray my muses then please go somewhere else.

I do not claim to be any of the muses I protray nor will I ever!

URLS

These are the urls I'm tracking.

Main ➳ xPhenxmenalx

AJ ➳ P1Stylez

Alexa ➳ lilxmissxbliss

April ➳ lxvebitesx

Jon ➳ xlunaticxfringex

[carina-debayle]

Understanding Human Nature

Log Date: 2/26/17

OOC Note: The text in these logs are strictly for the readers enjoyment. Anyone using the knowledge displayed within this text without the participants knowledge risks the potential of blacklisting from future communication and roleplay. Please do not meta-game!

The art was drawn by myself.

Tags: @halone-from-the-otherside

I had been stopped in Caroline Canopy while waiting for Hestia to be finished with her class, picking up some juice for us and a pastry fish for myself. It was a blonde woman, with harsh sunburns over her face. And interesting woman, she had come to me in search of someone from my old company. I fear there was little I could provide for such. In time, Armont eventually joined me, it wasn’t ever day he was able to be here with me to pick Hestia up, but his patrol was slow that day and he happened to be in the city. Once saying our goodbyes, we made way for Acorn Orchards, Hestia and my own’s juice in hand. Upon arrival, we were met with a sight I knew wouldn’t end pretty...

Standing in the courtyard, Hestia was attempting to shove another younger Elezen boy around as the child kept her little sailor hat from her above his head, "Maybe if you were taller like normal Elezen, you could take it back from me!" he laughed out.

Pressing a rough hand to his face, the girl cried out angrily, "give it back to me!" she yelled, pushing some more until the boy shoved her down onto the grass and leaned over and started tugging at her ears. "Are you sure these things are even real, they look too big on you!"

Walking into the courtyard with her husband, Carina held the two juices in her hands before spotting the scene in front of her, her face going pale, "oh... no..." her brow immediately furrowed angrily, looking around for a teacher of watcher of some sort.

Armont De'bayle's brows raised up as he looked at the scene before swiftly walking up next to his daughter. Looking to the other child whom was holding her hat and over top of her, Armont glared down at him. "Why do you have my daughters hat?" He asked out calmly, though his facial expression was on on the grim spectrum. "Does that hat belong to you?"

Looking up at the towering Elezen man, the little boy was visibly startled as he held the hat close to him, stanidng up off of her and eventually tossing it onto Hestia. "N-No sir!" he remarks out shakingly, "I... I had just picked it up..." he lies out, clearly very afraid.

Sniffling out some more, Hestia snatched up her hat and tugged it back onto her head messily, "you're a big fat meany fart Blaise! I hate you!" she sticks her tongue out at the boy, before wandering over to hide behind her father's leg.

Armont De'bayle gritted his teeth as he looked down to the child. Taking the hat from Hestia's head, he would take a knee infront of him. "I apologize, it looked like you did not hand this to my daughter. Would you enjoy trying it once more?" His eyes narrowed at Blaise. "There is no reason to pick on anyone who is different than you, regardless to what others may say." he took in a deep breath, looking back to Carina, though in his mind he was fighting the urge to heavily scold the child as he would have been Ishgard. "You should apologize for conducting yourself this way to her, she may help you a great deal in the future. You would not want her thinking ill of you, would you?"

Face dropping, the boy looked as though he were about to burst into tears as he took the hat back shakily, handing it out over to Hestia, "I...I'm sorry... Hestia..." he whispered out with a sniffle, the girl marching over to take it back, "I'm still mad at you! You're always mean to me, I don't like you!" she says out with a scoff, the little boy motioning his hands out defensively, "no...no please I just..." he brought his hands to his hair dramatically, crying out, "I'm sorry Hestia! I was just playing around! I like you, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings!" he said out pathetically.

Carina can't help but slightly smirk to herself. Despite being displeased with how the little boy handled himself to her daughter, she wasn't entirely surprised of his other motives. Still... she hoped this would prove to be a valuable lesson.

Armont De'bayle sighed out as he shook his head. "Hestia. Apologize for saying harsh words to him. It is better to have a strong resolve to an issue than pushing it further. I know he has upset you, but there are still chances you two could be great friends." He looked over to the boy, nodding. "Though that will be an effort both of you will have to take and commit to."

Huffing out with a pout, Hestia crossed her arms sternly, glaring at the crying boy. "Stop crying Blaise! You are mean to people and now you are crying because you got in trouble!"

The little boy looks positively destroyed, some snort rolling down his lip, "p-p-please H-Hestia... I'm sorry... I'm sorry for always being mean... I was being a big stupid fart like you said! You just... always fight back..." he sniffs, drawing the little girl's attention.

Sighing some, Hestia frowned before lowering her arms, "mmm... because Mommy said not to let people treat me bad! I won't play with you at all if you keep being mean," the Elezen boy shook his head multiple times, "I won't do it again! I promise, I pinky promise!" Grunting out of her nose, the little girl put her hands to her hips, "I am sorry then too... for calling you a big fat meany fart. And for slapping you."

Standing to his feet, Armont would look down at the two, smiling now. "I am sure if you both mean that, tomorrow should be a rather fun day for you both." He chuckled, his hand moving down to scratch at his daughter's head. "I look forward to seeing you again in the days to come Blaise. Do not disappoint me."

The little boy rubbed a sleeve to his snotty nose, some tears dripping off his face, "y-yes sir... I promise I won't..." he looks to Hestia, standing up and bending his head pathetically.

Sighing out, Hestia walked over and gave the boy a small hug, patting his back, "no more crying Blaise, you like to be a tough boy. It doesn't look good!" she says out with as small smile, trying to comfort the boy. "I need to go home now, but maybe if you want to... you can come play some time."

Looking to Hestia, Blaise nodded some, "if... if your Daddy won't kill me..." he whispers out to her.

Armont De'bayle smirked as he was able to pick up on the child's voice. "Aye, I will not lay a finger on you." He replied, glancing back with his patched eye at the child. "You are more than welcome to come over and play if Hestia wishes you to. We are in the apartments. Sixteen."

Nodding some, he would stand backing up, "I... I'm also sorry Hestia, for almost tearing your Tonberrys arm off that one time... he was pretty cool," he remarked out embarrassingly, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck.

Smiling, Hestia offered the boy a thumbs up, "then when you come over, you can play with Tomtom. I am sure he will forgive you. Have a good day!" she says out, running over to where her mother was.

Carina Roussos smiles, "I'm proud of you Hestia, for handling yourself well... even if you were a bit on the harsher side," the woman laughs, handing her daughter her juice. "Let's get going home."

Armont De'bayle smiled as he gave a small wave to the boy as Hestia grouped back up with the two. Looking down to her, Armont smirked. "If you ever need me to come and help you, do not be afraid to ask. I am but moments from your side as always, my little lancer."

"I know Papa! I was okay, he was just being rough. You are rough with Mommy too you know!" Hestia points an accusing finger, "don't think I forgot!"

Armont De'bayle froze up as he looked to his daughter, then Carina, and then anyone around whom he prayed did not hear what she said. "Hestia... I am not rough with mommy." He whispered out painfully, trying to shoo his daughter along.

Hestia De'bayle protested, "Yes you are! I saw you, you-"

Wasting little time to bring a hand down and cover the girls mouth, Carina gave her a stern look, "your Papa isn't too rough with me dear... we were simply playing around. Like in our spars. But we couldn't go out in the middle of the night you know..."

"Aye, twas but a spar." Armont mumbled out, not daring to go further or explain exactly why they were sparring in the first place. All in all it would end with an awkward explanation that would likely not make sense to her. "Other than this little incident, how was school today?"

Considering her parents words, Hestia was clearly confused but her attention was rather quickly drawn away by the question at hand, "it was good! I climbed on top of that!" she points over to the tall play equipment, clapping some. "Everyone thought it was cool! Even Blaise. We were playing until he decided to be mean."

Carina Roussos opens her mouth some in some awe for her daughters entertainment, "Wow, very impressive Hestia. Be sure to be careful when doing that, you don't want to fall and hurt yourself."

Armont De'bayle smirked as he poked the girl's nose playfully. "You have our sense of adventure, that is for certain." He said, placing his hand on Carina's side happily in the moment. "Imagine the areas that you can climb when you are older. There are vast mountains and summits for you to venture to, even floating islands."

"Floating islands!?" Hestia gawked out, grabbing at her hat in disbelief. "That's amazing! I want to see them!"

"I figured you would say that." Armont gawked back to her. "Then it would seem we will have to set out to see it one of these weekends."

"Yay! We get to see floating islands!" Hestia cheers out, hopping around happily.

Carina laughs some, "Miss Shi and Mommy went there recently. It's called 'The Sea of Clouds'. There is quite a lot of animal life! I think you would love it Hestia."

Armont De'bayle nods, "It is one of the territories that Ishgard defends. There are many Knights there stationed in a place called Camp Cloudtop. I will have to educate you on why there are forces stationed there too."

"Ooomm..." Hestia murmurs out, rubbing her hands together as she very obviously didn't understand what that meant, but made an attempt to seem as not disinterested in that as possible.

"Well, I am glad you had a good day today Hestia... let's get going home. You need to take a bath and get ready for dinner!" Carina motioned out for them to move.

"Yes Mommy." Hestia responded obediently.

Armont De'bayle looked up to Carina with a grin as he felt her confusion vocally. "Aye. Do it with a smile and I will make sure to bring you more cocoa powder from Ishgard."

Carina sighs out some, rubbing her fingers to her temples.

Armont De'bayle: "What?"

"Oh Armont," Carina sighs, laughing, "nothing! Nothing..." she smiles.

Armont De'bayle mumbled. "I can spoil her every so often..."

"You're right, she is typically pretty good with sugary drinks. Minus that one time she drank the entirety of all the cocoa in one night!" Carina stares down at her daughter with a raised brow.

"It won't happen again! Promise!" Hestia wiggles a pinky finger up assuringly.

"And no eating it either! It's not good for your belly to eat it as a powder." Carina huffed.

Armont De'bayle laughed. It reminded him of his youth with Denz and Guillemont with their mother. "If you don't drink it all in one night, you can have it more often." He kneeled down a bit to whisper in her ear. "But I fully understand. Hot Cocoa is fantastic."

"It's just so yummy Papa!" Hestia whispers back to him, sighing.

Rolling her eyes some, Carina was hardly ignorant... nor deaf. "Come come, you can have a bit for dessert tonight."

"C-Can I have some too?" Armont asks softly with a laugh.

"Yes of  course you can dear," Carina laughs out as well.

I was quite proud of Hestia, seemed she would be strong enough to handle her demons on her own. Something only a mother could dream of... though the demons of a small child, are often but small insects to that of the roaring monsters of adulthood. I only hope these trials will prepare her for those days.

[bizarrojay-irl]

i’m not insecure screw you ):< i’m also not lame either

see, I know what I’m talking about

Your weird.

- @hanna-oc-irl

*you’re

and I think i’m a little more than just ‘weird’

[nymphl]

Lie to Me – Hux x Reader - Ch. 2: Lies & Truths

A/N: Hello! Sadly, I couldn’t come up with chapter 20 of Lie to Me, as I am very busy at work this week we are moving out, Gods don’t wish that even for the worst of enemies and when I got home, I couldn’t only think about sleeping. But I decided to come here and update chapter 2 of Lie to Me - Lies & Truths. It’s not the same thing and I know you’re waiting for Reader’s answers for Hux’s question “Will you rule with me?”, but I really couldn’t update. Sorry! xD Anyways, I hope you like it xD I promise, I’ll be able to update next week. You can hold me to that! Also, my thanks to everyone who left a kudo and reblogged the 1st chapter! Love you all <3 If you want to be tagged, let me know! 

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations.

Wordcount: 3509

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT CHAPTER

FOR A MOMENT, NEITHER OF YOU SPOKE. HIS SILENCE MADE YOU EVEN MORE APPREHENSIVE. It was obvious he recalled at least a bit of his life — he did recall his father and the First Order — to have some doubts about being married to you would not be that much of a surprise, would it?

Slowly, his hand withdrew from your face and you inhaled sharply, as if expecting him to deny everything you said. Thankfully, he did not seem force sensitive — if you could go by the information on the datapad, he seemed quite averse to it; relying on the military prowess —, for if he were, he would know you were lying. If he did not know already.

“You should sleep,” you said once again, this time hoping he would follow your advice. “We can talk tomorrow, my…” Love… you would say. At some point, you would have to say it if he were to believe the two of you were indeed married and that was not just some made up story you came up with.

The very thought of using such endearment to him — a stranger, a murderer, your enemy none the less, made you feel nauseated; when you had only used that to your late husband —, so you decided to use what came first to your mind. Lord… That would do. In most unions in Dantooine, the husband owned the wife, so you figured out he would not find it odd if you decided to call him by such title.     

“Rest now, my Lord…” you finished.

When his blue eyes did not leave you, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to control your urge to scream.

“I promise we will have a long conversation tomorrow.”

His eyes closed this time, but the blank expression on his face did not make you feel any more reassured. On the contrary, you expected him to wake up in the middle of the night and kill you for your lies — half-truths, you corrected yourself. If — and again there were so many ifs in this entire situation — the datapad was anything to go by, there was indeed someone inside the First Order trying to get rid of him, so when you said they attacked him, it could very well be the truth.

“Did the First Order choose you?”

Kriffing hell!

What were you supposed to answer to that?

You decided, for a change, to go with the truth.

“No.”

You wetted your lips and stared at his face. He still had his eyes closed, as if in deep thought.

“Should they?” This time, you were genuinely curious. “Does the First Order always choose with whom their assets should get married?”

He opened his eyes, staring intensely at you. He did not have enough time to try to raise his chest from the bed; you placed your hand on his firm skin, pressing him down.

A hiss escaped his lips as you made contact with his still unhealed wound.

“You never… Never spoke much about the First Order…”

You only hoped he did not catch the trembling in your voice. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep that lie — and you had only started it.

Get a grip of yourself, (Y/N)!

“I see…” he mumbled to himself and you took the opportunity to bring the blanket to cover his nude chest.

“Now, you really should rest, my Lord.”

Your anxiety skyrocketed when you left the bedroom, put the utensils in the sink and let your trembling legs slither to the floor. The lights flickered in and out again, till everything went black. Senses once more sharpened, you could hear his breathing as he apparently slept in the chamber beside the kitchen.

Your house was small, and the rooms were all close together. There was no luxury and the few furniture you still had — most of it you took to the Hospital; there were people who needed them more than you did — were old and worn out. Not very fit to welcome a General of the First Order.

The very thought made you smile.

It was all so ridiculous.

You should’ve killed him…

This thought did not leave your mind. And even if the idea of murdering someone in cold blood repulsed you, you knew it was probably the right thing to do. How many more lives would he take if he recovered his lost memories? And you bet he would recover them sooner than you expected.

What was one life close to millions? Billions, even.

Tired, you closed your own eyes and rested your head against the pillar of the sink. You did not expect sleep to find you so soon.

You woke up the next morning with the sound a hiss and something crashing on the ground — a glass, perhaps? or so you thought. With blurred eyes and confused about your whereabouts — it was not usual for you to wake up on the floor — you walked to the bedroom, only to find your… husband — the word brought a bitter taste to your lips — trying to get up from the bed.

The need to roll your eyes was huge, but you schooled your features and opened your mouth to ask what he thought he was doing, however, you were interrupted by him and an aggravating question, “Where did you sleep?”

You opened your mouth twice to explain, but the words failed you. If you were married, it was expected that you slept on the same bed. However, due to his condition, it was obvious you were not to share such a small mattress with him, unless you both hoped to worsen his already fragile condition.

Of course, he did not buy your explanation and simply dismissed it with his hand as he sat on the bed. His arms shook with the exertion. You forgot the quarrel — could it be called as such? It was obvious he did not like what you said — and rushed to his side, aiding him to rise.

“I need a bath,” he said, and you could not help but notice his voice sounded much clearer than the night before.

You nodded. No one could say you did not agree with him. In this past month you had cleaned him with wet tissues, but he weighed more than he looked, and you were afraid of opening his wounds if you moved him too much.

With no help whatsoever — no one in the village knew he was your guest; you feared their reaction to the news that would come sooner or later —, you had to improvise.

It did not mean he stank, but he did not sport the most pleasant of scents either. He seemed repulsed by his appearance in general and bothered with how he smelled — if how he scrunched his nose was of any indication, it is.

With a barely concealed smile, you placed his arm on your shoulders and guided him to the armchair in which you usually slept. The flimsy blanket and pillow were still tossed carelessly, with you having no time whatsoever to rearrange anything before the abrupt wake up call.  

“This is where you have been sleeping.” It was no question. His arms were on the armrests, his eyes watching every part of the small house with rapt attention.

You usually did not bother yourself with how your house looked — you spent very little time in it anyways and there were more people out there who did not have half of what you owned, however little it was — but his scrutiny made you feel slightly uncomfortable.

Remembering he had asked you a question or something close to it, you replied on your way to the refresher, “Not tonight, my lord.”

There was silence while you drew the bath. It did not matter how poor the entire planet was after so many conflicts and Wars, it still did have much water — you had heard of invaded planets who had Factions controlling the water and distributing it as if Kyber Crystal — and no matter how much poor your house was, the fresher was conveniently furnished. You once had a sonic shower, but you saw fit to give it to the Hospital where it would be put to better use. You always dreamed of having a sonic bath, but you never managed to get one. It would be handy now, if you had one. Your husband would have to be contented with a bath and, when he could stand on his legs by himself, the shower.   

When you felt the water was warm enough to relax his sore muscles, but not too hot to burn his skin, you walked back to the bedroom and found him assessing his injuries.

It did not take him long to focus those impossibly blue eyes on you.

“How long have we been married?”

Kriffs!

That you were not expecting.

You opened your mouth, but all reasoning seemed to have left you. And here you were worried the General would complain about the lack of a sonic shower and bath in the fresher.

His voice surprised you yet again and the reasoning contained in his words left your mouth hanging open.  

“By my counts, we couldn’t have been together for more than measly three years.”

“Three and half, my lord,�� you replied, looking at the floor.

Considering both of your ages and how long you were widowed, it seemed a fair reasoning. You just had to remind yourself of such assertion in case he ever asked again or anyone around you did.

“And that’s the state of this…” His eyes left you and roamed the surroundings. You felt your face warming up with embarrassment. Truth be told, you knew how to repair most of what needed to be repaired, but you did not have time nor energy to do so. “…of our house?”

You did not know what to make out of his words. Was he ashamed because it usually fell on the husband’s shoulder to take care of the house or because he had to live — temporarily, you added that as it would make you less guilty — in such uninhabitable place?

He tried to get to his feet again and this time he roughly managed to, his arms placed against the wall, holding most of his weight.

“Let me help you, my Lord.” With one of his arms around your shoulders, you sustained him. He was a tall man, you noticed it now. Even leaning on you, he still towered. You wondered how taller he would look when he could stand up by himself. “You are still bedsore, my Lord. I believe you will be able to walk by yourself by the end of the week.”

“Unacceptable.”

His answer caught you off guard and made you furrow your brows.

“Two days at most.”

You did not comment that after receiving injuries such as his, it would be almost impossible for him to be around and about in only two days and instead concentrated on helping him to enter the refresher.

It was the next action that caused you to stop on your tracks. You swallowed. His trousers would have to be removed at some point and there was no else around to help you. Or help him.

You drew in a sharp breath and moved your hands to his trousers, only to have them gently pushed away.

Oh, thank the maker!

Without looking at him; your eyes conveniently stationed at his shoulders, you helped him enter the bathtub and turned your back on him immediately, part of you screaming that you would not go far on that lie if you refused to look at him in the eye — or naked. The other half only guaranteed it was the right thing to do. He was a stranger — and even if he were your husband, without his memories, he was basically a stranger — and as such you should preserve his privacy, even from yourself.

Yes.

That made sense.

“Where are you going?”

Errr…

He was not supposed to ask that.

“Make breakfast?” You bit your bottom lip and asked — hoping, praying, whatever, for a negative answer, “Do you…” You told yourself to breathe. “Do you need help, my Lord?”

His lack of answer was answer enough.

What a relief.

You let yourself exhale slowly and squared your shoulders to exit the fresher. You did not go that far, however. His voice sounded loud and clear in your ears.

“I do expect you to return to our bed tonight.”

The reply was automatic. Without him staring at you with those icy blue eyes, it was easier to voice your opinions and disagreements.

“It would only worsen your condition.”

Noticing that perhaps it came out a bit harsher, you added “my Lord”, something that would become customary in the future.  

He took a while to respond, and it was all that took for you to leave the fresher. His voice, however, caught you in your way to the kitchen.

“I have survived worse.”  

You were not surprised to find out he could, indeed, stand on his legs in two days — even if it was with the help of an improvised cane, he was walking around and about. If anything, it only made you realize that your enemy was a powerful and dangerous man; that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

The two of you were currently in the kitchen, sharing a meal in silence — you would not come to label it as comfortable, but it was not awkward either. Your eyes were cast down and his were focused on your face.

He chewed the food slowly, taking his time. Now you knew he was not scrunching his nose at the smell. At one point everyone gets used to Kibla Green.

Carefully, you raised your eyes from your bowl and ran them over his frame. He almost made you choke when you realized he caught you staring.

Face scorching hot, you shifted your attention back to your food.

Last night had him querying you about his clothes. They were absolutely not his style. Not to mention they did quite not fit him.

He was slimmer than your husband — the only and one — and taller. As a result, most of the clothing was simply not his match. Too large and too small at the same time.

Not that hungry anymore, you just toyed with the food in your bowl, not very keen on finishing it. A billion of thoughts ran through your head, all of them aggravating. The worse, however, was that nasty, nagging feeling that he knew somehow.

His questions only added to this sensation and darkened your mood. He would question just about everything. You were almost pointing out that he was paranoid — not that he did not have reasons to be. You knew that one did not reach the position of General of the First Order by trusting everyone. However, you thought that given his current state, you should be the one he would trust the most.

It was just infuriating that he didn’t!

You bit the inside of your cheek. You had to come up with some idea to make this situation a bit better. To make him believe you.

Noticing that he had finished and that you yourself could not eat anymore, you picked both of your bowls and placed them in the sink. You returned to the table, ready to retrieve the rest of the utensils when he wrapped his hand around your wrist.

Startled, you raised your eyes to his — even with him sitting down and you standing up, you could not say you towered over him — just to find his blue orbs closed.

His shudder was not missed by you, and you lost no time to ask if he was in pain.

“I’ll just clean up this mess and I’ll get a look at your wounds.”

He remained silent; his eyes trained on your lips as you spoke. The hand wrapped around your wrist caressed the inside of your pulse, making your blood pump faster.

You tugged your arm lightly, asking silently for him to let go.

He didn’t.

“My Lord…”

As if he finally heard you, he stood up. Hand still wrapped around your wrist, he pulled you closer. Much closer than proper, much closer than you felt comfortable with.

You tried to calm down your heartbeats and reminded yourself he thought he was your husband.

It all gone to waste when he lifted your chin; his right hand on the small of your back, tracing it with small strokes.

You shuddered.

He bowed his head and closed the gap between you.

Kriffs!

You closed your eyes.

His breath caressed your face.

You heart was on the verge of escaping your mouth.

Another shudder.

You could almost feel his lips on yours.

His tips held your chin firmly in place, but not enough to bruise. He was almost… gentle.

Your heart beat faster now.

His lips were almost grazing yours.

Even closer now…

His lips skimmed your cheek and later your chin.

Your chest heaved.

When you finally could not take it anymore, you mumbled.

“Please…”

You did not know what you were begging for. Was it for him to kiss you at once or for him to break apart?

He seemed to take it for the second and stepped away.

You shuddered again when his warmth was no longer engulfing you.

Slowly, you opened your eyes only to find him staring back at you; an unreadable expression on his bluish orbs.

“Don’t we have a protocol droid?”

He traced your lips with the tip of his finger.

You gasped.

And totally forgot his question.

He leisurely smoothed his index finger on your bottom lip. You felt your mouth growing dry and subconsciously tried to wet it. Only to have your tongue caressing his skin.

This time, both of you shuddered.

Eyes widened, you broke apart and put some distance between your bodies. He straightened his back and looked at you, as if expecting your answer.

Furrowing your brows, you wondered what he did ask in the first place.

“The droid,” he offered, eyes once again focused on you.

The protocol droid. Right!

“We did have one,” you said, trying to control your breath. Once again, you decided to go for the truth. Or the half-truth. “But I decided give it to the hospital. They would put it to a better use.”

“I see,” he replied, both of his hands crossed behind his back.

In this position, he seemed very almighty. In fact, he looked like the very general you had seen in the datapad.

A minute or two passed in silence and you found yourself unable to control your nerves and get it done with the utensils.

He had almost kissed you.

And you stood there and let him.

Almost, you reminded yourself.

But it should not get this far. Not this soon, at least.

Not ever, part of you thought. The other part knew, however, that one day he would want to do whatever married couples did and how were you supposed to deny him?

You could not go for ‘you’re injured’ forever; he healed faster by the day. And you could not fake sickness; your health has always been top notch.

Noticing you were shaking completely, you let go of the utensils before you cut yourself and walked back to the bedroom.

He was there already. His back turned to you. He was naked up the waist and the scars on his back — old scars, not the fresh wounds that were about to mark him for good — made you bit your lip.

You stood there for a good couple of minutes, unsure of what to do.

When he turned to face you, you forgot how to breathe.

Clearing your throat, you walked to the wardrobe and retrieved the datapad.

You were not sure you should do that — for the maker, you were not even sure you did the best by saving him! —, but you knew you had to make him trust you somehow.

And at the moment, you could not come up with better solution.

You walked to him and slowly reached out, offering the datapad. He did not take it immediately and no word left his lips, but his expression made it all clear he wanted to know what that was.

You wetted your lips.

“I found it in this newest attack…” You looked at his eyes, he was staring at you rather intensely. This time you touched him out of your own volition. You drew his hand into yours and placed the datapad between his fingertips. It was a dangerous bet, this one you were betting on. He could read whatever files he would find there and only the maker could know what more. But you had to try. “I-I… It belonged to the First Order.” His eyes went cold at your words. “And I think it’s time for you to have it.”

A/N -  Chapter 3 - Hot & Cold will be updated as soon as possible. Next week I’ll be focusing on updating chapter 20 on AO3, but I think I can manage to post it here as well xD It’s been fun rereading this story. Besides fixing the mistakes, it also helps me a lot to prepare for what’s come and I can only hope you will like what’s to come. I think that’s all and I hope you like it xD

taglist: @girl-next-door-writes​ @angustieis​