#other than to wait for the system to fall under its own weight

[polaksli]

Brief history of anti-LGBT legislations in Russia

Throughout 90s and 2000s there were no discriminatory laws in Russia. There were openly queer celebrities (whether they said they were for PR alone or not is a complicated subject. Nevertheless, there were people who gained popularity and presented queer)

In 2013 the first legislation passed. It was an "anti-propaganda" law to "protect children" from becoming gay. The way to work around it was putting +18 on any piece of media or an event that contained even a mention of the subject.

In 2022 anti-propaganda law stopped being for children only. LGBT was mentioned next to pedophilia, both in the same regard. The law was rushed (like many of the oppressive laws since the invasion in Ukraine) and it was not clear what exactly it meant. In practice it mostly affected movies, TV and internet publications.

Earlier this year, in june 2023, ban of transgender transitioning was put in place. Once again, very poorly worded. This one and the previous one had two main functions:

To censor opposition. Most of those, who disagree with the current state of politics in Russia, if not outright support LGBT, at least don't mind. This information can be dug up and used against said people.

To create an enemy. The war was supposed to be won quickly. They promoted their army to be the second greatest in the word, they promised to take Kyiv in 3 days. Nothing of that happened, but life for everyday people got worse. One of the ways to redirect that frustration is fight an enemy that doesn't exist.

The russian government does not care about queer people nor understands us. They preach to their electorate that they nurtured to hate any "other". They make russian believe that our neighbors are nazis, the whole world wants us dead and they take our children by making them gay. I believed this is where they would stop.

There is no "LGBT organisation" in Russia. Before that they tried to find any minute reason or make up a reason to silence the opposition. Now they don't even need the organisation to exist.

Once again, the words are very loose, so they can use the law in any way they see fit - a very popular practice. It is not yet active, the court decision does not specify that exactly. Some sources say it will be 10th of January, 2024.

Any display of "non traditional values" will be equated to terrorism.

[robogirlwomb]

The Rise of the Jellyslime

CW: Transformation, corruption, hypnosis, personality alteration, weight gain, merging, pregnancy, oviposition, lots and lots of goop

(Ao3 link if you prefer it!)

The Jellyslime came from the stars.

From some far-off alien planet, it and so many others of its kind were sent, out into a thousand directions into the stars.

Their mission: to love.

To spread their love, for each other and for all beings, across the universe, and to show all beings they encountered just how beautiful they could be.

Such was the mission of the Jellyslime that oozed from the softball-sized goop egg that landed on Earth. A small, gloopy thing, about the size and shape of a sea slug, carefully oozing along a branch in the tree its egg had landed in and stuck in, just before it hatched into the world.

The Jellyslime was so excited! Here, it could do what its species did best, loved doing best: find a Host and help them become beautiful!

As it reached the end of the branch, it looked around, despite not having any eyes or even a face to speak of. Alien biology is weird.

Below it was a human park, nestled in an average human city. Green grass spread in every direction, and a concrete sidewalk just happened to lead right under its branch.

Perfect!

The Jellyslime settled in on its branch, and waited for its Host to arrive.

~/~/~

Katherine panted gently as she jogged, her running shoes scuffing softly against the pavement beneath her.

A cool breeze blew through the park, rustling the grass the trees with the promise of autumn.

Katherine’s muscles rippled under her crop top, coated in a sheen of sweat from her run. Katherine considered herself something of a fitness nut. She was a frequent customer of her local gym, and had worked hard to tone her body’s muscle mass. She was very proud of the work she’d put into it.

Her watch beeped at her side, and she came to a stop under a low-hanging tree, panting for breath.

Completely unaware of how much her life was about to change, Katherine leaned forward, catching her breath, before unclicking her water bottle from her strap on her thigh.

It was as she was leaned forward, unstrapping her water bottle, that she felt something land on the back of her neck with a squelch.

Katherine jumped, the water bottle falling to the ground, forgotten. She quickly reached for the back of her neck, thinking it must be a wet plastic bag or something-

Only for her fingers to slide right off of the thing.

“What the fuck-“

Katherine turned her head, craning to look at her shoulder, just in time to see a purplish-green slug, more slime than anything, ooze onto her shoulder.

Katherine stared at the faceless thing. “Uh. Hi?”

The Jellyslime stared at her for just a second longer, before leaping directly into her ear canal.

Adrenaline flooded Katherine’s system as she grabbed for the slippery Goop-Thing. There was no way she was letting some alien… thing eat her brains.

This is bad. This is bad.

Katherine’s fingers scrabbled at the tail end of the Goop-Thing protruding from her ear, trying to find purchase, just enough to yank it back out, but it was like trying to grab a hunk of jello.

With a final SCHLORP, the Jellyslime slid down Katherine’s ear canal, leaving only a sticky fruit-smelling green residue behind.

Katherine’s heart plunged into her stomach as she truly began to panic now. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and she began to breathe heavily. What was gonna happen to her? What was this thing gonna do to her brain?!

As the Jellyslime slid down Katherine’s ear toward her brain, it began to pick up on the signals from its new host… and it was… scared?

Oh no. Oh no! Why was Host frightened? Had Jellyslime done something wrong? Jellyslime had never actually been in a sapient being before, so it was new to this. But why was Host fighting back so much? This was horrible, Jellyslime didn’t want its host to be scared!

Oh goodness! Host, it’s okay! Please don’t be scared! Please, please, I love you! I’ll make you so beautiful!

As the Jellyslime fretted in Katherine’s braincase, it began to exude a new substance, one that slowly seeped into the cracks and pores of Katherine’s brain, soaking in, enacting its changes on the martial artist.

Katherine felt a sudden wave of calm wash over her, like everything was gonna be okay. She realized she felt fine.

More than fine, actually. She felt…really good. Katherine giggled dumbly as she stumbled against the tree trunk, the world spinning around her. She was dimly aware that she felt very, very drunk.

Jellyslime would have breathed a sigh of relief if it had a mouth or lungs.

Thank the stars. Thank you, Host. I love you. Thank you for trusting me. I love you.

Katherine giggled even further as she slowly slumped down the trunk. “Everythingsh… getting’ weeeiiiiiird…” Her tongue felt heavy. A line of drool dripped down her chin. More than drunk, Katherine now felt absolutely schnockered, like she had just gone on a very long, very fun booze trip.

Now, don’t you worry, Host! I’m gonna take us somewhere nice and private, and we’re gonna get started! By the time I’m done, you’ll be so, so, so beautiful!

Katherine couldn’t help but give out another giggle as she felt herself rise to her feet and begin to walk towards her apartment building, on the edge of the park. “Soundsh… gooooood…”

Once they were inside, Jellyslime carefully maneuvered Host up the stairs, where it knew Host could have some privacy somewhere comfortable and familiar. Despite the cold, rickety steel restraints shown in a lot of Human media, comfort was the real key to brainwashing and mindmelting.

Allowing the apartment’s front door to snap closed behind them, Jellyslime pointed Host through the living room and down the hall toward Katherine’s bedroom. Katherine kept giggling as she was steered down the hallway. It felt like she was on a roller coaster, staggering this way and that.

Jellyslime felt Host’s giggles, and was proud. Host is so happy and excited! We’re gonna have so much fun together!

Katherine giggled as she plopped backward onto her bed. She could feel that her panties were soaked through with her own arousal. What’s more, she could feel two slowly-growing damp patches on the front of her shirt. But that couldn’t be right, she couldn’t lactate… could she? It was hard to remember little details like that.

Go ahead and strip those yucky clothes off of you, Host! They’ll just get in the way of how beautiful you’re gonna become!

Still giggling dumbly, Katherine slowly shucked off her clothes. Her shoes fell to the floor, followed by her tight jogging pants, her crop top, and her underwear.

From each nipple and her crotch, Katherine was already producing a thin, watery purplish-green substance. The room smelled strongly of fruity candy, a smell that made Katherine’s head spin even more as the alien mutagens worked their magic on Katherine’s very molecular structure.

Now, just sit tight and let yourself feel good, Host! I’m gonna take charge for a while!

“Kay…” Katherine mumbled with a smile, one hand creeping downward toward her nethers, the other toward one breast.

~/~/~

Hours Later…

Katherine giggled as she slipped two fingers in and out of her soft, goopy twat. “Goop, goop, goop, goop…” She mumbled to herself, singsong. Her brain was awash in a sea of soporific chemicals and endorphins, slowly enslaving her further and further to the sensations she was feeling now.

Jellyslime looked over its Host with pride. Host was so happy and Beautiful now!

Her breasts had swollen, hanging low from their slime-induced output. Thick, creamy milk flowed freely from her puffy nipples, trickling down, dripping over the carpet.

Her carefully worked-for muscles were long gone. Her tummy had ballooned outward, a large, soft cushion of blubber and fat forming as Jellyslime had worked its magic on her body. Katherine trailed her fingertips over the plush of her jiggling stomach, cooing softly at how good it felt to be this fat. A thin trail of rainbow-colored goop slowly leaked from her belly button, oozing downward toward her pussy. She thrust one finger in and out of her belly button, giggling and moaning all the way.

Her jellycock, so hard and stiff it was almost painful, jabbed at the underside of her soft tummy. Moving her hand from her belly button, Katherine wrapped her fingers around her jellycock, thrusting her shaft wildly as she fingered her goopy pussy.

Below her, Katherine’s ass had also swollen, becoming bigger, jigglier. A slow trickle of fruity rainbow slime from her butthole added to the slowly growing puddle on the floor.

“I’m-m-m-m… so… beautiful…” Katherine moaned. She had never felt so good in her entire life.

Jellyslime was so proud of host. Yes, Host! You are! We are!

Katherine moaned loud and long as she came. Thick, goopy, multicolored cum spurted on her bottom of her stomach, sticky and warm against her overhang. The feeling almost made Katherine cum again.

She hummed to herself softly, allowing herself to fall backward onto her newly generous ass, sinking to lie on her back. She absently ran her fingers through her hair, her bare feet squelching in the slimy carpet, further coating her.

“Goop… goop… goop… goop…” Katherine grabbed a handful of sweet, sweet fruity goop in her hand, allowing it to trickle into her mouth and down her throat, staining her newly round, chubby cheeks. “Yummy, yummy goop.”

Aww, is Host hungry? You know what to do!

Katherine nodded happily, her eyes glazed and dull. She reached toward her chest, grabbing a handful of titflesh with one grasping hand. She dreamily guided it to her own mouth, moaning softly around her own nipple as she wrapped her lips around it.

The sudden gush of delicious creamy jiggly soft warm milk made her eyes roll back in her head, her brain and tummy suddenly tingling anew. With every suck, Katherine felt like she was floating, flying, a big fat dumb goopy cloud.

Katherine’s rewired body began rapidly digesting and processing the milk she was feeding from her breasts to her stomach, quickly metabolizing into additional added blubber. Through half-lidded eyes, Katherine could see her tummy and her tits slowly growing larger, fat deposits forming and deepening in her arms and legs. Beyond her view, blocked by her belly, she could feel her nuts growing fatter, rounder. Her jellycock oozed outward a little more, dripping strawberry-flavored pre onto the floor.

Katherine dimly realized that she had never been this happy in her entire life.

You’re doing so good, Host! I’m so proud of you!

Katherine smiled dumbly as the voice inside her head praised her so, her tummy filling with butterflies at the kind, loving words. Her nipple slid from her mouth with a loud Pop! as the suction was broken. “Thank you… Jellyslime… you made me… so… beautiful…” Katherine’s red-colored eyes seemed to shimmer as she spoke. Fat, lime-flavored tears of joy trickled from the corners of her mouth as she lay there. Both hands slowly caressed the sides of her massive tummy, Katherine’s brain floating in chemical bliss. “Goop… goop… gooooooop…”

Now comes the fun part, Host!

More fun than this?

Now… we get to Spread.

The voice seemed to shiver an anticipation at that word.

“Spread?”

Yeah! We get to Spread, to show other members of this planet how good it feels to be part of the Jelly!

Katherine could hardly believe what she was hearing. “We… I get… I get to make my friends feel this good too?”

Mm-hmmm! Everyone you love! They all get to be a part of the Jelly now! They get to feel good forever and ever, and never have to be hurt ever again!

Katherine’s Jelly-coated brain jiggled with glee at the idea. Her pussy twitched in a spike of pleasure. “I’m ready. How do we start?”

I saw your cellular communication device. Call someone, anyone! And don’t worry about scaring them off, I’ll take over regulating your brain function and speech center so you don’t have to worry about them hearing something weird or getting suspicious!

Katherine’s hand was already groping for her phone before she realized she was doing it. She unlocked the screen, leaving a smear of goop behind her moving finger. As she tapped through to her contacts, her knees bent upwards, spreading her fat legs outwards. Her massive jellycock waved in the air like a cobra, bending downward, brushing softly over the entrance to Katherine’s pussy. Katherine shuddered in anticipation, her thumb tapping the call button.

Katherine’s jellycock slowly, gently plunged into her goopy pussy, the pleasure making her eyes roll back in her head and her toes curl as a familiar voice on the other end of the phone said “Hello?”

Katherine’s body was wracked with an enormous orgasm as her mouth calmly said “Hey, Emily. Am I interrupting anything?”

“Oh, hey, Katherine! Not really, I’m just finishing up studying for an exam tomorrow. What’s up?”

The jellycock continued to pump in and out, slithering as deep into Katherine’s body as it could before sliding smoothly back out. Katherine’s red-colored eyes leaked uncontrollable tears of pleasure and joy, a massive, toothy grin on her face.

“Nothin’ much, just wanted to see if you wanted to come over and hang out a while. It’s been a bit, felt like catchin’ up.”

“Yeah, sure!” Emily’s voice was bright and cheery on the other end, blissfully unaware of the alien railing her friend was receiving as she spoke. “Gimme a bit to finish this up and I’ll head your way. About an hour okay?”

Katherine nodded, her multiple chins jiggling. “Sounds great! See you then.” A gigantic pressure was building in her jellycock, so much bigger and greater than any of the loads she had shot with it throughout the day. That all-consuming wave of pleasure was slowly rising, building within her pussy.

“See you then, Katherine. Bye.”

“Bye-bye.”

The phone line clicked as the call dropped, and Katherine shrieked in pleasure as she ejaculated into herself. Her fingers slid over the slick carpet, grasping for purchase, finding none.

Katherine felt something inside of her jellycock, something large, rising along, carrying on the stream of jellycum. It felt so, so good, like a slow-motion orgasm, getting closer and closer and…

The small, squishy alien egg popped from the tip of Katherine’s jellycock, burying itself in her pussy. Katherine made an incomprehensible sound, gurgling low, as another egg slid into her womb, then another, and another, and another, until Katherine stopped counting and simply rode this new, strange tidal wave of impregnating herself.

Eventually, the pleasure slowly, agonizingly, faded. Katherine slumped out spread-eagled on the floor, as her jellycock slid from her pussy, spitting out one last golf-ball sized goop egg on the floor.

Katherine couldn’t think, and thus didn’t, as she lay there, awash in pleasure. “Goop… goop… goop… goop… goop…”

~/~/~

The door clicked as Emily slid the copy of Katherine’s key into the lock. Katherine had given her permission to use it anytime long ago, and she was used to Emily entering without knocking.

Emily paused in the entrance, one foot in Katherine’s kitchen. Something seemed… off.

“Katherine?” She called into the apartment.

There was a long pause.

Then, from beyond the living room:

“Back here!”

Emily blinked, before shaking the odd feeling off. She allowed the door to click closed behind her, before inhaling deeply through her nose. Something smelled delicious. Like fruit tarts, or jam, or candy, or even all of them mixed together.

Emily entered the living room. That smell was even stronger here, almost cloyingly so.

“Emily, come on back to my room! I have something to show you.”

“Yeah…” Emily mumbled, feeling an odd buzzing in her head as she inhaled that wonderful scent again.

The hall carpet was soaked. Thick and mushy, with some strange goop that smelled like a mix of gummy candies and sex. It squelched under Emily’s shoes as she slowly stepped down the hallway.

She was dimly aware she should find something wrong with all of this… but with how light her head felt, it was hard to tell what.

Emily rounded the corner, into the open doorway of Katherine’s bedroom… and stopped there.

There sat Katherine, on the floor, looking almost 300 pounds heavier. She was completely naked, every part of her on display. Her skin had taken on a light sheen, like a gusher or a Fruit Roll-Up. A slowly growing puddle of what looked like jello slowly spread from her exposed genitals, both pussy and cock slowly leaking the stuff.

Katherine smiled warmly. “Hi, Emily.”

Emily wavered on her feet, her head swimming with pheromones. A scent like fruity jello permeated the air. Something… wasn’t right… but… she couldn’t place it… “Katherine … I don’t… what’s…”

Katherine raised her chubby arms to welcome Emily toward her. “Shhhh, don’t worry about it, Emily. Just… let it take you. Let go.”

Emily nodded, kneeling down to sit in Katherine’s ample lap. “Mmmmm… mkay… sounds good…” she whispered dreamily.

Katherine gently cupped Emily’s cheeks, guiding her closer, before leaning forward, to let their lips meet.

The instant the kiss made contact, Emily was lost. That strange, fruity, otherworldly flavor hung heavy on her lips. Emily licked her own lips, swaying gently. “Mmmm… more please…” She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Katherine’s shoulders, kissing Katherine as hard as she could. Her tongue leapt to meet Katherine’s in the middle, eagerly searching for more of that impossible flavor.

Katherine moaned, hugging Emily close to her body. Emily trembled through the kiss, feeling how soft and warm Katherine’s body was. “Katherine … please… need more…”

She wants us, Host! She wants to join us and be beautiful!

Katherine pushed Emily back gently, Emily sighing dreamily as she swayed backward. Katherine smiled. “Take your clothes off, Emily.

The whites of her eyes already turning a light green as the jelly soaked into her very being, Emily nodded with a happy smile. She hooked the straps of her overall-dress under the thumbs, sliding it off of her torso. Her sweater quickly followed suit, leaving her in her bra, panties, and stockings. She fumbled with her bra for just a moment, before that too fell to the goop-covered floor, letting Emily’s tits hang freely.

Katherine rubbed the circumference of her belly with one hand, tweaking her own nipple with her other. “Come here, Emily, you sweet, sweet thing…” Katherine giggled dumbly as the Jellyslime released a new load of endorphins in her brain, rewiring more neural pathways for what was to come. Katherine’s jellycock throbbed and writhed of its own volition, the purple tendril eager and waiting.

Emily crawled forward on hands and knees, moaning softly with anticipation and need. Reaching her former fiancée, Emily placed a soft, gentle kiss on the top of Katherine’s tummy, before slowly working her way downward, placing more and more butterfly kisses against the warm flesh. Katherine giggled, cooing softly at Emily’s ministrations.

Emily could barely restrain herself from simply burying her face in Katherine’s warm, massive navel and staying there, instead contenting herself with lapping up the thick stream of red-colored goop that oozed from it. Her tongue lit up with the delightful taste of raspberries, and she wiggled in delight. Her eyes sank to a deeper, richer shade of green as the alien jelly she had taken into herself began to coalesce and merge inside of her, already beginning to rewrite her genetic code, changing her body to suit the Jelly’s needs.

Katherine felt Emily’s breath on her massive jellycock, and shuddered in anticipatory delight. Emily, for her part, registered on an increasingly-dim level that there should be something weird about Katherine having suddenly put on hundreds of pounds of weight, and having a prehensile purple slime-dick that smelled of fruit gummies and was as long as Emily’s forearm… but then again, it was getting harder and harder for Emily’s brain to process words longer than 2 or 3 syllables, so it quickly faded from view.

Emily’s brain was alight, begging her, begging her to take Katherine’s length into her mouth, that it was the only thing in the world… and so she did.

With one last kiss upon the tip, Emily slid her mouth over Katherine’s jellycock, taking as much of it into her mouth as she could. Her eyes widened at the sudden hurricane of delicious flavors that assaulted her taste buds. She wanted more! She needed more! Her tongue slid over and around the goopy length, relishing every second. Her mouth quickly filled with sweet, juice-flavored pre, and she swallowed, continuing to suck down as much as she could.

Katherine shuddered, moaning loudly as Emily sucked, almost seeming to nurse from Katherine’s jellycock. Her feet kicked in the jelly coating the floor, her red eyes rolling back into her head from the pleasure.

“Emily … oh god… take it… Emily, I love you…”

Emily’s heart suddenly surged in her chest at those words! Katherine loved her! This wonderful, enormous, Rubenesque beauty whose cock her lips were wrapped around loved her!

Emily’s hand began to pump Katherine’s length, stroking it, caressing it, gently fondling her baseball-sized nuts. Emily’s other hand slipped downward, sliding past her panties to diddle her own pussy, feeling her knees shake in pleasure.

Katherine began to buck where she sat, which didn’t make much of a difference with all of her added blubber. Instead, her jellycock began to thrust into Emily’s mouth, curling and straightening, sliding deeper and deeper into Emily’s throat, the jelly numbing and sliding around her uvula, never touching her gag reflex.

With a loud moan, Katherine threw her head back as she came, more jellycum sliding up and spurting from her cocktip. It spurted into the back of Emily’s mouth like water from a hose, sliding directly down her throat and into her stomach as excess flowed back upward, filling Emily’s mouth with fruity flavors.

Emily moaned around Katherine’s jellycock, feeling the massive, heavy load land in her stomach, slowly filling her. She swallowed as much as she could, even as the excess kept coming, until it flowed from her mouth, green jelly oozing from each corner, trickling thickly down her chin and her neck, dripping onto her breasts.

As the jellycum landed in her stomach, it began working its strange alien magic on her body. A comfortable plush began to form around her stomach and midsection, her arms and thighs beginning to widen, ever so slightly. Emily stayed where she was, dazed, her mouth still around Katherine’s jellycock.

With a smile as she came back to her senses, Katherine reached forward, poking Emily’s forehead mischievously with one finger. Emily blinked at her touch, before sliding backward, Katherine’s jellycock sliding out of her mouth, already getting hard again.

Seeing this, Emily’s eyes widened in delight. She quickly slid her panties off, paying no mind to the increasing size of her thighs. She clambered to her feet, her stockings squelching in the goop, before standing astride over Katherine’s chubby form. Katherine grinned, her jellycock wiggling upward, to gently brush over Emily’s nethers. With a shudder and a grin, Emily bent her knees, allowing the jellycock to slide into her. She moaned loudly, as she slid down, down, down, the jellycock going deeper and deeper inside of her, until she straddled Katherine’s generous midsection, staring up at the ceiling but not seeing anything, shaking and moaning.

Smiling, Katherine made herself comfortable as her jellycock began to fuck Emily. Emily bounced up and down automatically, jiggling Katherine’s slowly-growing fat as she took the jellycock into her. With a languid smile, Katherine traced one chubby hand over Emily’s still-slim stomach, before tracing up, circling Emily’s areola as the tomboy moaned.

Emily couldn’t know it, but her brain was being rewired by the goop she had ingested. Certain thoughts were being suppressed, filed away, while others were inserted by the goop, made more and more prominent.

Thoughts of fucking, and sucking, and serving, and spreading, and breeding, and laying.

A familiar feeling began to push its way up Katherine’s jellycock, the dozens of delicious eggs cultivating in Katherine’s womb seeming to cry out with the two of them as more eggs began to push themselves out, up, into Emily’s eager and willing womb.

Emily’s form began to widen, fatten as more and more alien seed pushed into her body. Her breasts began to inflate, her ass softening as it expanded.

As the two of them finished cumming, Emily fell onto her back, her limbs spread in every direction. Her newly-fattened tummy shook softly on top of her, left to right. Jellycum oozed from her fat pussy, joining the mass on the floor. She twitched softly as the micro-orgasms slowly tapered off.

Katherine smiled at her old fiancée, at the slowly growing corpulence on her body. She would soon grow as big as Katherine was now. All they had to do was wait.

Katherine slowly hauled herself to her feet, standing, looking down at Emily with a smile. Katherine was massive, her breasts each the size of a fully-grown watermelon. Her gut, speckled with new stretch marks and cellulite, hung downward, the end of her jellycock hanging low behind it. She had also gained a few inches to her height, the alien goop slowly coating and cushioning her growing spine.

Something tickled as it squirmed within Katherine. The jellyeggs were getting ready. Soon it would be time to lay them.

“Good job, Emily. You did so good. You’re gonna make such a great mommy to those eggs.”

Emily nodded, staring up at Katherine with an almost religious worship and awe in her eyes, a dreamy smile on her face as she said “Thank you, Jellymama.”

Katherine blinked at the word. “Jellymama?”

The voice inside Katherine’s head spoke up from the Jellyslime’s spot, curled around and soaking into Katherine’s brain more and more.

Yep! You get to be the Jellymama for this planet! That’s such an honor!

Something, some last vestige of who Katherine used to be, buried deep within her goop-covered brain, spoke up one last time. No! This isn’t me! I don’t want to be a…

The thought died as quickly as it came, silenced under a torrent of goop.

Katherine smiled, her red eyes shimmering as she slid a handful of goop from her belly button back into her mouth.

“Jellymama. I’m this planet’s Jellymama.”

And with that admission, that final surrender to the Jelly, Katherine dropped to her hands and knees as she felt her pussy quiver, the clutch of goop-eggs deep inside her beginning to shake.

It was time. Katherine’s tongue slid from her mouth, her red eyes rolling back in her head as the pleasure grew, as her brain was consumed with thoughts of laying, and breeding, and laying, and breed lay breed lay breed lay breed LAY-

With a moan from her mouth and a splash from her twat, a torrent of jelly eggs began to fall from Katherine’s pussy, sliding out on a torrent of jellycum. One by one, they fell out and downward, sticking together, the jellycum congealing and hardening quickly around them even as more and more came sliding out.

Emily watched in fascination as Katherine, the Jellymama, rocked back and forth on her hands and knees, as more and more small eggs slid out, a dozen, two dozen, three.

As the torrent of blissful eggs came to an end, Katherine sighed shakily. She pushed herself backward, onto the soft cushion of her ass. Her nipples and belly button leaked a constant stream of milk and goop now. Katherine sighed in relief, tweaking one nipple as she gazed at Emily. “Come here, Emily. You need some of this too. Need to be able to feed the babies, after all.”

Emily crawled forward on her hands and knees, her breasts and pregnant belly hanging below her. Her eyes were deep green, and shimmering along with Katherine’s. She reached her Jellymama, crawling up into Katherine’s enormous lap, before reaching up to one massive breast almost as big as she was, and taking the gigantic nipple into her mouth.

Emily began to suckle, feeling her brain go fuzzy and soft as the alien milk gently flowed into her. A feeling of warmth and safety overtook her as she slid into a quiet milk dream, of breasts and blankets and warm, jiggly mother’s milk. She nestled closer to the big, soft cushion of Jellymama’s goop-filled tummy, the warmth radiating from it filling her with an even more soothing sense of calm.

Jellymama smiled drunkenly, stroking Emily’s hair with one hand and kneading her pregnant gut with the other as Emily nursed from her breasts. She whispered softly. “Goop… goop… goop…”

A delightful chill ran up Jellymama’s spine, and she giggled as she felt a familiar pressure in her ear canal. A cool, slimy sensation trickled around her earlobe as the Jellyslime eased itself out, stretching so it was still connected to Jellymama’s brain. Jellymama could still hear it speak to her.

Look at her, Host! She’s so beautiful!

Jellymama nodded, her heart swelling as she tenderly nudged Emily’s bangs from her forehead. “She is, isn’t she?”

Emily sighed contently around Jellymama’s nipple, unconsciously nuzzling closer as she suckled.

“She’s so…cute.”

Jellymama looked at the Jellyslime as it hung in the air in front of her face, suspended from her ear. “Thank you, Jellyslime. Thank you for… all of this.”

Of course! It’s my job to make you beautiful! And this is just the beginning! Once your eggies hatch, they’ll be able to help us make even more people beautiful! We have so many friends to Spread to!

Jellymama nodded, an eager smile spreading across her face. “Let’s let Emily sleep for a little while. She’s been so stressed for so long, she deserves this.”

Her life’s gonna be so much easier and simpler now.

Jellymama leaned forward, gently kissing the Jellyslime atop its little head. With a muffled giggle, it withdrew itself back into her brain case.

~/~/~

A few days later…

The apartment building quietly became closed off to the outside world.

Its residents were quickly finding themselves preoccupied by the newfound changes brought on by the surprise visitors that had slithered out of their vents in the night.

So many different, delightful, delicious changes.

~/~/~

Apartment 2A

Jade was fused to the wall by a mass of goop.

Their arms were pinned straight to the wall on either side of them, their face, breasts, and enormously swollen belly protruding from the goop.

Their newly chubby legs were spread wide, exposing their asshole to the jelly tentacle that was steadily thrusting in and out of their anus.

Their newly-grown jellycock leaked a slow stream of thick, sweet, blueberry-flavored cum.

They moaned gently around the penis-shaped mass in their mouth that was filling them with molten sweetness, their blue-tinted eyes rolling backward into their head in pleasure.

~/~/~

Apartment 3B

Veronica was on her hands and knees, sucking on her boyfriend’s jellycock.

One hand was between her legs, pumping her own jellycock that had grown in, leaking a delicious grape-flavored purple.

Her boyfriend Peter was sprawled backward, giggling an insensate stream as he thrust into his girlfriend’s goopy mouth, his own stomach swollen with so many lovely, delicious eggs.

The two of them, dazed and saturated in sweetness, were accelerating in their transformation in a different, exciting way. Their flesh, which had that same goopy sheen to it, seemed to be melting together where they touched, Veronica’s fingers sinking deeper and deeper into her jellycock, the pleasure organ melding with her limb as she pumped it back and forth.

Had she had the presence of mind to do so, she would have found it increasingly hard to remove Peter’s jellycock from her mouth.

With their combined love, the two were slowly becoming a singular entity, devoted entirely to its own self-sustaining pleasure.

~/~/~

Apartment 3E

Zoe’s head tilted backward, extra chins already growing as another Lesser Jellyslime squirmed its way down her throat. She moaned in a combination of satisfaction from the fruit candy flavor, and slowly mounting lust, as she scrabbled for her new dripping pussy with one fat hand, fumbling past her growing belly, before she dug three fingers deep into her snatch. She moaned greedily at the new sensations, her slowly goopifying hand slipping deeper and deeper inside.

Iris was on her back, thrusting her hips into the air as a Lesser Jellyslime crawled into her asshole. Her girlcock was rock-hard, even as the mutations caused it to shrink, smaller and smaller, until it at last inverted with a slow, rolling orgasm. Her toes curled, her tongue hung from her mouth as she moaned incomprehensibly, the Jelly mutations setting in as her skin gained a translucent hue, like a blueberry flavored Gummy. Her thighs and hips began to balloon outward.

Iris grasped for her girlfriend’s hand, and found it reaching back for her. The two slowly-growing slaves to the Jelly pulled each other closer, before pulling each other into a wet, goopy kiss. Their tongues swirled in the middle, moaning into each other’s mouths as more and more Lesser Jellyslimes slipped inside of them.

They gasped for breath in between kisses.

“Luh’ joo-“

“-love you too-“

“You’re gonna be… such a great… mother…”

Iris almost wept with joy at the thought. “We both are.”

~/~/~

“I’ve really missed you guys.”

The Jellymama smiled. “We’ve missed you too, Goro! You’re in town, right? Want to come by for a while? You can stay the night!”

“Sure, if you’ll have me!”

Katherine chuckled as she rocked back and forth on her knees, plunging her jellycock in and out of Emily’s ear, fucking her brain, drowning any remaining thoughts she may have had under an ocean of soporific jellycum.

Emily twitched, goop leaking from her ears and eyes as her brain was scrambled further by the Jellycock. The eggs she and Jellymama had laid days before had long hatched, tiny Jellyslimes crawling all over her, sliding in and out of her pussy and enlarged nipples. Emily’s body, modified by the Jelly to be optimal for breeding, shook and jiggled in pleasure as her babies crawled all over her, planting her with their gentle kisses, sliding up into her womb to curl up next to their unhatched siblings. Emily had already been stuffed full of her second clutch, her belly large and round.

“G-g-goop… goop… goop… goop…”

The Jellymama felt her pussy spasm just a little at the sight. Smiling softly, she turned her attention back to the phone call. “Of course, Goro! You know we love to have you over!”

“Great! I’ll be there soon!”

Jellymama laughed softly as she hung up the phone, tucking it into the Jelly beneath her massive, heavy breast. Her enormous belly shook as she moaned loudly, her jellycock spurting more jellycum into Emily’s ear.

Emily shook, babbling a few incomprehensible sounds as she slumped backward, a dumb, drunken grin on her face as she giggled happily, nothing left in her head but happy, happy goo.

Smiling with pride at her first subject, Jellymama reached down, gently stroking Emily’s enormous belly. Emily moaned in mindless pleasure, drooling a thin trickle of green down her growing chins. Her body, stomach, and breasts had continued growing as she became one with the goop, and she was rapidly on her way to becoming wider than she was tall.

Jellymama could sense the other converts in the building. Jade, Veronica and Peter, Iris and Zoe, and so many more. All of them were changing as the goop rewrote their bodies and minds, bringing them closer and closer together, turning more and more into silly Jelly fuckbeasts.

Jellymama smiled, sitting back down on her gigantic cushion of an ass to wait for Goro to arrive. If Emily had recovered enough by the time he arrived, maybe he could walk in to the sight of Jellymama fucking her brain again, or maybe to Emily laying her jellyeggs.

Maybe Jellymama would let the pheromones take him, make him so horny, turn him into an adoring slave to her body with a huge, goop-enhanced cock.

Or maybe she could stuff him bodily up into her big goopy twat, let the Jelly work its magic on him by just submerging him in it, turn him into a cute little goopling to ooze around and do as he was told.

Jellymama couldn’t wait.

[ltcolonelcarter]

For the DVD commentary ask game:

Yes, it's more than 500 words, but I was about to chose the last passage of chapter 6 from "a question of time" when Sixty and Connor meet.

I love that interaction so much!💙

So, I would like to hear some of your thoughts, if you have the time and energy!

As Connor shifted his method of attack, Sixty’s body reactive instinctively. Instead of activating a firewall to prevent unwanted data transfer, it opened to mutual data sharing; a blue glow under the plastic lit their skin, bleaching it of what little colour it had, turning them ghostly.

In a rush, Sixty felt Connor's experience every bit as much as he did his own, heart racing, tense limbs, fear and anger backed by—

Absolutely nothing.

Red lines flashed across his vision for milliseconds at a time, forming a giant matrix that encompassed the room, swallowing him entirely, but he saw nothing beyond Connor’s face.

Sixty grabbed Connor again, harder, as the blue faded from their skin and Connor started blinking as he returned to himself.

“There was nothing.” Sixty’s voice was a coarse snarl. “I saw nothing in you. How is that possible?”

LED yellow and spinning, Connor seemed to recover more slowly than Sixty. His mouth parted and he breathed slowly, releasing warm air in the narrow space between them, eyes moving back and forth over Sixty’s face, something dark and active coiled in the space behind them.

“How have you—” Connor blinked again and let go of Sixty’s hand. “What did you do to Hank?”

Sixty had been so afraid that Connor would deviate him, to pass on his flaw with a light touch and a flash of static, that he’d ignored all other potential outcomes.

Connor’s face changed, hardening as he processed the fragments of memory he’d glimpsed. His initial wariness was back and dominating his features—he no longer seemed uncertain, nor did he seem content to wait and analyse. He leaned forward of his own accord, searching Sixty��s face for evidence of guilt, for confirmation of what he already knew.

A wrenching twist in Sixty’s chest followed the change. Where he should have felt gratified to see Connor so strongly affected, he felt trepidation, sensed imminent danger.

He shoved Connor away from him, throwing as much of his weight into the movement as possible. Anticipating the move, Connor stumbled backwards but caught himself before he fell, arms outstretched to maintain his balance.

Sixty’s hand ghosted along his waistband, reaching obviously for his gun, his priority haste over stealth, careless that Connor would notice so long as he armed himself first.

Instead of grazing smooth gunmetal, Sixty’s hand brushed something else, equally cold but smaller, its shape indistinct through fabric and brief contact. It stalled him, pulled him back to another place, a heavy tension—cold fingers and colder air, the last vestiges of frustration and pain, overtaken with small but soothing defiance…

Three gunshots shattered Sixty’s thoughts at the same time as his chest panelling.

Three bullets to the pump regulator and surrounding systems, close grouping, damaging the biocomponent far beyond repair and causing critical thirium loss in fewer than seven seconds.

Sixty allowed himself to fall backwards, feeling the warm spread of blood across his skin, the tightening in his chest. His collision with the floor knocked the breath from him and he closed his eyes; at the same moment his hand reached into his pocket to remove the cause of his distraction and found chilled metal—glacial, as if it carried winter with it.

Connor paused, gun raised, stance steady, watching him fall. He took a step forward, cautious and slow, weapon still trained on Sixty, who didn’t notice him at all; he’d let his head fall back on the floor and watched the lights blur and swim as the thirium flowing through his processors ran thin. His thoughts stalled and faded, one at a time, until he was left with only the feel of cold metal as he pulled his hand from his pocket and pulled it up to eye level.

Above him, Connor murmured something soft, but it was lost to him—his audio processors had already shut down and he focused his remaining energy on lifting his arm to see what had cost him his victory.

He tipped his head sideways as his fingers, clumsy and numb, dropped the object he’d pulled from his pocket. Blinking repeatedly to clear his vision, his eyes caught something small and dark and gleaming in the cold blue light, rolling in a wide arc away from his face. Sixty’s brow creased and his arm, losing strength, fell back to his side as he watched it rock gently to rest on the grey floor.

The black king.

my DARLING (this ask meme)

for starters kisses your face I love you dearly

I have a lot of thoughts about these scenes with Sixty, and not all of my thoughts make it into chapters, so I'll try and expand around those. Also: warning for not-quite spoilers in case anyone wants to avoid upcoming stuff in chapter 7 - nothing I haven't foreshadowed, but maybe something you haven't pieced together (and certainly stuff Sixty hasn't processed).

this chapter was a MESS of a thing to write. I knew from day one I wanted an achronological chapter, a haphazard mix of thought and feeling that made about as much sense to the audience as the experience does to Sixty, but I had literally no clue if it would work in-text. It was going to start out more complicated but I simplified it for word count and clarity. I wanted to achieve several things:

first, Sixty hits a low

second, Sixty starts to lose what little discipline he has left and starts listening to his wants more than his mission, which alienates him from Amanda and leads us to:

 third. because of the above, Sixty experiences consequences inside his closed loop, but they don't arrive in the way he expects.

four. for fun. Sixty realises (or starts to realise) that he’s been so preoccupied with the obvious (connor, the mission) that he’s missed something critical

sooooo in every instance, here and in previous chapters, I wanted sixty to forcibly cut himself off from Connor. he sees an uncrossable void between them but his perception is  VERY skewed – he holds a contradictory view of Connor: Connor is deviant, so Connor is a failure. despite all of Connor’s failures, Sixty is still trying to match him, still trying to overtake him in Amanda’s eyes – and it’s complicated somewhat by him imitating Connor in the beginning. Here it manifests as Sixty expecting violence from Connor when Connor is reaching out to understand. This backfires horribly for two reasons:

Sixty misreads Connor, because his perception of Connor is so flawed he cannot make accurate predictions of his actions; his two-dimensional perception of Connor is just a reflection of how he’s afraid to be seen himself, an archetype of failure. Amanda uses Connor’s failure as a very effective motivator, in the same way we see Amanda use praise and disapproval to motivate machine!Connor in-game. Dumbass Sixty can’t see past who he thinks Connor is, and so Connor surprises him

Connor can SEE him now. Properly. He offered to take Sixty with him before and of course Sixty didn’t believe him, but it was genuine. Connor looked at Sixty and saw himself: a machine designed to accomplish a task, held hostage by his own mission. Sixty desperately does not want to be compared to Connor, even though he does it to himself compulsively…and this time Connor knows how different they are. Interface means he not only knows what Sixty has done but that he feels no remorse for it. Any chance of cooperation is lost completely.

Connor attacks, of course. Sixty takes this as more evidence that he and Connor are fundamental opposites, rather than the truth: he has set himself to be diametrically opposed to Connor and all of the problems come from his resulting actions, not some grand design from Amanda or CyberLife. He doesn’t hesitate in trying to fire back.

Naturally that doesn’t end well either. This time (compared to the other loops) Sixty isn’t too slow, or too angry – he hasn’t made a fundamental error that leads him to getting shot, he’s distracted by something else.

Okay so I have always been SUPER  aware that in choosing to write a time loop some stuff is going to be crazy boring to read because it’s repetitive by nature. I’ve tried to weave interesting things into the narrative on purpose to negate that, and focus on different aspects in loops that are similar… and that also let me lay groundwork for the subtle shifts loop to loop. They aren’t quite the same. They do vary. For example, from chapter 3:

It wasn’t right. He remembered last time: there’d been two night-shift guards, bored and ill-mannered, who’d verified his identity and then waved them on without pause. He checked the time and found there was fewer than two minutes’ difference between arrival times—they were later this time, but not late enough to explain the guards' absence. Instead of following Hank, Sixty looked over the partition to the desk below, searching for signs of recent activity: thermal residue from the presence of a warm human, a recently used coffee cup, an idling computer, anything. He found nothing at all. It didn’t look like anyone had used the space in hours. Stepping backwards slowly, mind consumed with unanswered questions, Sixty followed Hank’s voice when he called out, though he didn’t hear the words. He remembered. He’d scanned his palm… Hank had reluctantly flashed his badge-- “Connor. What are you waiting for?”

Sixty fixates on change because change is threatening. It adds an element of unpredictability to his loops, and unpredictability has an unfortunate habit of leading him to die and restarting the loop.

This time he’s carrying something he shouldn’t have. He picked up a chess piece in the garden – a general fuck you to the universe for messing with him, a way to strike back and mess up the game he feels forced to play. I love that reactive, selfish, childish part of Sixty and wanted him to show it whenever possible – more so as the fic progresses, as he gets angrier and less concerned about showing it. Taking the king was tantamount to taking control, pulling something back in an environment that is entirely out of his control, a game that he isn’t playing, he’s just caught up in it.

Fun behind the scenes fact: I’m gonna gif some fic stuff because I cannot RESIST this kind of self indulgence, but the chess stuff came from this scene in Last Chance, Connor where I noticed a chessboard in the frozen Zen Garden. It’s never referenced in-game, but I wondered… was Amanda supposed to be playing? Who with? I want to know. So I’m taking fic-flavoured liberties and writing my own version.

I like to think of Sixty’s emotionality as a strength, when it’s not wild an unchecked… an asset he could use if he chose to follow in Connor’s footsteps and embrace deviancy. He wouldn’t, of course, because following Connor would be tantamount to becoming him, and that’s unthinkable. He unknowingly cuts himself off from all growth because to grow and develop means following in Connor’s footsteps – and Sixty can’t see any further than that, even though beyond that he’d be able to become his own person. I love the tragedy of him constantly getting in his own way.

This’ll be a theme for the next chapter, and is one of my favourite ways to interpret Sixty in fan works: because he’s a copy, because of Amanda’s influence, he's searching for his own identity. He makes the critical beginner mistake of defining himself against Connor, which of course doesn’t distance them from each other at all. He won’t be able to become his own person until he learns to move past Connor, which of course is REALLY difficult when you’re… reliving the same night over and over again.

ANYWAY. The shift at the end of chapter 6 isn’t a failure on Sixty’s part this time, it’s a paradigm shift because the game has changed. Something is different. The price Sixty pays for noticing this is another death, another loop. He doesn’t even have time to speculate on the meaning before he dies, he’s already being pulled back into the storm…

The point of the black king is for Sixty to have brought something from the zen garden with him, in a way that shouldn’t be possible. I’ve discussed this before, most notably in chapter 5:

When he came to a stop, he flexed his hands experimentally, testing the tendons and joints. They were fine—just fine—almost no different from how they felt in the zen garden. There was little difference between physical reality and a simulated one: his synthetic brain processed all stimuli in the same way, regardless of its origin, so when his sensors told him he experienced the warmth of the summer sun, he did so. When they told him ice crystals were growing in his joints, seeded by microscopic imperfections in the metal and plastic, he felt the grind and burn every bit as much as if it were happening to a physical body, not just a projection of one For the same reason he shivered, the memory of the snow almost as strong as the sensation itself.

I wanted to discuss how android perceive reality. If you sense the world as so much data, how do you distinguish between different modes of being? Would reading data be the same as experiencing it? Would experiencing a virtual reality, like Amanda’s garden, feel the same as a real, physical world? Does “real” world even have a meaning in that kind of situation?

And, maybe most importantly for Sixty, how would you begin to tell the difference?  Well, if you were smart and not distracted, maybe you’d steal something digital – a little object, something no-one would really miss, as a kind of test. If you woke up and it was still there… 😏

thank you SO so much for this kisses your face 💕 I love rambling about sixty and my convoluted plans for this fucked up time loop✨

[skyfcx]

@robotnikium Liked for a Starter!

     Chaos Engine levels...? 100%.      Nanite Drive storages...? Stocked to the gills.      Ammunition of both lightweight and heavy-duty...?

     Armed and ready to go.

     Christmas break was oftentimes for lazing in bed and eating your weight in frosted cookies. However, some found more fun in the different and diverse. Some went to ski lodges to experience a finer funnel of winter activities. Some left for warmer climates, finding disdain within the chill and instead wishing for palm trees and surfboards in place of snow-topped pine trees and snowboards.

     Though, some? Some liked it adventurous. Some thought that the glittering crystals of late December would make for a fine fighting environment. Vivid were the red rocky stones of Rail Canyon throughout the year... Yet now, with winter having its way with the landscape, mountains high and valleys low were cast under cold blankets of white snow all the same. Grand vistas with a whole new spin...

     Oh yeah, this would all work perfectly for a rematch between mechs.

     A satisfactory plateau had been procured, a gut-dropping ravine splitting the site into two halves. One higher, one lower. Both sides owned a decent bit of land to them, some portions flatter than the others. Spires of stone, too, decorated the expanse, making for fine spots of cover, or, for the daring, a veritable sniper's perch. But who knows what a creative mind could do with the geography?

     Far down below resided rocks aplenty, though the veil of snow made it seem like a simple and innocent mistake to make if one accidentally fell down while crossing terrain heights. Alas, anyone who was wise to the dangers of the environment would know such a mistake wasn't one easily escaped from. Fall down and a myriad of the planet's natural spines would pierce and shred whatever tumbles into its slit of a maw.

     Finally, the sky. It was a dimming afternoon. Still early, all things considered, but the sun never was a night owl during this time of year. Effectively, it was evening. A light drift of snow falls gently. Powdery and fine.

     The newest, thinnest layer is broken by the approaching opponent.

     "Heya, Doc! You made it! Thanks again for accepting the invitation to tussle. Bit of a crazy request, I know, but it's been a while and I'm antsy to try out some new gear! And I think you'll like what I've cooked up.

     So, systems all a-go? I can't wait t'see what sorta magic you worked on the ol' Egg Walker! So long as you're ready for a couple'a tricks of my own! Trust me, ever since Metal Harbor and the ARK? There've been some upgrades, let me tell you! You're dealin' with a whole new beast!"

[disposal12]

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Survival of the Fittest. 

Pairing: Yandere!Bakugo/Reader/Yandere!Kirishima (BNHA).

Word Count: 3.6k.

TW: Apocalypse/No Quirks AU, Unhealthy Codependency, Non-Consensual Touching, Mentions of Death/injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Imprisonment.

You were lucky Kirishima had been the one to find you.

‘Find’ might’ve been the wrong word. It implied that he was looking, that he wanted to discover you, bleeding and battered and bruised, cowering in a grimy corner of what used to be a grocery store. It must’ve looked pathetic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by your torn clothes, your matted hair, the way you’d whimpered as he first approached, all wide eyes and open arms. Survivors were few and far between, and it’d been weeks since you saw another living, breathing person. Kirishima hadn’t seemed like a god-send, not in the moment, but he was a miracle. You’d been too shocked to thank him properly, as he pulled you to your feet and practically carried you out of the city, but you should. You wanted to. You owed him that, if nothing else.

You were lucky it’d been him, rather than Bakugo. You were grateful it hadn’t been Bakugo.

You’d probably still be rotting in that corner, if it had been.

He didn’t seem to like you very much, even if he had begrudgingly moved aside when Kirishima asked if he could bring you inside. It was a bunker, judging by the sparse furniture littered around the common area, plain cement walls only adorned with the occasional hunting knife or bat left to lean against them. The bench Kirishima had left you on was wooden, too stiff to ever be comfortable, but it was a practical choice. Fabric was a luxury to be stowed away and treasured, saved for things more important than a stranger’s comfort. You’d do the same thing, if you’d been in his shoes.

That didn’t stop Bakugo from glaring, though, perching himself on the edge of a nearby crate and refusing to take his eyes off of you, as if you’d already earned and lost his trust. “There’s no fucking advantage,” He started, but he wasn’t talking to you. You weren't worth his time, just yet, not while you were still just a stray Kirishima was too much of a saint to turn away. “We’re not a damn food bank. It’s not out responsibility to babysit every dumbass on the verge of death.”

“Don’t listen to him.” At least Kirishima was kind enough to address you as he slipped back into the common room, taking his place at your side and handing you something – a mug, cremated and unchipped and filled to the brim with something watery, steam still rising off the top. Your first sip was hesitant, but you couldn’t stop yourself from draining the cup once you recognized the taste. Coffee. Cheap, bitter, heavenly coffee, the kind you didn’t have enough clean water to risk trying to make. You could’ve kissed him. You might’ve, if the calm levity in his voice hadn’t snapped you out of it. “Katsuki’s just a little defensive, when it comes to guests. We’ve got plenty of supplies to go ‘round, and…” He trailed off, glancing over you. To the bruises circling your wrist, the stained bandages peaking out from underneath your shirt. To the spot where your ankle twisted just a little too far to the left for the angle to be natural, the evidence of a fall you tried and failed to break with something besides your own body. “I don’t think we can kick someone out in good faith with those kinda injuries. Not with all the crawler activity, lately.”

You flinched at the name alone. Crawler, creatures, the things that used to be people and weren’t, not now, not anymore. You used to think of them as zombies, but that wasn’t right. Calling them zombies would be an injustice, even if they did tend to rot if left to their own devices. Zombies weren’t that fast. Zombies weren’t that distorted. You’d encountered three or four, but you tried to avoid attracting them, when you could. It was easier, when you were on your own.

Bakugo groaned, bringing you out of your thoughts. You tried to stop your hands from shaking, as he spoke. “You’ve got a group to run back to, right? Nobody survives that long without one.”

You tried not to sound as small as you felt. Judging from the way Kirishima glanced away, it was a futile effort. “Nobody survives that long with one, either.”

Kirishima’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, and Bakugo crossed his arms, a sign that must’ve meant submission, judging by Kirishima’s optimistic response. “Just until your ankle’s healed up,” He promised, a compromise you hadn’t asked him to make. “You’ll stay until then, right? ‘d be a shame if we had to lose another person because of Katsuki’s bad attitude.”

There was a sharp ‘hey’, a barely stifled laugh, and slowly, you forced yourself to nod, immediately receiving a bright grin from Kirishima by way of reward. It was a practical choice, honestly – they had food, they had shelter, they didn’t seem to be grasping at threads just to get by. Even if Kirishima was a little too friendly and Bakugo wasn’t nearly friendly enough, you could life with that, you could get by. Once you’d worn out your welcome, you’d leave. As soon as you were fixed up.

You didn’t want to wait for things to go bad, this time.

~

Despite his reluctance, Bakugo didn’t take long to warm up to you.

Kirishima was still the approachable one, obviously. He was who you went to when you needed to find something, when you had a question about their ration system or weaponry or the parts of the bunker you weren’t allowed to go in, rooms with steel doors and deadbolts on the handle and a raw, metallic smell emanating from the other side, but Bakugo always seemed to be lingering just behind him, ready to scoff and roll his eyes before he took you by the wrist and explained that, if you expected to reap the benefits of their hospitality, you had to at least try to pull your weight. He was helpful, like that, his help less patronizing than Kirishima’s, albeit twice as easily frustrated. Still, he didn’t hate you. If anything, he seemed to—

“If you slow down one more time, I’ll feed ya to the damn bears myself.”

You sped up, reflexively. He didn’t hate you, but it wasn’t too late for him to start.

It’d been Kirishima’s idea for you to go hunting. You were still in a splint, the majority of your calf an abstract blend of medical tape and cloth padding, but you bit back the pain as you followed Katsuki down the rough, unpaved trail, gritting your teeth past the ache forming under your skin. It wasn’t a raid. If anything, you were only getting further from the city, working your way up the mountain their bunker was carved into the base of. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been concerned about the crossbow in Katsuki’s hands, the weapon already loaded and poised, but the hunting knife strapped to your thigh eased your nerves, as did his disinterest in doing anything but trudging forward. If he didn’t take the time to call back to you every few minutes, you might’ve thought he’d forgotten you were there entirely.

But, silence never suited you never well. Not with a near-stranger, at least. “You’re not afraid of crawlers?”

“This far out? Fuck no.” It was an immediate answer, quick and shameless. Like an amputation, if an amputation left you nursing a bruised ego rather than bleeding out. “There’s enough fresh meat in the city to keep ‘em occupied. Only the runts ever bother coming out here to look for scraps.”

“I would’ve been that meat,” You mumbled, absent-mindedly. It was an idle thought, more of an admission than an accusation, but judging by the way his posture slackened, how quickly his attention shifted to the foliage, he wouldn’t have cared either way. “If Kirishima hadn’t found me, I mean. God knows I look like an easy target.”

“You are an easy target. Just be glad he’s got a weak spot for charity cases.”

You opened your mouth, ready to ask what he meant, you lost your footing before you got the chance, slipping on the damp leaf litter as a spike of something agonizing ran from your heel to your knee. Bakugo didn’t flinch, letting you catch yourself on his shoulder as he raised his crossbow, barely taking a moment to aim before firing. You could feel the kick-back, a jolting reverberation that only seemed to make the wet thunk that followed a little worse, the sound of an arrow piercing skin and flesh.

You expected that. You were ready for it. But, you hadn’t been prepared for the deafening scream that came afterwards, heart-piercing and human. You moved to rush toward its source, but Bakugo only caught your arm, shaking his head. Like he’d missed, like he’d only killed a deer. Like there wasn’t a person thrashing in the underbrush, still crying out as he spoke over them. “Looters,” He explained, like that was an excuse. “We’ve been dealin’ with them for a while, now. ’s just a scout, but he would’ve been back with reinforcements if we let him run off untouched.”

Bile rose in the back of your throat. For your own sake, you chose to believe him. “So? We can’t just—”

“Yes, we can.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need your permission, and he didn’t want your compliance. He didn’t even bother to justify himself before he turned away, starting back on the trail as you stood, still too shocked to move. “C’mon, we’ve already lost enough sunlight, and I’m not wasting arrows on scum. The fucker can drag himself back to his hideout, for all I care.”

You could’ve argued. Bakugo didn’t seem to think the blow was fatal, but you could’ve checked, made sure, offer what might’ve been a dying man a few last seconds of company before he bit the bullet. You could’ve, part of you wanted to, but…

But then, Bakugo tossed a glare over his shoulder, and your attention was brought back to the crossbow in his hands, to the machete strapped to his belt, to how pitifully small your knife was, in comparison. You didn’t want to lose the trust you hadn’t really gained, just yet. You didn’t want to take that kind of chance, not when Kirishima wasn’t around to give you the benefit of the doubt.

So, you shut your eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the quiet sobbing in the background as you followed in his tracks.

~

Surprisingly, Kirishima was the first one to slip into your bed.

You told yourself it was a mistake, when he let himself into your room in the middle of the night, closer to sunrise than it was to sunset. None of the doors locked, thin plywood serving as more of a source of comfort than an actual barrier, and beyond your small collection of personal possessions and the bedside table you’d commandeered from storage, your room was identical to any of the eerily unoccupied barracks on the lower layers of the bunker. Still, you expected him to turn around, to see your sleeping form curled up in a corner of your cot and realize he had the wrong room. It was late, and he made a mistake. It didn’t have to be anything more.

But it wasn’t that late, and Kirishima never really made mistakes. He was too careful for anything like that.

At least he was being careful now, too, as far as you could tell with your eyes clenched shut, your breathing restricted to slow, shallow inhales that left your lungs feeling just a little too tight. He was gentle, if nothing else, wrapping a strong arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest and burying his face in the nape of your neck. You didn’t squirm, you didn’t push yourself away, but you must’ve been too stiff, too still, too rigid. He didn’t seem to buy the act, however desperate it was.

“’suki’s real proud of you.” His voice was tired, weighted down by exhaustion. Clearly, he wouldn’t be leaving. “He told me about yesterday. Says you were good, cooperative and all. He likes that kind of thing.”

You didn’t respond, digging your nails into the sterile, medical sheets. Your ankle throbbed, and you tried to focus on that, to justify it. To remember why you could still convince yourself to stay.

“He’s a big softie, though. We both are, but I don’t try to hide it.” There was a light squeeze to your side, the ghost of his lips over the crook of your neck. His breath was warm, compared to the bucker’s constant chill, and you tried to think of his smothering body heat as a small silver lining. “I think it’s sweet. Gets lonely ‘round here, y’know? You’re a good fit.” There was a pause, a chuckle. For a moment, you thought he might push a little further, hold you a tighter, but Kirishima only shook his head, going on with that same careless, tired lilt. “I knew you would be, when I first saw you. A fragile little thing like you could never survive out here, not all alone.”

He was half-asleep. He didn’t know what he was saying. He’d probably apologize tomorrow, if he even remembered. “I’m not going to stay for much longer. I’ll be on my own again, in another month.”

“We’ll see.” The cot’s barred frame creaked as he shifted, his weight coming to rest against your back – a constant, oppressive reminder of his presence. A memory flickered to life in the back of your mind, a familiar intimacy that’d been earned and asked for, but you pushed it away quickly. You didn’t want to think about things like that, not here, not when this was so one-sided, in comparison. “Get some rest. You haven’t been getting enough sleep, lately.”

You’d leave when it was safe to. When you healed. When you’d worn out your welcome and become more of a burden than a benefit.

You wouldn’t stick around long enough for things to get suffocating, this time.

~

It was a mutual decision, when Bakugo and Kirishima stopped you from leaving the bunker.

They didn’t ask. That was the part that stung, really, the thorn that started working itself under your skin the moment you caught them standing in the threshold, an empty duffle bag slung over Kirishima’s shoulder and a baseball bat tucked under his arm. Bakugo had his crossbow, a pistol you’d never seen before holstered at his hip, but that bothered you less than the way they were muttering, keeping their voices purposefully low. Like they knew how you’d feel, if you saw them. Like they wanted to avoid the tension.

You’d never been very good at picking up hints, though. Much less those you were desperately trying to ignore.

“You’re going out?” You called, approaching them before you could stop yourself, suppressing a yawn as you made a show of rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It was early, and you didn’t want Kirishima to know you’d already been up for hours. If he thought you were tired, he’d assume you were losing sleep, and if he thought you were losing sleep, he’d take it as an excuse to visit you at night, again. You… you didn’t like it, when he did. “Let me grab my stuff, it’ll only take a minute. If I knew you two were planning a raid today, I would’ve—”

Bakugo was the first to shut you down. “Sit this one out, alright?” It was a question, this time, but barely, his usual bluntness wrapped in a layer of kindness so thin, you could practically see through it. “’s just a quick supply run. We’ll be out and back before you notice we’re gone.”

“We’ve done this a thousand times,” Kirishima added, offering a small smile. At least he was trying to be nice about it, in his own, patronizing way. “It’s starting to get boring, honestly. It‘d be a shame to ruin all the progress you’ve made for something so minor.”

Right, your ankle. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d complained about it, the last time you’d been in enough pain to limp, even if Bakugo still insisted on tending to your ‘injury’ once a day, at least. The truth was glaringly obvious, even if they still made a half-hearted attempt to hide it, to let you avert your eyes and pretend you believed them.

You didn’t bother trying to hide your disappointment, your expression dropping as your nails bit into the meat of your palm. “You don’t think I can keep myself safe.”

In their defense, neither tried to deny it. Bakugo only looked away, and Kirishima smiled apologetically, his hand already pushing against the bunker’s metallic door. “We don’t want to risk it,” He explained, like you were a liability. Like you hadn’t survived out there for months without their help, injured or uninjured. “If something happened to you, if someone got to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. We both care about you, even if Katsuki doesn’t want to admit it.”

“It’s practical.” Bakugo didn’t look at you. It was a small mercy, really. At least he was self-aware enough to be ashamed. “You need more time. You fucked yourself up bad before Eijiro found you – all that doesn’t go away overnight.”

Expect, it hadn’t been a night. It hadn’t been a day, or a week, and you were starting to question if it’d even been only two months. It was hard to keep track of time, but the weather was already turning, every scrape and bruise Bakugo could’ve concerned himself with was already healed, and you’d already let yourself get comfortable. You’d stayed too long. You’d let them get attached, and you’d failed to make it clear that you weren’t.

You had to get out. Now.

~

Or, you could try to get out, at least.

You’d waited too long for Bakugo and Kirishima to just sit back and let you walk away.

They were stronger than you’d assumed. It was easy to forget what the human body was capable of, when you were so used to be exhausted and half-starved, but it wasn’t difficult to remember, not with Bakugo’s hands wrapped around your wrists, one of Kirishima’s arms splayed over your knees, stopping you from thrashing as they shoved you against a bed, a real bed, the frame wooden and the mattress more than just sponge and stuffing. It was one of theirs obviously, and if you’d stumbled onto it at any other time, you might’ve felt insulted, left out.

Right now, the only thing you could feel was terrified.

“Fucking bitch.” It was a grunt, a growl, followed by something close to a snarl as your elbow connected with his check. He was the one who’s caught you gathering up what little you had to take with you, a canteen already filled and strung across your back. It was on the floor, now, the metal dented and the contents spilling out, but if either of them minded wasting clean water, you couldn’t tell. They were busy, now, too busy dealing with you to worry about something so minor. Too angry to care, leaving you as the center of their rage. “We tried to be nice. We tried to give you a choice. You just couldn’t take the fucking hint, could you?”

“Let me go.” You couldn’t bring yourself to raise your voice, but you tried to come across as frantic, desperate, as betrayed and as disgusted as you really felt. “You’re both fucking crazy. I don’t want to—”

Kirishima didn’t let you finish, he’d never really bothered to. He was already shifting, leaning on one of your calves while grabbing at the other, calloused fingertips pressing into your newly-healed ankle, the remaining bruises still raw and tender. You cried out, more out of instinct than agony, but Kirishima only grit his teeth, rubbing circles into your skin, like that would be enough to soothe you. “We’re just taking care of you, alright? We’re just doing what’s best.” It was pointless to say, but the didn’t stop him from going on, rambling like he was going to convince anyone, including himself. “It’s dangerous, out there. You just need a little more time to realize that. You just need to see that ‘suki and I are your best option.”

They weren’t. They weren’t your best anything, but you didn’t have a chance to retort before Bakugo cursed under his breath, gathering your wrists up with one hand and forcing the other over your mouth, cutting you off before you could protest further. “Just do it,” He spat, all-but ignoring you as he spoke to Kirishima. “There’s no point in trying to explain this to someone so irrational. Let’s just get it over with before we have to do something worse.”

For a moment, you went still, a series of worst-case scenarios flashing before your eyes before you could rationalize them, before you could tell yourself to stay calm. For a moment, there was panic – pure, unadulterated, brutal panic.

And then, something cracked under Kirishima’s hand, and you forgot how to think of anything at all.

You let out a stilted, faltering sob, something akin to liquid fire running from your thigh to your calf to the point where everything stopped – everything below your ankle numb, disconnected, dead meat that still managed to hurt. The rest of your body went limp, your survival instincts gone and replaced with the unbearable desire to curl into yourself and cry, but Bakugo was still holding you, his arms strung around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as Kirishima slotted himself against your back, cooing soft nothings as you fought not to break down completely. They were talking again, both of them, but you couldn’t seem to listen. It didn’t matter.

Your ankle was broken. Not sprained, this time, not bruised, but broken. Shattered. Dislocated. Forced into a position that meant you’d be forced to stay, voluntarily or otherwise. Whether or not you could still stomach looking at Bakugo and Kirishima, let alone living with them.

You couldn’t leave, and you were beginning to think they were never going to let you.

[tossawary]

2,500 words of the Moshang Forced Marriage AU, in which the PIDW plot is turned off and Tianlang-Jun doesn’t fall, but this only causes even more problems for Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua. Written on my phone. 

- 

Shang Qinghua stumbled back into his leisure house with a jar of Zui Xian Peak’s best light wine in one hand and a sack of Qian Cao Peak’s tastiest specialty melon seeds in the other. He kicked the door closed, kicked off his shoes, and then kicked back for some quality lounging. 

   “Ahhh, now this is more like it!” he declared, wiggling into the cushions worthy of a head disciple’s house. “It’s all shoving off my chores onto other people from here on out! Having flatcakes on order with a snap of my fingers! Making some other poor bastard deal with Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge - at each other’s throats even at Yue-Shixiong’s nice dinner to celebrate our future ascension, eugh. I’ve really earned this! I’ve suffered enough!” 

   He dropped the sack of seeds onto the side table and fiddled with the wine, embarrassingly clumsy despite the fact that he was sober. As always, he’d been much too chicken-shit to really indulge around other people. He needed his fast reflexes for ducking and running away when he was out and about! Plus, people would freak the fuck out if a transmigrator started running his mouth, giving everyone existential issues and shit, so him waiting until he was alone to drink was really more of a societal service here than sad. 

   The Transmigration System had also been a concern before, but not anymore! 

   Shang Qinghua raised his jar and laughingly declared, “The plot is dead! Long live the free author! Ah, this toast is a little late, but better late than never, huh?” 

   At long last, this transmigrator had managed to get into the Transmigration System’s settings and turn off the plot! It had honestly been a little infuriating just how easy it had been, once he’d hit on the right combination of things to open the right settings menu. There may or may not have been a lot of outraged shrieking and frustrated crying, after all the sweat, blood, and tears he’d shed to become the head disciple of An Ding Peak. All Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had needed to do, in the end, was flick a few buttons from “on” to “off”. Outrageous. 

   “No more missions! No more restrictions! And no more bad endings for anyone! Ah, at least for everyone besides Huan Hua Palace Sect’s old master, that is… but, heh heh, I really think that I and the new Empress Su Xiyan can live with that,” Shang Qinghua muttered, then took a drink, wiggling deeper into his lounging and feeling very good about himself. 

   He felt as free as a bird! As free as the wind! Why shouldn't he celebrate his newfound freedom and future as a Cang Qiong Peak Lord by doing a little bit of nothing at all? 

  Shang Qinghua shamelessly did his best to become a lump. As he toasted to the distant happy couple and the bouncy baby protagonist on his way, with wine and melon seeds both, he removed all but one layer of clothing, tossed his belt and his jewelry on top of the pile, and yanked everything out of his hair. He slid from a sitting position to a totally horizontal one without realizing how it had happened, then he let heavy eyes fall closed with the knowledge that everything was going to be so much better now. 

   A person knew things were good when they could fall asleep just like this. 

   Then a burst of cold air startled him into looking up at a shadowy figure stepping out of nowhere above him. Shang Qinghua shrieked with terror. 

   "SHUT UP!” the shadow snarled. “Get up!” 

   “What- my king?!” 

   Mobei-Jun didn’t wait and grabbed Shang Qinghua by the front of his robes, hauling him to his feet. The wine sloshed against the floor and the melon seeds scattered around them. Shang Qinghua yelped, choked, and then wheezed and flailed, and then yelped again as his loose robes got a little looser with the rough handling and he slipped in Mobei-Jun's grip. 

   "What- get dressed!" Mobei-Jun snapped, and then dragged him into the bedroom right away. 

   "The sight of my naked chest offends you this much, bro?!" Shang Qinghua thought, stumbling along. "There's not enough room in this house for two tits-out outfits?! What the fuck is going on?!" 

   Mobei-Jun threw Shang Qinghua towards the dresser. He just barely managed to catch himself, taking a hard wooden edge to the gut and stubbing his toe on its base, instead of falling and concussing himself at least. Shit! It still hurt, though! 

   "Get dressed!" Mobei-Jun snapped again, pointing at the dresser for emphasis. "Now!" 

   "Right away! Right away, my king!" With shaking hands, his heart thundering in his ears, Shang Qinghua pulled out the first set of robes his fingers touched. 

   "Not those!" 

   "Aah!" 

   Shang Qinghua dropped the robes onto the floor. They were the regular everyday robes of an An Ding Peak disciple, plain and sturdy, something that the demon had seen him in many times before. 

   "Wh- what's wrong with th-these?" 

   "Too plain!" Mobei-Jun barked, and stalked forward to shove Shang Qinghua aside and go through the dresser himself. 

   Shang Qinghua stumbled away and took shelter near his bed, quickly retying his current robes to prevent another fucking nip-slip or worse. He watched with wide eyes as Mobei-Jun threw his clothing to the floor as not good enough. The next drawer was yanked open with so much strength that it splintered and tilted crookedly to one side. 

   "My king, why-?! What's happening?! Are- are we going somewhere?! Who does this servant have to impress?!" 

   Mobei-Jun finished throwing aside everything in this drawer and tried to shove it back in, but it was too broken to be moved. The demon snarled, yanked the entire drawer from the dresser with another terrible splintering sound, and threw the drawer out of his way. It hit Shang Qinghua in the chest and sent him sprawling back onto his bed. 

   He lay there and wheezed without shoving it away, just feeling the impact rattle through his ribs. He heard another drawer splinter. 

   "Ah, so this is how I die?" he thought. "Just as expected: with a bang AND a whimper." 

   He pushed the drawer to one side and sat up, only to be smacked in the face with the robes thrown at him. They were the nicest robes he owned. The An Ding Peak Lord had ordered them for him for the coming ascension of a new generation of Peak Lords, so they had all sorts of fancy embroidery and several heavy layers, which meant Shang Qinghua fell back against the bed again under their weight when they hit his head. He sat up again and then gawked at these robes he had never worn and wasn't supposed to wear yet- 

   "Tianlang-Jun." 

   "Aha, what?" Shang Qinghua looked at the demon lord scowling at him. "My king…? What about Tianlang-Jun…? This- no. What?! My king, you can't mean to take this servant before the Demon Emperor, that would be ridic-" 

   "Get dressed," Mobei-Jun snapped. 

   "It's not Tianlang-Jun, right? Why-?! What's really going on here? Are we going somewhere? Are we meeting someone?" 

   Shang Qinghua got to his feet, but he didn't dare put the fancy robes on, like being nearly naked would save him from being dragged off anywhere else. No amount of nice clothing would ever make the likes of this displaced author impressive to the likes of the OP Demon Emperor, finally sitting on his late sister's throne. 

   "This servant can't serve his king to the best of his abilities unless he knows what the-" 

   "My father is dead!" 

   “...Wh… what?” 

   Mobei-Jun’s expression was like a thunderstorm. Shadows curled around his clenched fists, as light and heat fled this room that was suddenly even smaller than Shang Qinghua remembered it being. 

   "My father…" Mobei-Jun repeated, slowly, daring Shang Qinghua not to understand a second time. "...is dead." 

   Shang Qinghua stared in horror, the robes slipping out of his hands, which itched to count all the years that had just been skipped even though he knew he didn't have enough fingers. Thirty years or so? Definitely more than twenty. His breath came out in a trembling fog as he demanded: 

   "H-how?!" 

   "Tianlang-Jun," Mobei-Jun said again, through gritted teeth. 

   Good point! Good point! Who the fuck else could it be? The real question was why the fuck?! And also what the fuck was Shang Qinghua of all people supposed to do about clashes between OP demon lords?! 

   Mobei-Jun advances on Shang Qinghua, the shadows in his fists writhing like he's strangling them. "Tianlang-Jun took offense to some of my clan's foolish disrespect towards his human Empress and he made an example of my father. He has threatened to destroy the body unless a suitable gesture is made." 

   "But… the power of your ancestors…" 

   Mobei-Jun, looming over him, shoved him down to his knees to pick up the robes he had dropped, and snarled: "Get dressed." 

   Shang Qinghua snatched up the robes and skittered away to dress himself up for the slaughter. His heart was racing fast, but his mind seemed to be going even faster, almost too fast to actually think and also do things like make sure clothes weren't inside-out as he put them on. 

   The power of the Mobei clan rested in the ascension ritual in which the new king "consumed" the body of the old king. Spiritually and… er… possibly also physically? Shang Qinghua had no idea if the System had picked up on those implications or not. Anyway, if Mobei-Jun's father's body was destroyed, then he wouldn't receive that power-up necessary to enforce his rule, which would make him the target of every ambitious cousin and every greedy neighbor. The Mobei clan would probably fall into civil war and the rest of the northern kingdoms would follow them into bloody battle. 

   Shang Qinghua's favorite character, currently glaring at him for the fancy clothes probably making him look even less fancy by comparison, was sure to die. Mobei-Jun's shitty uncle had probably already picked the poisoned knife with which to stab him in the back. 

    "My king… what… what gesture is being made here…? This servant… this servant really needs to know how he's supposed to be of service…" 

   Shang Qinghua also needed to know whether or not he needed to take the first available window to run away. He definitely wasn't above leaping out of literal windows. If Mobei-Jun intended on hanging him over to Tianlang-Jun as a human sacrifice or some shit, then promises of loyalty might expire a lot sooner than originally planned! 

   At the question, Mobei-Jun's expression only darkened and the room darkened again with it. The cold seemed to spread from Shang Qinghua's skin deep into his twisting chest.

   "Marriage," Mobei-Jun said, again through gritted teeth. "Tianlang-Jun has suggested marriage to a human as a worthy gesture." 

   "M-marriage?" 

   Mobei-Jun looked so fucking murderous that Shang Qinghua knew he hadn't misheard. He had to have misheard, though, because this was absurd. 

   "Marriage betw-between me and- and…?" 

   "Yes." 

   "And… you?" 

   "Yes." 

   Shang Qinghua should have been given an award for not fainting dead away. The System should have given him a million points for every second he managed to stay conscious, except… the System had essentially been turned off. No more points. No more plot. 

   No more Proud Immortal Demon Way plot, at least. 

   Ah, was this some kind of warped vacuum effect? A new plot come to take its place? 

   "There will be great riches." 

   Shang Qinghua refocused on the demon glaring at him. Riches?! What the fuck did riches have to do with anything right now?! 

   "Mobei Clan is the second strongest in the Demon Realm," Mobei-Jun informed him, but the demon was kind of scowling like he resented this now, instead of bragging. "You would not have to work again." 

   It was a really fucking weird day when being told that his Dream Guy wanted him and that he'd never had to work again was somehow bad news. It almost sounded like Mobei-Jun was… was… trying to persuade Shang Qinghua to marry him by offering wealth, power, and a life of indolence. All things that would tempt most people! Especially blindly greedy, thigh-hugging sect traitors like his character! 

   "Did… did Tianlang-Jun tell you… to just pick any human?" Shang Qinghua asked faintly. "There weren't… there weren't any requirements…?" 

   Clearly Mobei-Jun didn't want to be tied to Shang Qinghua of all humans! 

   "He asked - laughingly - if none of us knew any humans. I said that I did." 

   Okay, Shang Qinghua fully believed that Mobei-Jun didn't know any other humans. Mobei-Jun was on a deadline and didn't have time to go find the most acclaimed matchmaker or anything. By default, Shang Qinghua was the best, most handsome, most skillful, most wellborn, most desirable, and altogether most marriageable human Mobei-Jun knew - and he was not feeling super fucking thrilled by this victory. 

   "What… what did my king say about me..? What is the Demon Emperor expecting?" Shang Qinghua could only hope expectations had been set on the floor, preferably into the floor or maybe even underground. 

   "A disciple of Cang Qiong in my service." 

   "Oh…" 

   "Fix your robes." 

   "What? Oh, shit. Right away!" 

   Shang Qinghua didn't have a lot of experience wearing robes this nice and Mobei-Jun barking at him to look less like shit wasn't helping. The fact that he was sweating from nerves and his fingers were still shaking a little also wasn't helping. He skittered around to add tasteful ornaments and jewelry, some of which got violently rejected by Mobei-Jun as too ugly to show anyone, but looking down at himself, he mostly just felt like he was throwing shiny gold onto a pile of crap. How could this really fool anyone?  

   "My king, what… what am I supposed to say to the Demon Emperor? Do you want me to lie? To the Demon Emperor?!" 

   "Do not speak unless spoken to." 

   Sure, Shang Qinghua could do that, but was he really supposed to leave the talking to Mobei-Jun?! To Mobei-Jun?! The protagonist's right-hand man had not been known for his silver tongue! Did he think people weren't going to have questions? Like, "How the fuck do you know some random human?" Or, "Holy shit, you're really going to marry THAT one?" 

   "Isn't… my king, isn't Tianlang-Jun well known for his interest in humans and human stories… though...?" 

   Love stories! Shang Qinghua was pretty sure that the man loved a good love story! How the fuck were he and Mobei-Jun supposed to pull off a love story? And make it a love story compelling enough to convince a pissed-off Tianlang-Jun to grant the Mobei Clan mercy? Shang Qinghua wasn’t totally sure he was going to be able to do anything besides break down sobbing and curl up into a pathetic ball on the floor. 

   Mobei-Jun's face twisted slightly, in the way of an angry demon who didn't want to admit that his lowly human servant actually had a super great point. Tianlang-Jun had already proven himself a man who liked to play with his food a little. 

   "Do not tell some story," Mobei-Jun snarled finally. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not lie." 

   "Of course! Of course! Very wise not to lie to him!” Shang Qinghua told himself to focus on the logistics here; he was the logistics man; it was what he did. If he just kept focusing on the details, he didn’t have to think about the bigger picture. “This servant will remain silent until called upon, which… when… my king, when will that be? Tomorrow morning? I have to tell-" 

   "Now." 

  "-my martial sib- what?!" 

   "Now," Mobei-Jun repeated. "He is waiting." 

[kumzume]

glam ft. todoroki shotō [smhub]

wc. 2.8k :3

warnings. ownership, soft-ish!dom reader, edging, v v lowkey pet play (u call him bunny lol), quiet whiny shoto, begging, miss k*nk (?), slight humiliation k*nk, crying, um

an. SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HOLY S WORD I HOPE ITS OK I DIDNT GET ANYONE TO BETA IT SO IF THERE ARE ISSUES M SO SORRY LOVE YALL TY FOR WAITING

▼・ᴥ・▼

shoto todoroki was so pretty.

it wasn’t like he wasn’t aware — he’d heard the whispers amongst the girls back at U.A. about how attractive he was. that didn’t keep him from believing those words, his insecurities gripping him so tightly that he was unable to even imagine that anyone found him remotely appealing.

that is, until he met you.

when you first transferred into 3-A, the class was thrown into an uproar. you were beautiful, kind, and funny with a powerful quirk to boot! and yet, you never believed that you were better than anyone else, always treating every single person with respect — even bakugou (shoto couldn’t even pretend to understand how you did it but still, the behavior was so undeniably you).

it was all of your remarkable traits that ended up being shoto’s downfall. he believed you were way out of his league — you deserved someone emotionally available and sweet, things that todoroki felt, no knew, he was not. besides, with every single guy in the nearest vicinity falling for you, he knew he didn’t even have a chance.

so, shoto resigned himself to observe you from afar, watching your interactions with his closest friends and classmates, wishing that he could make you smile as wide as kirishima and deku or laugh as hard as sero and denki.

he knew he didn’t measure up and while he tried to make himself okay with that, he felt jealousy bubbling up beneath his skin when he observed shinsou helping you with your homework or bakugou training with you after school.

of course, he realized he didn’t belong to you or you to him and he had no real reason to be envious of whoever you chose to spend your time with but that didn’t stop him from fucking his hand late at night at the thought of you hovering over him, pressing soft kisses to his mangled scar and calling him beautiful.

shoto came embarrassingly quick with that fantasy, the shame and disappointment overwhelming him to the point where he’d purposefully ignored you for days after.

he could tell you were hurt by his behavior — he wasn’t entirely oblivious — but he knew it was for the best. you deserved so much more than him.

the both of you graduated and moved on to your respective agencies, shoto swiftly making his way up to the number 2 spot while you sat comfortably at number 17. neither of you saw each other very often but when you did, conversation was stilted and a bit awkward due to the intense attraction and inability to act on it on shoto’s part.

shoto was willing to go the rest of his life like this; seeing you briefly in passing, stumbling through a discussion with much difficulty, and then returning to his penthouse to hump his pillow and cry out your name.

it was a pretty good system for the most part. shoto had no worries about ever having to face his feelings for you and was content to live out his days suppressing his inner turmoil just for you.

unfortunately, the universe hates him.

at least that’s what he told himself as he stood in the center of a boardroom next to you, clad in your hero outfits and listening to instructions on an upcoming mission that required you and shoto to work together. alone. for days at a time.

what the fuck.

to be honest, shoto completely tuned out the minute he heard “one bedroom,” his mind racing with all the horribly tempting ways his fantasies could play out.

by the time the meeting was over, he was hard in his pants and entirely distracted as you attempted to make friendly small talk about your mission. shoto sort of felt like he should apologize for being an absolute brick wall, giving you curt one word answers until you decided to leave him alone.

he felt bad but what else could he do when you stood there, wearing your obscene hero costume that revealed way too much of your skin?

well, shoto was being a little dramatic but that’s how he felt! your suit was a play on the playboy bunny costume but instead of being black leather (he thinks he would actually die if you wore leather in front of him), it was a white, lightweight fabric that helped with your quirk.

it was entirely too sexy and reminded him a little too much of one of his secret kinks that he was determined to never let see the light of day.

it was going to be ok! he reasoned. all he had to do was do his job, ignore you like he’s done for the past 3 years and everything would be just fine — right?

wrong. so fucking wrong.

the mission had gone well on all accounts. you both had kicked ass, much to your enjoyment, and were able to go back home a day early!

you were so excited to finally be back in your own bed and away from the weird tension that being around todoroki brought. it wasn’t that you didn’t like him — in fact it was quite the opposite.

you found shoto alluring and gorgeous, his awkward yet endearing mannerisms drawing you further into the mystery that was shoto todoroki. regrettably, it didn’t seem like the man in question was on the same page.

every time you tried to speak with him, he would either stutter and blush or refuse to look you in the eye and give you one-word answers. it was actually ridiculously cute but he would always disappear the first chance he got.

it hurt but you weren’t one to push boundaries where you weren’t wanted.

that’s why that night, instead of going back up to the room to watch tv (uncomfortably, might i add) and knocking yourself out, you decided to go down to the bar and celebrate a job well done.

one of the perks of being a relatively unknown hero was that you could enjoy a night in public without anyone approaching you, a luxury you knew not many top 20 heroes could afford.

with that thought — and the memory of the stifling hotel room awaiting you upstairs — in mind, you made your way to the sparsely populated bar, sitting down and immediately requesting a drink (bourbon, on the rocks).

you scanned the area, counting the number of exits and patrons before your eyes landed on the handsome bartender down at the other end of the counter.

with curly brown hair, bright green eyes and a smile that could kill, there was no way you could lie to yourself and say he was unattractive. even as your mind briefly entertained the notion of taking the brunette out into the alley and fucking him within an inch of his life, your heart just wasn’t in it.

your mind just couldn’t stop drifting to the tall, dual-haired, oh so pretty, man who was (inadvertently) waiting for you upstairs. of course, you weren’t even his to wait for but you didn’t know how to keep from imagining that he was.

a deep sigh escaped your parted lips before you downed the rest of your drink, wincing at the burn it left as it went down your throat. it was getting late and you weren’t planning on spending your night alone with the janitor.

you sent the cute bartender a soft smile while pressing a crisp $20 to the counter. he sent you his own grin back as his eyes trailed down your body clad in your tight hero suit, licking his plump lips in arousal.

you were flattered, truly, but you were a little occupied with getting back to your room, changing into some comfortable pajamas and conking the fuck out.

the trip back up to your room was long and arduous to your sore body, the elevators being out of commission leaving you to take the stairs.

by the time you were at your door, you were so worn out that you were ready to collapse but before you could manage placing your key against the lock, something caught your ear.

“p-please miss,” a breathy moan of your name followed by a wet slapping noise rang out through the door. “i’ll be your perfect bunny, just let m-me cum, please-!!”

holy fuck.

shoto todoroki, the man you’d been crushing on since your years at UA was now touching himself to the thought of you doing god know what to him and he was calling you miss?

you felt heat flood your core, your knees buckling under the heavy weight of your lust. now braced against the door, you leaned your ear against the wood, determined to hear exactly what was getting him off.

more wet noises permeated through the walls — did he just spit in his palm??? — before a long whine left his pretty pink lips.

“m-miss, i belong to you, y-you own me,” he gasped, the creaking of the bed just barely audible beneath his wavering voice.

by now, you knew you’d soaked through the crotch of your hero costume, your clit throbbing painfully beneath the fabric of your panties. you also knew you should turn around, head back to the bar and order another drink, leaving shoto to finish himself off but you couldn’t.

your feet were implanted in place, ear glued against the door as you listened to your partner masturbate to the thought of you owning him.

quietly, you lifted the hand gripping your key to the door, allowing the touchpad to register before slowly pushing the door open.

the sight that greeted you was otherworldly.

the blinds were parted allowing a dreamy haze of moonlight to envelop the room, casting the pale man before you in a somehow whimsical light.

he was stripped down to nothing, lying on his back with a hand wrapped around his gorgeous, swollen cock, furiously stroking himself to completion.

the plump lips that you had spent so much time admiring were parted, allowing whines and whimpers to leave them sporadically as his lithe hips bucked up into his hand.

shoto’s eyes were clenched shut so he was unable to see your dumbfounded, painfully aroused face as you crept into the room, leaning against the wall with your hand pressed to your mouth.

it wasn’t as though you’d never seen a man naked before — you’d had your fair share of men naked in your bed begging for you — but this was something else.

this was shoto — somehow more intimidating than anyone else you’d ever brought to bed and yet you’ve never wanted anyone more.

which is why you were almost surprised at yourself when you opened your mouth and whispered, “stop.”

immediately, shoto’s eyes shot open, wide with fear and apprehension as he lied there frozen, his hand still wrapped tightly around his girth.

the both of you stood there staring at one another, neither of you able to move. you let yourself have this moment to look at him, your eyes tracking all over his muscular form before landing on his length, not missing how it twitched under your gaze.

“i-“ shoto started but he was quickly interrupted by your own voice. “s’this what you do when i’m gone? touch yourself to the thought of me? you’re so dirty bunny.”

it was impossible to hide the low groan that echoed out in the hotel room, shoto’s cheeks burning red in humiliation. a grin crept across your face as you made your way towards him, giggling to yourself at the way he moved up and away from you on the bed.

“now you’re trying to hide, bunny? you weren’t hiding when you were moaning out my name.” your hand slid up his thigh until it was resting on his sharp hipbone, an abrupt gasp leaving his chest.

your hand continued its trajectory, fingers trailing across his tummy before coming to wrap around the base of his cock.

“o-oh fuck, miss—“ a thick drop of precum leaked from his slit and onto your awaiting hand as a low moan departed from the dual-haired boy.

one of his hands shot out to hold yours, drawing your attention to his heterochromatic gaze. shoto’s eyes held so much emotion, small tears already littering his lashline while the moonlight illuminated his crimson scar. he was ethereal.

“pretty,” you hummed, giving him a gentle smile while your hand squeezed his in reassurance. you’d had enough experience to know that that kind of comment was guaranteed to get some kind of vulnerability but what you were not expecting was the expletive shoto muttered before leaning forward to press his lips to yours.

immediately, he was over-enthusiastic, his lips and teeth clashing with yours messily, almost painfully, before you took control of the kiss, slowing shoto down before slipping your tongue inside his mouth.

his quiet groan vibrated into the kiss as you deliberately laid him down, resting his back against the pillows. from there, you had more access to his body, your lips trailing down to his neck while your hand took its place back on his length, lazily pumping him up and down.

“m-miss!” shoto choked, his eyes widening yet again, holding you with his stare. you chose not to respond, instead stroking him quicker while pressing kisses to his shoulder.

“miss,” he tried again, this time more deliberately. “p-please tell me i’m yours...”

with him asking so sweetly, a few tears leaking from his gorgeous eyes at the overwhelming moment, how were you supposed to deny him?

“of course bunny,” you purred, leaning down to peck his nose, sending shivers through his body. “you are mine.”

shoto’s reaction was instantaneous. his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth dropped open as he felt his pleasure begin to crest, determined to push him over the edge.

you, of course, noticed his body’s response and quickly pulled your hand off of him, painfully ripping his orgasm from his grasp. a disappointed whimper resonated throughout the room as shoto’s eyes found yours, staring at you with such betrayal that you almost found it funny.

“c’mon bunny,” you moved until you were kneeling between his legs, your hands leaving featherlight touches to his inner thighs. “you can hold out for me, right?”

shoto nodded before he could stop himself, desperate for anything you would give him.

besides, it couldn’t be that hard to hold off, right?

...

wrong. so very wrong.

it had only been 30 minutes but it felt like 2 hours since you started playing with him and keeping him from coming.

shoto was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, both hands tangled in his bi-colored locks, eyes squeezed shut with tear tracks now drying on his cheeks and his cock standing fully at attention.

it was purple, throbbing, and covered in precum as you licked a stripe up the side making shoto sob in pleasure.

he had never been harder in his life and he was certain that he would just die if you didn’t let him cum soon.

“p-please, please, miss, please, let me cum,” he babbled, shaking his head mindlessly while bucking his hips up into the warm heat of your mouth.

you chose to ignore his pleas while you moved your mouth over his tip, sucking hard while your hand pumped what wasn’t in your mouth.

“a-ah-!!” shoto shrieked, his back bowing off the bed, his orgasm coming on so hard and so fast that he felt like he was going to explode. “c-can’t hold back m-miss, i can’t, i can’t!”

your hand continued to pick up speed before you pulled your mouth off of him, toying with his tip while leaning up to breathe into his ear.

“cum for me bunny. you’re mine.”

with a cry of your name, shoto came, thick spurts of cum covering his abs, chest and thighs as his body convulsed under the weight of his bliss.

it was the most all encompassing orgasm he’d ever had and you, his former classmate, current partner, and future lover, was beside him through it all, helping him ride it out.

in the back of his mind, shoto knew he should be at least a little worried about how your relationship was going to change after all of this but he couldn’t bring himself to care. you were here and now, bringing him the most pleasure he’d ever undergone with nothing but kind words and a smile, filling his touchstarved heart with heat and, dare he say it, love.

shoto may not have been the funniest or the most open but you chose him, even if it was just for the night. and now that he unlocked how much he loved you, nothing else mattered — just you and him.

as he collapsed back into the sheets, his head just barely registering the cool rag wiping him down, he took pride in how he finally admitted it to himself; shoto loved you and he would be damned if he let anyone else take him away from you.

now, all he had to do was tell you but that was a conversation for another day.

▼・ᴥ・▼

taglist. if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you!!

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[jakey-beefed-it]

Lengthy Stellaris story under the cut. Would make a pretty decent space opera tbh.

So one of the various crises that can pop up in the end game of Stellaris is an extradimensional invasion. A big ol rip opens up in spacetime in one star system, and marauding fleets of energy beings come pouring out in all directions, hellbent on devouring sapient beings for whatever reason. This necessarily happens in the last third of the game, so post 2400, generally.

I was playing my Good Humans, who had expanded to control about a quarter of the galaxy and were in a federation with another couple empires which between them controlled another quarter or so. Sometime around 2300, the marauder empire to my galactic south unified under their Genghis Khan equivalent, so I had to stamp that out, thus militarizing far further. From the wreckage of their flagship I got a relic that, among other things, boosts attraction to the ‘militant’ ethic among my population.

Sometime around 2350, the big religious zealot Fallen Empire to the far galactic northeast decides it’s going to start burning the fleets and planets of my Federation allies because they settled on one or more of their ‘holy worlds’ which, you know, if they’re your holy worlds, maybe settle them yourselves or at least put up a warning sign? 

So by now enough people have embraced the militant ethos that my government has shifted from ‘Representative Democracy’ to ‘Military Commissariat’ with about even emphasis on egalitarianism, xenophilia, and militarism. This gives me a boost to army recruitment and fleet building.

Doing a quick count of available fleet power, between ALL of my fleets, I have like 150k. The aforementioned Fallen Empire has just over 200k. In a single fleet. Fuck.

Well, let it not be said that we abandon our allies in their time of need. My officers made ready, the crews bade their families goodbye with an air of grim resolve, and I dispatched the fleets. We invaded the Fallen Empire’s home system with only a space station to defend it. Even that kinda mauled one of my fleets before we subdued it, but such is war against a hopelessly more advanced species. I landed troops on both of their planets in that system, and waited for the counterattack.

It... never came.

They were so fucking busy rampaging around my poor allies that they just sorta... forgot... about their own systems. By the time they seemed to notice, I had conquered virtually all their planets. They finally did send the fleet back, which I met in battle while simultaneously invading their last planet.

My fleets fought valiantly, but even punching well above their weight thanks to the Great Khan’s throne relic and every temporary boost I could throw at them, they were scattered and much reduced. The Fallen Empire’s fleet, however, was also greatly reduced. Such that after I took their last planet and control of its defenses... they had no hope of breaching those defenses to land troops on any of their planets. They surrendered, and I took direct control of their space so that this could never happen again. My brave crews’ sacrifices would not be in vain.

I discovered a lot of tech from the wreckage of the Fallen Empire’s ships and stations. A lot. Such that I was, within 20 years, able to rebuild all my fleets much, much stronger than before. Each fleet now had a power of about 80k, bringing the total to almost 700k. I also discovered jump drive. I was rebuilding a full five fleets in spaceports in or neighboring Sol, plus three more at various far-flung points to act as first response forces.

So then the extradimensional guys show up. They open a tear into one of my inhabited systems, smash its station defenses, and prepare to fall upon the undefended planets and feast upon their billions of citizens.

Except they made one big mistake. The system they came into was in jump range for all five of my newest biggest most advanced fleets. Each of which was about twice as strong as their fleets. Of which they had about six.

Just imagining the pants-shitting terror of waiting to be devoured by the circling energy beings when literally out of nowhere five fleets, each with a titan-sized dreadnought in the lead, jump into the system and immediately fucking obliterate the invaders.

For singlehandedly solving the endgame crisis in like sixty seconds of gameplay, everyone’s opinion of me shot way way up. So I recruited like half of the galaxy to our Federation. 

The game doesn’t ‘end’ until 2500 but there’s no more crises and my dude if that’s not a satisfying ending for your space opera idk what is. Like my dude I just fought off the equivalents of the klingons and the vorlons, the extradimensional energy Reapers ain’t shit.

[staygolddindjarin]

Grief

Chapter two: Rebellion

Din Djarin x Reader x Cassian Andor

Series Summary: Raised on Mandalore, born into a bloodline of warriors, no one ever expected for the daughter of a Clan leader to go rogue. Leaving the life of security and making the journey to fight in the war against the empire meant many things... giving up the way of the Mandalore, and giving up a solid future. A future that involves an arranged marriage to a foundling from another clan.

Chapter warnings: some brief angst, this ones pretty mellow ngl

Words: 3.3k

A/n: i was not expecting such a good response from the first chapter but bruh you guys are amazing- anyway here's part two of my brain's misery

Part 2/?

The trip from Mandalore to the planet of Dantooine was long, and still ongoing. We all took turns, watching to see if we were any closer. After each jump from hyperspace, the transport would stop at a space refueling tank, before slowly going onward toward the destination. We must have been traveling several systems across the galaxy. We had a few laughs, mainly while watching Gander try and steal Shyloh's food from his knapsack while he was sleeping. Most of the other time we all just sat in silence, up until this point.

"What do you think we're all going to do once we get to the rebel base?" Merc raised his voice slightly, barely capturing our attentions as we had all been dozing off, and Shyloh was taking watch at the view point.

"What do you mean?" I had asked, not quite sure of what he was getting at. I sat up straighter against the wall, showing my interest in the newfound conversation.

"What branch do you think you'll end up in?" He was in a daze as he spoke, almost unsure of his intentions of bringing it up. His dark eyes were nearly emotionless under his furrowed brow.

"I hadn't really thought about it. I would say maybe something like mechanics," I said, thinking of the best possible use of my talents. I'm sure there's plenty of mechanical help already assisting the rebels, but with the galactic empire growing it's forces by the day, they needed all the help they could get.

"What about flying?" Shyloh perked up from his seat at the window.

"What about it?" I asked, curious as to why he suddenly thought of the new topic.

"You could do it of you wanted to. Be a pilot, I mean. You have the skills," He told me, but I scoffed. He wasn't in any way shape or form was making an ounce of sense at all.

"Speeder control races are a bit different from piloting fighters against the imperial troops don't you think?" I laughed at the idea, but he rolled his eyes, persistent with his opinion.

"It's less different than you think it is. Also mind you, I never saw you lose a race," He objected, but I wasn't having any of it.

"That's because when I raced, my own credits were on the line," I joked, seeing what he would try and come up with next, only to be met with a cold hard stare, before an answer that would shake me to my core.

"Well, now the freedom of the galaxy is on the line."

My smile dropped from my face and I turned to face the other two, who were looking back at me. They didn't expect that answer either. Shyloh was well known to be a boy of few words, and only really spoke to his friends and family. He was a founding just like the rest of them, but he had been with ths clan longer, due to having been saved from a war infested home as a baby.

He could sometimes be very wise, even if he didn't think he was being so. We weren't sure what it was, but he had this sort of presense that was so powerful. We knew when he would walk in a room, or walk out of it. It's like the air would change. Much like it changed now, with his words rendering us all speechless.

The silence was uncomfortable, and I was the one who left it unresloved, so I spoke up in favor of my crewmates to not keep quiet any longer.

"Perhaps I shall see where I am needed first."

"Perhaps you shouldn't be so afraid to explore an option you would excel in," He again rendered me speechless, and I did not have anything else to say this time. I was young, but my mind was not. I could comprehend thoughts the same way that an adult could. I could handle things just as well and if not better than some, too. He was right. I was simply afraid.

"I think we're finally here," Shyloh said, turning back to look out of the view port again.

"Its about time," Gander stood up, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and standing at the transport door waiting for it to slide up.

We all followed suit, but Shyloh stopped us and held up a warning finger to stay still.

"There's manding droids, we gotta sneak off carefully. They don't look like bulk but they could be armed," He suggested. We were not yet at the rebel base, meaning these were probably droids of the land, and belonged to whoever oversees the exports on this planet.

When the panel opened, we were all careful to first peek out of the transport. This planet was nothing at all like Mandalore, which was dry and hot. This planet was lush with plants. And the air was slightly humid. It was a very welcome contrast from where I spent most of my life.

We all sneakily bolted out of the transport, ducking down behind one of the cargo units placed outside. We saw an opening in what looked like some sort of forrest patch.

There was a chill in the air on this planet, even in the middle of the day. Mandalore only ever got colder at night, when the sun was down and the moons were shining.

"That was close." Merc mumbled as we began to turn around and head into the grasslands, trying to find the rebel base.

We made sure no one was behind us, and were careful to check if any droids had caught sight of us.

We all went to turn around, but as soon as I did, I collided with someone's chest, rather hard might I add, sending me to the ground on my bottom. I didn't even collide that hard with the person, it was just the shock that sent me backwards.

"Need a hand?" I looked up to see a man, a sly smirk on his face as he held his hand out towards me. I took it without question, heaving myself up from the grassy, and somewhat muddy ground beneath me.

"You must be our contact," Merc smiled, and the man nodded, turning and begining to lead us to a speader that was hovering nearby behind a large set of trees.

"We must be careful not to use names outside of the base. I would be more than happy to formally introduce myself once we reach our final destination," He chuckled. It was only now that I realized he had an accent, a thick one. Probably left over from his native tongue that spilled out his mouth when he spoke galactic basic.

I know that sometimes my accent slips in when i speak. I never had to worry about using Mando'a around my fellow crewmates. They were foundlings, and hadn't been raised to speak it. Shyloh was, but he prefered to use galactic basic anyways because he had forgotten so much of it.

We all boarded the speader, Gander and I sitting on the back, our legs hanging off as we held onto the side bars.

"This might be a bumpy ride for you two," The man said, looking at both of us before giving me a wink. I scrunched my face up, not sure how else to react to it. The man was definitely on the younger side, but I wasn't sure how he could possibly see an interest in me.

Maybe he did and I just didn't want him to. Maybe I was still hinged to the idea that I would go back to Mandalore someday and marry my betrothed. I was so young, and hadn't the slightest idea of what feelings I could possibly be harboring, if any at all.

I couldn't deny I found him appealing. Anyone would, at least any human with eyes that is.

His hair was dark, and so were his eyes. He had a bit of stubble along his jaw and above his lip. He was somewhat scruffy looking, but in a good way.

As the speeder went through the forresty stretch of pathway, I kept turning around to catch a glimpse of him. Each time I did I had to look away fast because Gander would give me weird stares.

I would play it off like I was simply taking in the view of the green planet around me, and he wouldn't seem to notice.

After a while, with quite a few twists and turns, and Gander and I nearly falling off the speeder twice, we arrived to our destination.

We all hopped out of the transport, following the man into a giant cargo port. As soon as I looked to my left I could see an X-wing fighter in all it's glory. I had never seen a real one before, just heard stories and viewed holograms.

"Alright. We have about twelve other recruits arriving on this base today, so you will all be attending orientation this evening. As for right now, you look beat, and should rest. PX-74 will assign you to your bunks," He said, gesturing to the droid before beginning to walk away with a nod, but I stopped him before he could take a step.

"Wait a minute... I believe I recall something about a formal introduction," I crossed my arms over my chest and shifted my weight, trying to give off the look of having as much confidence as I could muster. I was putting on a facade, possibly to make me seem more mature. I didn't know the real reason.

He smirked, raising an eyebrow as he scanned me up and down with his dark eyes.

"Cassian Andor," He smiled, then looking right back at me with questioning eyes. "And how about you... you got a name?"

"Y/n from clan Maldrix," I said, my confidence wavering a little when he looked at me the way that he did.

"She's a Mandalorian," Shyloh perked up, and I sent him a warning glare.

"Yeah, sixth generation," Merc added, his cocky smile pasted on his face for all to see and be annoyed by.

"A mandalorian? I've heard the stories but I haven't ever met one. Are you-?"

"I'm not," I cut him off before this got twisted into one big lie. "My mother and father are."

"Doesn't that make you one too?" Cassian furrowed his brow but his tone was somewhat joking and humorous.

"No, it does not," I wasn't harsh with the way my voice came out, but I was firm. Though I wasn't one of them, the mandalorians and all they stood for were very important to me.

"Mandalorian is not a race, it's a creed. Some of the best Mandalorians I ever had the pleasure of knowing didn't even have a bloodline from Mandalore. They were foundlings, like these three," I explained, laying out the facts so that there was no longer any confusion lingering, but now there was a tension that was thicker than the trees on this planet.

"Even still, she can fight just as good as any soldier taken the creed," Merc jumped in, trying to clear the air, and thankfully, it seemed to be working.

"She flies even better," Shyloh mentioned, and I swore I could kill him. He was just so pushy sometimes, even with his massive sense of wisdom.

"You fly?" This peaked Andor's interest, and immediately he seemed more engaged towards me.

"I'm not as good as they say I am," I admitted, but he shook his head.

"No, really... if you can fly we could really use you. We're putting together a team for an air raid that's set to happen about one month's time from now," He came up closer to me and stared me in the eye.

"I'm just a kid, I might really let you down," I joked, trying not to get too caught up in his eye contact. His eyes were much darker when you could see them closely.

"I tell you what, I can arrange for you to have time in the flight simulator after orientation. If we feel you would be an asset, we can add you to the strike team," He said, nodding along to his words. I understood that they might need backup, and if push came to shove, I could maneuver faster than any pilot back on Mandalore. I never lost a race, nor did I ever lose a bet.

"Okay."

I could tell I was blushing from the extra attention I was receiving. I wasn't so sure what about me was so enticing that I deserved it.

"I have to go now to pick up the other recruits from a drop station. I leave you in the capable hands of PX-74," He said, returning to his speeder and letting us be lead off into the base.

"There are only so many open bunks left. Two of you will share one, and the other two will be placed with bunk mates." The metalized voice of the PX unit was strong in our ears, and we all followed after him as we ventured into the long hallway at the end of the cargo port.

The droid stopped at a door about midway through the hall and opened it using the side panel on the wall, revealing a young man that seemed almost younger than me even.

"One of you will be staying here. Which will it be?" The droid asked, turning towards our small group.

"I'll take this one," Shyloh said, stepping forward into the bunk to meet his new roomate.

The boy looked a bit frightened at first, but because of Shyloh's powerful yet calming energy, he seemed to relax almost immediately.

He turned and smiled back at us, waving before the IG unit closed the door and kept us going.

He walked us down passed several more doors, maybe more than twenty, before he stopped at another one and opened it up.

Inside sat a young woman, her legs crossed as she sharpened a knife with a smirk on her face. She looked up and made eye contact with me first.

"I wondered how long it would be before they got someone else in here." Her voice was somewhat low and raspy, but it was kind of soothing in a way.

"One of you-" the IG unit began again, but I stopped him, stepping into the bunk with the girl inside.

"I'll take this one." I smiled at the two boys left before the door closed on my new bunk.

I moved to set my knapsack down on the bottom bunk, but my roomate stopped me.

"Bottom one's mine." She said, looking up from her sharpened knife again to inform me of the sleeping arrangements.

I instead threw my knapsack on the top bunk, trying to climb up into it, but failing miserably.

"You need a hand?" She chuckled, watching my lame attempts to swing my leg up high enough. The fact that there was no ladder should have tipped me off.

"I'll be okay, thanks," I laughed, keeping my attitude loose and positive, though this bunk bed was already causing unnecessary problems for me.

"If you say so," She chuckled again, seeing as I finally managed to haul myself up and onto the bed.

"First try," I joked, and she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. I think that we would be getting along, because no one ever laughed at my lame sense of humor.

I laid back, resting my arms behind my head and staring blankly at the ceiling.

"So, where are you from?" She piped up, not taking her eyes away from her previous knife. That thing must mean a lot to her.

"Mandalore," I let out, trying to get comfortable on this lumpy pad that was under my head.

"Actually?" She seemed surprised. Everyone had heard of the planet that the mandalorian tribes had resided upon, and usually they understood what kind of people the place would breed.

"Yeah. Left just in time. Tomorrow's my birthday," I shut my eyes continuing our converastion with one less sense. It didn't matter, though. I was still fully awake.

"What would you have had to do?" She pondered curiously, finally looking up towards the bunk in interest.

"Well, to put it short... tomorrow I would have had to swear my freedom away. No living being would ever be able to see my face again till the day I died," I laid it out plain and simple, and she seemed to understand.

"How old are you?" She asked, her trail of questions getting longer and longer.

"Sixteen tomorrow," I answered, feeling a bit more tired now that my eyes had been closed, and the lights in the bunk rooms were dim.

"You're just a baby," She scoffed. "How could they possibly expect you to make that choice so young?"

"It's just the way it's always been there. This is the way," I remembered. Those words used to be said to me nearly ten times a day, and now they only rung in my mind as a memory.

"That's insane. The people on your planet must be crazy to take an oath like that," She muttered.

"You would think so... the strangest part about it is that there are kids brought back as foundlings that take the creed without hesitation. They don't even belong to a bloodline, they just feel as though they have right to the creed as much as anyone else," I silently remembered Din for a moment. He was the bravest, strongest, most loyal Mandalorian I'd ever known. A foundling.

I began to get bitter at the thought of leaving him. He could have made things better for me if I had just given him a chance. I had to let my head get in the way. I needed to think about something else.

"What about you, huh? Where you from?" I asked, changing the subject as quickly and painlessly as possible.

"Alderaan. Born and raised," She said, getting up from the floor and dropping herself on the bottom bunk.

"You been a lot of places since then?" I asked, but she first let out a heavy sigh before speaking.

"Only too many to count," She said, settling herself on the bunk like I had done.

"Must be nice..." I muttered. Finally able to relax on this pathetic excuse for a bed pad. Of course I couldn't complain. I'm the one who chose the life of the rebellion, including their miserable bedding. "I've never been anywhere outside my home planet until now. I haven't even seen the entirety of my own planet."

"Most new comers are the same. They haven't been anywhere else, then they come here and its like we're moving non stop. Base to base, on just about every planet in this galaxy," She reassured. At least now I didn't feel so out of place.

"How long have you been stationed here?" I asked, unsure of how long I would get to adjust to things.

"A few months. It's likely we'll have to leave soon. There's rumors of the imperials knowing our location," She answered, rolling her eyes, thought I couldn't see from the top bunk.

"You're kidding," I scoffed. After just getting here, I might have to up and leave again. I'll have to learn to accept this new life, it's what I wanted.

"I wish I was, kid," She added.

"I have a name," I retorted back, not a fan of the nickname 'kid'. I waited for her to ask me what it was, but when she stayed silent I sighed. "It's Y/n."

"I'll call you what you are... now get some rest, they'll come pounding on that door in a few hours for orientation," She said, as though she somehow had grown to a habit of mothering me only five minutes after we met. I dropped the conversation and drifted off to sleep, my eyes were too heavy to keep open anymore anyway.

.

.

Tags open

A/n: okay so like i wrote this a while before everything with gina carano happened and i do not in any way condone her whatsoever so let's pretend she's been recast already...

[saturatedboy]

Hai! I have another request ( if it's okay ) can you do a donna x fem pirate reader where Donna is just wondering around with Angie when she found a portal to another dimension that leads to a beach where the reader's ship is alongside the shore then they went to inspect it but ended up being caught by the crew and brought her to the captain of the ship ( which is the reader )

Donna Beneviento X F!Reader

Quick talk, this will be in two parts. I missed some of your idea to keep for the next part because I had ended up getting caught in writing this that I completely forgot to check through the request again. My deepest apologise for that but I promise to have the next part up soon.

Part 2- https://saturatedboy.tumblr.com/post/657437883445166080/donna-beneviento-x-fempiratereader

Requests: Open

Words: 3k

The fragrance of sugar and chocolate had diffused around the small room. Sat back in her chair was none other that Lady Beneviento, Donna. Brining the china cup up to her slightly chapped lips, she sipped the Earl Grey tea and sighed in delight as the steaming liquid ran down into her stomach system. Gently placing her cup down, she looked to the other side of the small round table that was surrounded by nature's plants. At the other end was Angie, the doll, chewing down on some Victorian sponge cake. Donna raised her dainty hand to her lips to hide the small smile that had sketched itself onto her face. Keeping her lips pursed together, she held in the chuckle that threatened to escape from Angie having some icing around her mouth. Pushing the chair out, the metal scraping amongst the wooden floor, Donna had raised herself out from her chair and walked over to Angie, picking up a napkin that was settled in the middle of the table.

Making her way towards Angie, she took the doll's head within her hand and dapped at the white smooth icing that had coated her mouth. "I know you can't feel but please do try to be careful when eating." Donna spoke softly, folding the used napkin up and placing it next to Angie's now finished plate.

"Yeah yeah, I know. But now we have had our afternoon tea, I think it's time for an adventure!" Gliding up from her own chair this time, which was stacked with books so Angie could reach the table when sat, the doll had grabbed it's toymakers hand and whooshed out through the many corridors.

"Angie, I wasn't finished with my drink," The whine came from Donna's mouth, her veil flying behind her unmasked  face as she tried her best to keep up with her doll's quick speed when flying. Angie however completely ignore the cries of Donna and dragged her to he front of the manor by the cloak rack. A stern look had edged its way onto Donna's features as she was still upset about her tea going cold.

"I will make you more after a walk in the woods!" Angie swirled herself around the cloak rack and grabbed a black cloak for Donna to ear. Twirling herself around Donna, Angie placed the cloak on and tied the front into a bow. "There now lets go!" Donna shook her head slowly and flipped her veil over her face, only to follow Angie out of the manor, still wishing she could of finished her cup of tea.

"10 green bottles on a wall...10 GREEN BOTTLES ON A WALL!" Donna mentally screamed in her head as she listened to Angie scream. Although her behaviour would be accepted in the manor, Donna was very against of any attention outside her territory, which to her was mostly the manor.

"Angie, please keep it down a little," She whispered, closing her eyes as she followed the familiar path through her woods. Angie groaned loudly and dropped her arms to place weight onto her float. She let her eyes turns about as she started to spin in the air to give herself entertainment since she wasn't allowed to be loud.

"Spinning I am, spinning indeed." Angie talked to herself as she continued spinning, completely unaware of Donna having her eyes closed behind her veil as she herself was subconsciously following Angie's voice. As Angie was spinning, being unaware of her surroundings, she came connected to a rather large tree that had branches sprouting far and wide. "OW!" She screeched, altering Donna of the sudden pain. Donna opened her eyes and hurried towards Angie who was now sat on the dirt floor looking up at what she knocked into. "WOAH!" She cried out as she was back up floating around the large trunk. "When were you going to tell me you have a huge tree!?" She questioned Donna, circling around the trunk once and gliding towards Donna to settle onto her shoulder.

"I...didn't." Much just like Angie, Donna was also curious about the tree. She knew her territory like the back of her hand and she was more than sure that this tree had just came out of nowhere. Kneeling down onto the slightly soggy dirt, she inspected the large roots that were coted in a slimy orange substance. Dragging a finger through the slime, she fiddled with it between her index and thumb. "How strange, I haven't seen anything like this before."

"Oooooo maybe it's magic!" Angie threw her hands wide, her head doing a full 360 as she wriggled herself about on Donna's shoulder. Donna wiped the substance off her fingers onto the ground, pulling herself back onto her feet as she stared through her black veil at the now growing orange. "Erm Donna, what did you do?" Angie asked, watching as the orange had sprouted its way higher up the tree from the roots, to the trunk and so on, accompanied by a slight rumbling erupting from what sounded like inside the trunk.

"I have no idea Angie!" Shielding herself and Angie with her hands by crouching and hugging Angie close, Donna closed her eyes as the orange glow grew lighter and brighter in colour, changing into a warm white. She felt her body became much warmer as her head began to spin. Not knowing what was going on, she felt the faint touch of breeze brushing through her cloak. Letting herself fall onto her side, Angie still in grasp, Donna curled around and let whatever was going on to happen.

"-off mine. Go scrub the lower decks Decker."

"And why should I! I was only takin' a look!" Donna groaned as she felt the sudden feel of sickness wash over her body. She curled tighter as she felt like her body was swaying side to side. Trying to pride her eye open, she was met with the once darkness she had remember seeing from when she was first experimented on with the Cadou. A deep feeling of fear washed over her

"Because I'm the captain and you don't want to make the Captain angry now do ya boy?" Donna's fear increased at the sound of the voice. It was dripping in venom and threats that even she felt frightened of. The voice wasn't familiar either and the accent was one she hadn't heard before, Donna could've swore she knew everyone from the village, even the small children that had wished to see her to make flowers crowns with her when the festivals would be around.

"No ma'am-"

"Captain Decker. I am your Captain. Now off ye go boy before I get Slasher on ya. Beat it." The noise of heavy footprints had sped past Donna's head as she kept still, trying to keep her breathing to a minable. As far as she was now aware, whoever this captain was should be the only person left with her- wait no. Angie....where was Angie? More heavy footprints has walked past her head but whoever this pair has stopped right next to her head. Donna kept still on her side, not daring to even open her eyes in fear her veil may not be covering her face.

Silence was between all of them.

...

"I know you're awake~" The same voice, the Captain's voice this time was right above her ear making Donna squirm under the heat that came from the mouth. Shaking in anticipation, Donna shot her upper body up and pulled her knees to her chest, feeling small against the new person she has came in contact with. Looking up and keeping her eyes wide, she was in complete utter shock. In front of her stood a rather tall woman. Above average height she would compare her height to. Her hair was knotted, having a large Tricorn hat with a white feather place amongst the small nest of hair. A wide grin with small sharp teeth was scarred on the face of the female. She stood tall, a sword hanging from her hip with a long tail coat in white covered her body mostly with the front being open wide. Underneath the tail coat was a white waist coat, hugging the figure perfectly. White tights were worn with brown boots that reached the knee area. Donna's mind flicked to one word and one word only,

Pirate. Just like in the many stories she had read to Angie in the past. In front of her was a pirate, and a good looking one too in her eye. "Say there lassie, ye a long way from home ain't ya?" She spoke loudly, a chuckle rumbling her chest as she stared down at Donna. Donna was beyond speechless, did she transport world? Pirates were made up stories, they belonged in a book but the tree....the tree.

"Donnaaaaaaa," A satisfied sigh left Donna's mouth as she heard the familiar voice of her partner in crime. Looking around her space trying to find where she was, Donna saw blue the surrounded the scratch wood she was on. Looking back at the female pirate, she saw behind her an upper deck that had led to a steering wheel with a large male behind it with a pipe in his mouth. Looking behind herself, Donna saw the bow of what she now knew to be a ship. A sudden grip wrapped itself around Donna's back, a giggle escaping from whoever it was. "Donna we can be pirates! Oh this is a wonderful adventure!" Angie screamed out, squeezing herself under Donna's left arm to hug her from the front instead. Beneviento looked down at Angie, who now had a small hat on top of her grey veil.

"Angie, oh Angie." Donna huffed out as she hugged her doll close, being glad she was safe and not a single scratch on her.

"Gotta say, she's quite the hyper character ain't she. Pretty tough when up against Slasher as well. My mutt was gonna take a swig at 'er head there" Donna glared at the female pirate, feeling invaded and insulted that she would call Angie out on her character so easily like that.

"And you're just a...just a..." Donna threw her head to look back at Angie failing to come up with an insult to fend Angie's honour.

"Don't mind her, she's just head over heels for cute girls like yourself," Donna flicked Angie's head at her sudden words. Donna was sure she wasn't interested in fictional characters. Donna preferred to be clean, not like a pirate who would stay in the dirt and drink beer till they pass out inly to want a 'good time' when it was for their own personal needs. The thought of even dating a pirate sent shivers up her spine.

"I ain't no cute girl, I prefer the words dare devil or even maybe sexy~" The female flirted back, staring directly at Donna. Donna let go of Angie and stood up, her shy demeanour was long gone. She crossed her arms over her chest and threw her veil up not daring to take such immature behaviour from the other. The other had gasped, but not in shock but rather like she had just found treasure.

"Sexy isn't a word to describe such yourself- gosh I don't even know your name."

The pirate smirked, leaning their arm on the grip of their word as she lightly leaned back on her knee. She licked her teeth and smiled peevishly. "The name's (Y/n), however on the sea 'ere the name's Captain Silver-ring." Donna grimaced at the sudden outtake of the 'Captain Silver-ring's hand. She softly knocked it away from herself with her own hand and tutted, Angie watching from the side lines next to a rather buff dog which had seated itself on top of a barrel.

"I prefer it if you didn't touch me (Y/n). Contact by others isn't something I'm much used to." The quick explanation from Donna had created a head tilt from the Captain. She way beyond confused, what was a lassie doing dressed in full black even doing on her boat. Everyone in the area knew that contact was the only quick way to gain any booty, either by stealing or by taking- totally not the same.

The captain slowly nodded her head, a finger drumming on her cheek. "Okay, so ye on my boat with no thoughts of getting any of me treasure? Who are you working for? The Wooden Boot? Maybe you're a stealer for the Crow's Eye. I always knew she would try take me booty." Angie laughed out-loud drawing the attention of all the sailors on board the ship, even Donna.

"She said booty!" Donna covered her eyes slightly, feeling embarrassed. Her she was, a new world with new people and she may end up dying here. Great...just great.

"So if ye not 'ere to steal me booty, why are you 'ere then?" (Y/n) asked suspiciously as she then began to circle Donna, making her feel smaller than ever. Under the intense glare that (Y/n) gave out, Donna could only whimper slightly until the same light headed feeling came back to her just like before she came to be transported here.

"I don't know, I just somehow got here." Donna mumbled, letting herself drop to her knees with her head hung down. (Y/n) waited and stared at Donna, only getting bright eyes when she signalled everyone off top deck. Hurried feet ran down below, leaving just the captain, Donna, Angie and Slasher on top as night began to roll in.

"I never got ye name," (Y/n) said, kneeling down but keeping distance away from Donna after remembering she didn't like contact.

"I'm lady Beneviento-"

"A LADY! Oh my gosh, Where are my manners." Donna raised a brow as she lifted her head, it swirling around a bit, and watched as (Y/n) bowed.

"My Lady Beneviento-" A quiet gasp came from Donna's mouth. Never in her life was she ever called by 'my'- it was oddly comforting.  "-I am Captain Silver-Ring, name belonged to me mother who used to be the greatest pirate of all times. I am in her place as Captain of the white vessel, I strive to find the treasure she never found."

Angie began to bounce up and down, the sudden energy that surrounded them all made her giddy- especially the loudness of (Y/n)'s voice. "An what is that treasure?!" Angie asked excitedly, seemingly slightly affected by the same feeling of Donna with the light headedness as she would use her hands to steady herself straight.

"Well, it's simple- kinda." Donna waited for an answer, her vision slightly blurring as she looked up at the Captain who was now on two feet. Swinging her sword out, she raised it high as the sunset light had bounced off the silver blade. "And that is to find the perfect woman to be with forever!"

Just like she was hit with cupid's arrow, Donna fell suddenly to the ground and felt the same sickness run over her body. She dropped in temperature as she held tightly onto the cloak that covered her body. Closing her eye, she sucked her lips in and bit on them to keep her mouth shut. She didn't feel like throwing up t the moment, gosh no but the burning sensation building up in her stomach would want to beg her to.

Voices rang about in her mind as she curled once again. Letting ridged breaths out through her nose, she no longer smelt the salt that had clogged her nose when she was on that ship. Instead a smell of pine and mud filled her senses. Staying laying down, Donna waited until she felt like she could move and not throw up. Expecting when she opened her eye to be faced with the cocky smirk of the pirate, she was surprised to find Angie- without a pirate hat- looking down at her. "Looks like we are back home." She said, letting herself glide up into the air.

Donna closed her eye and re-opened it. Indeed this was her home. The smell of the mud was familiar to know. Pushing herself up, light headed still evidence within her mind, she watched as Angie looked behind her. "Ya know, that was quiet the adventure. I think we should do it again tomorrow!" Angie exclaimed as she pointed at something. Following her finger, Donna looked behind herself to realise the tree that had gotten themselves into that mess was still there.

"I think I'll skip." Donna said, letting herself lay in the mud. Angie hovered right over Donna, looking down at her with a smirk.

"Too afraid to face Captain Silver-ring?" She teased, wagging her finger at Donna making fake kissing noises. Donna scrunched up mud in her hand and threw it at Angie who laughed in returned. With slightly rosy cheeks, Donna protested against the idea of seeing the Captain again. "Okay okay...maybe I'll show Lady Dimitrescu the tree! ooo I bet (Y/n) would love her. A lady who loves danger, how perfect their match would be."

For unknown reasons to herself, Donna couldn't help but scoff at the name of Dimitrescu. "You know what, I will go back tomorrow. Not like we have much to do anyway," Donna dragged out, her scowl still on her face. She wouldn't let Dimitrescu see her, oh no. She wouldn't allow it.

She found Captain Silver-Ring first, she shall be the one to see her again. "Is this you saying you love her~"

"Angie love is a strong word, one I'm sure Pirates don't use. I'm only going to gather more information- who knows maybe mother would like this tree." Donna bit her lip after her sentence. "Or- we just keep this tree to ourselves and leave it like that?" She questioned mostly herself but either way, Angie replied with a grin.

"Maybe we could help her find a lover and we could ask for information in return to give to Mother Miranda!"

"Yeah....lets do..that." As Angie floated away back to the Manor clearly excited for the next day, Donna stayed laid in the mud questioning herself. A sudden flash back of the Captain's grin came into her mind making her hit her cheeks. "No no Donna, you are a Lady. She is a Pirate. A really...really- awkwardly nice pirate." Closing her eye, Donna laid there silently enjoying the look of the Pirate in her mind on repeat. How weird- she was enjoying remembering the new Captain. A new world.

Her now favourite adventure.

[brandyllyn]

The Scoundrel’s Reward

Summary: You have been captured by a terrible monster! Is your rescuer the dashing pilot he claims to be - or is he a scoundrel in disguise? Alternatively: Poe Dameron and you goof around and have some fun one night in his quarters.

Part of the "Goofballs in Love" Series of One-Shots: The Scoundrel’s Reward, Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, Flexibility (noun), Give me my sin again, Writing on the Wall

My Masterlist

Words: 3K (Read it on AO3.) [complete] Rated: Explicit Warnings: established relationship. roleplay. consensual dubious consent. bondage. mild violence against droids. oral (f receiving). PiV sex. two people being dorks in bed.

-Privacy Locks Engaged-

Poe tilted his head as he looked at the small screen outside his quarters, trying to think of a reason the locks might be enabled. He had the codes, of course. They were his quarters after all. Had he done it before he left? He was pretty sure he hadn’t.

Had something happened inside there? Someone might have set the privacy locks in order to keep people out. A leak maybe? Or a repair? But that didn’t make sense, if that had happened someone would have contacted him. And he was pretty sure there was a special code for that sort of thing anyway. The privacy locks were for situations when you didn’t want people walking in on you. Hell, if you didn’t have the door code you just got an error message. But if you had the door code…

-Privacy Locks Engaged.-

He rarely used them. Once or twice when he’d come back after a mission and needed double digit hours of uninterrupted sleep. Once when he’d been deep into studying some new X-Wing configurations and didn’t want distractions. But usually he used them when he had you over.

You.

The only other person who had access to the room’s security system was you. He raised an eyebrow. Did this mean you wanted privacy? But if that was true, you had your own quarters you could be in - rather than his. He mulled the problem over more.

Generally he used the privacy locks when you and he wanted alone time. When he didn’t want to risk some friendly pilot or whoever beeping in to halt whatever fun things the two of you were doing in bed together. He considered the possibility. Maybe you were in his room doing something fun in bed. You had intended to see each other that night - maybe you had gotten a head start waiting for him.

-Privacy Locks Disengaged.-

When the doors slid open he stepped inside quickly, reengaging the lock behind him. The room was dark, shadows dancing along the wall from a single lamp with a sheer yellow scarf tossed across it. His eyes were drawn immediately to the bed, and the form lying across it.

You were wearing a sheer white robe, one he’d never seen before. Even in the low light he thought he could make out the darker shade of your nipples peeking through. Somehow more interestingly, you were tied up. Hands bound above your head. When he entered the room your eyes met his and then you winked before your face dropped into over-the-top fear.

"Oh thank the gods, someone is here to rescue me," you called out in a comically desperate voice. He felt his lips twitch. "Please, handsome stranger, save me from this foul beast."

"Oh?" Poe asked, leaning against the door with a smirk. "And who has captured you fair maiden?"

He heard a whirring noise and saw BB-8 roll to place itself between its owner and you, one port opening and the droid’s taser snapping in the still air. The droid beeped questioningly and he heard you whisper, "Yes now."

A series of low angry whistles came from the droid. Threats of violence as BB-8 rolled toward him, taser crackling menacingly. Poe took a step back, putting a chair between himself and the 'beast'. "Ah, I see," he nodded, "a most fearsome foe indeed."

BB-8 gave a pleased little spin at that and he heard you urging the droid back into character. Taking advantage of the distraction Poe turned to the wall, finding a discarded broom and brandishing it.

"Unhand her foul beast!"

BB-8 rolled backwards in alarm and Poe tapped the droid gently with the broom. "Take that!" Another gentle tap. "And that!"

BB-8 spun in place in confusion before rolling towards Poe. Thinking fast, he jumped on top of the nearby table, crouching low and continuing to tap at the droid as it circled around him. Poe threw his boots at the droid one by one, taunting it for being unable to reach him on the table. BB-8 called out increasingly silly threats until Poe finally leapt down and pinned it with a downward thrust of the broom. He squatted quickly whispering "Thanks buddy, go back to your dock now."

BB-8 trilled happily, returning to its charging station and powering down. Poe tossed his 'sword' aside and made his way to the bed, strutting and puffing his chest out in victory.

"Oh brave man, thank you for saving me," you called out, lips parted and eyes wide in adoration.

"It was nothing," he shrugged one shoulder, brushing the arms of his flight suit off. "All in a day’s work for a Resistance pilot."

A small gasp. "A hero of the Resistance? To save me? I am so fortunate." Okay, maybe you were being a little over the top now.

He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and slipping his arms under you to help you sit upright. His fingers toyed with your bound wrists as they fell between the two of you. "It is I who am fortunate," his voice lowered an octave, "to have the chance to meet such a beautiful… princess?" He raised an eyebrow in question and saw you nod before committing to the line. "A princess far beyond the reach of a scoundrel like myself."

He heard you snort and thought for a second you rolled your eyes before he saw them widen into doe-eyed innocence. "Does this scoundrel have a name?"

"You can call me Commander," he said with a smirk. Oh you definitely rolled your eyes at that.

"What can I possibly do to reward you?" you ask, lips parted and eyelashes fluttering. Your bound hands shifted, resting high on his thigh.

"Oh I’m sure we can think of something," he tilted your chin up with one hand, thumb stroking along your lip. His hand trailed down, feeling the heat of your skin through the flimsy robe until he ran one finger around your taut nipple.

"You would take advantage of me?" Your breathy question makes his lips twitch. "Please sir I am at your mercy."

"Mmm," he hummed contentedly to himself, "I see that." He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, listening to the soft inhale of air and feeling the clench of your fingers on his thighs.

"Oh I have escaped from one monster only to fall into the clutches of another!"

Poe buried his face in your neck to stop the laughter from spilling out of him, reaching down and clasping the bindings around your wrists with one hand. Using them to pull you forward until you fell into his chest. "In my clutches," he grinned to himself, "I like that."

Your head is tilted to the side, offering your neck to his mouth and he took the opportunity without further prompting. His tongue seeking the places that he knew made you groan and squirm. "Please," the breathy moan from you made blood rush down to his cock. "Please don’t…"

"Don’t?" He whispered against your skin. "Don’t what? Do this?" Teeth sank into your shoulder and he heard you whine, felt your body arch into him. He pressed one hand behind you to delve into your hair, pulling slightly and exposing more of you to him. "What is it princess? Don’t what?"

You moaned again, the sound settling into his body. "You say you don’t want this," he murmured, tongue sliding along your jaw, "but I think if I slipped my fingers between those pretty thighs of yours I’d find a different story. Should I find out?" He glided one hand down to your thigh, flipping the flimsy robe to the side to expose you. "Hmm? Are you wet for me princess?"

He didn’t wait for your response, fingers forcing between your clenched thighs and just barely tickling into the slick heat he found. "Oh yes," his teeth nipped your ear, "that’s what I thought. You want this scoundrel to touch you."

"No," your breathy denial stirred the air between the two of you and he felt himself get harder. "I don’t want this. Not with you."

"Your body says otherwise," he countered, tongue tracing your ear. Quickly, he shifted his weight, laying you back down across the bed and stretching your bound hands high over your head. You struggled, body writhing beneath his. He grunted and straddled your waist, using both hands to secure your wrists to the head of the bed. From his vantage above you he gave you a considering look, biting his lower lip.

"Please," you pleaded, eyes wide on his. He leaned forward and pressed two fingers to your lips. Your mouth parted immediately, sucking them into the wet warmth. He groaned when he felt you lick softly at the pads of his fingers.

"You must be the Force’s gift to me for being the best pilot in the galaxy," he grinned and heard you snort. Giving you a disappointed look for breaking character, he used his free hand to flick your side and felt you squirm. He bit his bottom lip when you glared at him in return, nipping at his fingers. "Maybe I’ll use this sweet mouth of yours," he mused and the teasing look in your eyes was replaced by something more feral. More hungry.

He had said it as a joke, as a threat in the spirit of the rogue he was playing. But seeing the change on your face, the way you sucked on his fingers… He groaned, leaning forward to thrust his tongue into your mouth, using his fingers to hold your jaw open.

When he pulled away he saw your eyes were hazy, your tongue lazily circling his fingers. He smirked down at you, "Mmm princess, seems like maybe you do want this."

Your eyes snap up to his, jerking your face away from his hand. "Never."

"Oh really," he raised an eyebrow, shifting his body until he was straddling your thighs, running his hands lightly down your neck. With deliberate slowness he parted the robe, exposing your body to the air and his eyes. He swallowed, the sight of you never failed to cause his heart to skip a beat, his blood to pump faster. He ran a finger under your breast, hiding a smile when you arched slightly up to him.

His fingers tweaked your nipple, "Princess, I could have you begging for me."

"I would never beg for ahh," your protestations were cut off when he leaned forward, wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub and sucking it hard into his mouth.

"What was that?" He asked conversationally, laving it with his tongue before gently setting his teeth to it. "That almost sounded like begging."

He glanced up when you didn’t respond, saw your eyes squeezed shut, your mouth open in a silent gasp. He nibbled at your nipple, heard the keening noise you made and turning his attention to the other. Giving it the same ministrations, flicking the one not in his mouth with his thumb. His body shifted, his knee forcing your legs apart and he reached down to glide his fingers through the heart of you.

"Oh, at least one part of you is honest," he whispered into your skin. Slick heat coated his fingertips and he muffled a groan, moving so both his legs were between yours, holding you wide open to the exploration of his fingers. When they glided across your clit you moaned and he echoed it. "Mmm, that was closer, but not quite."

He shifted down your body, pressing kisses to your skin until he settled between your legs, situating your thighs over his shoulders. His hands clasped at your hips as he pulled you slightly, into his waiting mouth. The breathy little sigh you made was music - just the touch of his lips enough to pull that pleased little noise from you. He nuzzled you for a moment, his nose slipping between your wet folds and over your clit. Another noise, sharper this time.

Looking up he could see you spread out before him, the arms pinned above your head pulling your breasts up high. Your stomach was quivering and he ran a soothing hand over it at the same moment he gently licked against you.

"Poe!" you shouted and he nipped you.

"Nuh uh, tonight I’m just Commander." He thought for a moment, "Or 'Sir' if you want."

Your toes pushed against his hips and he had a feeling that 'Sir' was off the table. Ah well, it was worth a shot. Instead, he dipped his tongue into you, thrusting slowly into your tight channel.

"Oh… Commander," you panted and Poe rewarded you with a long lick up to your clit, flicking against the bundle of nerves and then moving down again. Taking his time, ignoring your breathy moans and the clench of your thighs around his head. Occasionally he turned his mouth to your inner thigh, running his tongue along the soft skin and gently biting. But he always returned to your heat, your soaking core.

"Sir…"

He closed his lips on your clit, massaging it with his lips before letting it go. "Oh that sounds lovely. Beg for me princess. Tell me how much you want me."

"I want…" you started but he was tonguing your clit again and all thought seemed to fly from your head. One of his fingers slowly slid inside of you, filling an aching need. "Please," you finally gasp and he thrust his hand up hard into you, flicking your clit with his tongue.

He gentled immediately, listening to your breathy whine. "Much better," he muttered against your clit. "If I give you what you want - what will you give me?"

"Anything," you promised recklessly.

"Oh I like the sound of that," he hummed in pleasure. "Will you let me put my cock right here?" He stroked inside of you for emphasis and you nod.

"Yes, yes, please."

"Alright then, since you ask so nicely." He didn’t tease anymore, just buried his face against you and drove you relentlessly into your peak. Holding you steady with one hand while he fucked you with the other. He relished your cries, the way your body rocked beneath his hand, even the curl of your toes into his shirt. He would never get tired of making you come. Never.

As you slowly drifted along the highs of your pleasure he sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and quickly shoving his pants off. By the time you were somewhat coherent his body was laying over yours, his mouth seeking yours out.

"Taste how much you want me," he murmured, urging your tongue to tangle with his. You moaned, arms straining against the bindings, wanting to wrap him in your embrace.

"Poe," you gasped and he nips your lower lip. "Commander," you correct quickly, "please, I want you inside me."

"All you had to do was ask princess," he whispered back, lifting one of your knees with his hand and sliding inside of you in one smooth stroke. You groaned together and he pulled away from you just as slowly, starting a smooth steady rhythm.

"Commander," you breathed and fuck but that shouldn’t be as sexy as it was. He was going to have a hard time ever concentrating during shift again with the memory of your sweet voice moaning his rank into his ear.

"Commander please, I need more."

"More?" He shifted slightly and fucked in to you hard. "Like this?"

"Yes," your reply was instant, your mouth gaping open and he quickly took advantage. Capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. His forearms were under your shoulders, hands cupping each side of your head. Holding you still while his tongue ravished you, hips snapping into yours. He relished the hot pant of your breath into his mouth, the moans he could capture. When your legs rose to wrap around his waist he lowered one of his hands to cup beneath your ass, urging you to meet his heavy thrusts.

"Are you going to come for me again princess?" He whispered the words directly against your tongue, shifting his weight so he could slip his hand between your bodies. When his fingers gently circled your clit you cried out - thighs clenching against his waist.

"That’s it baby," he pulled his head away so he could watch your face. "That’s it, come for me."

He could see your fists clenching, your arms stretched above your head, your back arching. Every movement was taut, beautiful, straining for release. He moved his fingers faster, picking the pace of his hips up.

You screamed when you came, a wordless cry that shot straight into his heart. He moved his hand away quickly, back to holding your head as he ground his hips down into yours. "Oh fuck princess," he moaned, your muscles tightening and releasing as your orgasm washed over you. "Just like that. Fuck you feel-"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by your lips. Neck arching up to capture his mouth and he followed you back down. Lips pressed to yours as he lost his rhythm. Lost his senses. Lost his mind in the pleasure of your body.

When his brain began to function again he could feel your legs still wrapped around his waist, the hot puffs of your breath stirring his hair. He grunted when he pushed himself up, nuzzling your nose with his before placing a light kiss on your lips.

"I think that was a suitable reward for slaying a dragon," he said with a grin and saw your nose crinkle when you giggled.

"Wicked man," you sighed and he kissed you again, pulling slightly on your hair. You arched your neck into the touch, gasping softly.

"Very wicked," he assured you and trailed kisses down your neck. He felt himself slip out of you, heard the small noise you made when he did. He lightly ghosted his lips across your collarbone. "Now," he said, slowly sitting up and spreading his knees wide, your thighs thrown over his. "What inducement might you have for me to set you free?"

Your lips pursed for a moment, hiding a smile, and then you licked your lips. "You’ve already ravished me scoundrel. What more could I possibly give you?"

He raised an eyebrow and you winked at him. "Oh my dear princess," he cooed, running his hands up your thighs until his thumbs pressed to your center. "I can think of a few more things."

[void-adjacent-particles]

Content warnings: Death, gore, fire mentions, scars, murder, violence.

Totems of Undying are strange things. They’re warm, and will pulse in time to the heartbeat of whatever is holding them, emerald eyes glimmering even in the pure dark of the void’s absence of light. While Totems are made of gold, there is no malleability, they are as solid as bedrock. The emeralds and gold and magic have solidified into one unchangeable object until its use, and then it is gone.

They leave their mark on whatever uses them. For some this could be a prize, another thing to be proud of, because they survived the unsurvivable only through their own wits and forethought. To others it is a mark of shame, for ever having been in such a position to lose their life, even if it is only one of three.

On a specific server, there are those who have need for Totems in their long pasts, who have used them right before our eyes, and those who will surely use them in the future.

Technoblade was one such person to use one before our eyes. We saw him dragged from his home to a farce of a trial, facing justice on rigged scales for grievous cries nonetheless as he was pushed into a cage. The fall of the anvil, the crushing, crunching of a body that never seemed fragile until now when everyone witnessed its end. Then the sparkling cloud of green and yellow, bones clicking back in jigsaw puzzle pieces, the knitting of muscle and tendon and skin, and there is only a moment of paralyzing death before his heart skips a beat and he lives again. This is the prestige of his trick, no turn to raise suspense, and a pledge everyone who knew his name already was aware of, a promise and threat all in one that he always delivered on. Technoblade never dies, and he lives right now to kill again. Later he will be in his quaint cottage in the merciless tundra, and his own reflection will glitter strangely back at him, forcing him to examine himself instead of resting and trying to forget the lingering aches. He will stare as the night sky leaves the window more a mirror, lantern lights low, but the flashes catch his eyes anyway. His tusks, once white and bone, now seem to be fully made of gold. He taps one with his hoof, and feels the pressure reverberating subtly down into his jaws, as real as before. With a shrug, he moves his hoof away, only to watch as pink fur and skin split against the now razor sharp point of his tusks. Those tusks will remain as gilded as any enchanted apple, and as sharp as any netherite sword, until one day he will fail his audience, his pledge a battle cry he brings to one or more of his graves.

Quackity would covet a Totem in all of his paranoia, his fear of death and pain and losing even more than he already has. If he died, be it by pickaxe or nuke or strangling, desperate hands, the Totem would bring him back all the same. And all of his scars would ache in their newfound golden hue, shining and standing out even more as a testament to his inability to protect himself or what he loves. The scars would hurt, old and new, in warning of dangers to come. It only partly calms his paranoia, the fear ever present and simmering in the background of his mind, waiting to boil over and burn him.

When Tubbo or Tommy use their Totems of Undying they will appear unharmed. It is not until they bruise that it becomes obvious. A small bump against the corner of furniture, a tumble while out exploring the wild, a sharp elbow to the face, the blunt side of a weapon, they bruise the skin, blossoming into purples and dark indigos. They fade far too quickly, as if someone splashed healing potions on them. Yet then they stay at that disquieting green and yellow stage, where the next day it could appear as if they were never there, but they stay, shimmering slightly in the wrong lighting, still hurting as much as if they were fresh even weeks later. Only fading when forgotten about, and they have wonder if the bruise was ever there. If only they had Totems when they died before. Tubbo’s face would be a mess of bruised gold that would seep into the skin until only pink scar tissue remained, a starburst remnant of a festival’s fireworks, but he would still be alive, gasping for air and hunched over in that box, on that stage, but alive. Tommy would have handprint bruises around his neck, across the break in his nose, the imprint of a fist against his cheek that had whipped his head back too far, his neck slamming at the worst angle against the harsh obsidian walls. But he would have been alive, clawing his way back into life, latching his own hands around his killer’s throat, finishing the job, doing what should have been done instead of daring to imprison a dream.

George passes out if he uses a Totem. Instead of the rush of adrenaline, of life that floods the system of whatever uses one, it overwhelms to the point of just unconsciousness as his body repairs itself, fueled only by magic until his heart begins pumping and his lungs begin breathing again. Later when he wakes, maybe with cracked sunglasses, anyone who’s looking properly will see the dark bags under his eyes, a sheen of gold overlaying the dark purple of sleeplessness. When he sleeps it will be deeper, without dreams. Alarms and shaking won’t wake him. Nights will be sleepless as he examines the bags under his eyes, fretting over the burnt orange of the gold deepening, digging into his skin, around his eyes. He will continue to sleep, but days will pass, and when he wakes he wonders if next time he will simply be unlucky and sleep forever.

If Dream uses a Totem of Undying it will shatter him. He will feel every bone shake themselves into dust and back again, a glimpse of what everyone eventually returns to. His spine will burn with pain, arcing upwards to the base of his skull, spreading outwards like a deep set rot that always goes unnoticed until it is far too late and the structure crumbles. His mask shatters, likely from the final strike that killed him, but maybe just from his fall to the ground, a person one moment and a corpse the next, until the Totem brings him back. Gold lines every crack in the porcelain of his mask, across the monochrome of the glaze burned into it, bisecting an eye, a smile, a face. The green of him becomes so much more vibrant, deadly, similar to prey animals that evolve into their bright colors to indicate they are poisonous, saying if you kill me, I take you down with me.

If Niki ever uses a Totem, it would burn. She would feel it burning, more than the all encompassing pain of whatever killed her. Bright, sparking pain would race down her body, through every nerve, every blood vessel, until it was all she knew for that brief suspended moment on the precipice between life and death. She would grit her teeth through the pain, eyes narrowed as she reeled back from the magical force, only to march onward in doing whatever was necessary to achieve her goal. Later she would be looking at her hands, washing off blood real or metaphorical, and see that instead of chipping nail polish in whatever color of her choice, instead her nails would be intact, a brilliant gold. Nails that would make her appear vain, still absorbed with one final thing, or simply clinging to it. Nails that would sharpen into what some might call claws, digging into the fine wooden handles of her weapons, scoring lines that would never go away, even if the nails would upon her death.

If Hannah ever uses a Totem of Undying it will react strangely to her innate magic. Plants die off, withering away, leaving just the roots, the basis of their whole survival, to lie in wait underground until the rain falls again and the sun shines again. Any of her wounds will bloom with roses, the flowers ragged, shaped like bloodstains, but every leaf and petal will be edged with gold. The greenery of her roses’ vines will brighten and soak up sunshine more than ever, revitalizing her until her heart aches with it, until she finally lets fate claim the life stolen from it.

If Puffy ever uses a Totem of Undying, she wouldn’t notice side effects at first, aside from the usual anguish and pain from having died. The likely conflicts she had thrown herself into out of duty would capture her attention anyway, away from examining herself for any lingering problems. It wouldn’t be a problem anyway, not until she looked in the mirror and saw that all of her greying hairs from stress became gold, her mass of curls even heavier, no lock of hair without its reminder, its own thread of gold to weave into thick hair. Later, in a moment of true rest, when someone runs their hands through her hair, braiding it or simply trying to calm her, they would find that every golden thread burns and tries to tie itself around their hands, keeping them there, keeping them at her side where they could be safe.

If Antfrost or Fundy ever use a Totem, it settles on their skin like a weighted blanket, forcing their muscles to accommodate, forcing them to make room in their lives for the extra chance they stole. Later, when they rest, so much more tired with their aching bodies, they will curl up in the sunshine wherever they feel safest. When the sunlight catches just right, beige or burnt orange fur glimmers like a pelt of gold. Any breeze would be unable to rustle fur, their bodies motionless and unmovable as any statue, their breathing far shallower and subtler than ever before. If one wasn’t watching close enough, they’d assume there was a corpse just curled in the sunlight, begging for a final bit of warmth before letting go. They will start awake from nightmares with a hiss, and stretch out in the dying light to go pretend like they don’t feel that extra life weighing on them.

Phil only has one life to lose, and so he holds Totems close to his heart, always just one movement away from being clutched as the lifelines they are. When he’s killed holding one, wings splayed, feathers falling from the force of his death, mouth open and choking on last breaths, his death will hurt.  It will always hurt, the moment stretching through his lived centuries and snapping back into the present, so much life to flash before his eyes that they are rendered sightless and glassy, death clouding them greedily. Flashes of gold and emerald green dance on the sheen of inky feathers and glossy eyes as dead as a doll’s. When he lives again, his wings will no longer be the cape of shadows, the midnight extensions of self that they once were. His secondary feathers will be golden now, shining in the sun, always growing back that same shade. Those gilded feathers will just be another thing his murder of crows hoards, another shiny object, but to Phil it will be a permanent reminder of how he has always only had one life, and how fleeting it is.

If Wilbur got his hands on a Totem, he would never let it go. To die again and again and again, to suffer through the agony of an eternal listless limbo, to suffer again as he is replaced by a mockery of himself… he could not stand for it. So he never lets go of the Totem in hand, his thumb worrying over the facets of its emerald eyes when he thinks, nails breaking against the rigid golden effigy. There are many reasons he would die, several from his own actions, as it was before. If he did die, he would wake choking on blood and tears, hacking and wheezing and lacking all the grace and charm he once had. It wouldn’t be until he coughed once again into his hands that he would see his blood, no longer a dull red, now glimmering and golden. And he laughs, as he now resembles a god in all but the immortality, his blood turned to ichor in its molten sunlight, its deep dark shades of beauty and riches, and he keeps choking on his blood as the Totem works still to restore a body dead for the fourth time.

When Ranboo uses a Totem of Undying the magic will seep into his skin, counteracting strangely with his biology, trying to strengthen him, trying to mark him however it can. So the short black velvet of fur he received from enderman genetics will spread, the skin and fur stronger, in hopes of protecting him. It seeps like ink, a slow spread that burns as if trails of water settled on his skin. It hurts, and he hides for days, coming out with his green eye just a bit brighter, black crawling up the white side of his jaw like an outstretched hand. His own hand will reach out, and under the white skin on his forearm will be golden veins, burning with life stolen from a Totem. He forgets using Totems every time he does, the experience is so jarring and intense as it changes the fiber of his being, as with every use he appears more enderman than whatever else he is. One day, far in the future when he goes by another name, he will look in the mirror and see two emerald green eyes, his entire body the black void of fur his endermen kin have. 

Foolish is a being whose entire being had always been defined by death. Once, it was the carnage, the lives lost in droves, sent into Her embrace prematurely in their violent ends. Then Foolish changed and became a Totem of Undying himself, a god now more mortal than even he knew by resisting his domain. When he died the denial was almost too much to bear, the Egg trying to worm its way into his mind when it realized this weakness, a grief for what he lost. If he dies again, he will likely have a Totem in hand, maybe even one of his children, held close as he fears an end, selfishly cannibalizing the life force of one of his own in order to extend his last two lives. There will be no markings from the Totem. He is already one of them, eyes of gemstone and skin of metal, created and made of that space between life and death, the lull after a last heartbeat when the next is expected, the resting note in the song of life that he has conducted himself, has cut short himself, destroying all in his path without a single goal in mind in his times as a Totem of Death. There is no scar or blood or feathers or bruise to mark him, because he is a Totem. A Totem given sentience and life, given free will and thought, but at the end of the day a living doll, and the now lifeless, apathetically terrified look in Foolish’s emerald eyes is enough to show just what measures he took in order to survive another death.

[floral-force]

Knight in Beskar Armor: Chapter 1

Audience with a Hunter

words: 2.9k

series master list | read on ao3

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“Wake up, Princess! You have a long day ahead of you.”

The familiar voice of your maid drifted into your ears, waking you from your slumber. You groan and open your eyes, then hiss and recoil when the bright Coruscant sunlight hits your tired eyes.

“Maker, Nelly! Did you have to open the curtains all the way?” You growl, your voice hoarse. You tug your bedsheets over your head and groan again, even though you know Nelly won’t give in to your fit.

There’s a soft thump and you feel weight tug down on your mattress by your feet. A sigh follows, and you can picture how Nelly must look—forehead wrinkled, pinching the bridge of her nose, thin lips pursed—as she tried to find a solution to your stubbornness. Silence envelopes both of you; all you can hear is a lone morning bird chirping faintly outside as you wait for her to respond. You slowly peek out from the sheets and see Nelly perched on the end of your bed, the morning light highlighting the lines on her face and making her frustration into a divine portrait like that of a saint.

And if anyone was a saint, it was Nelly. She had been your nursemaid initially and then remained your maid after you refused any other nanny or maid presented to you. Nelly was there when you were brought into the world, and she was there for your first words and steps. Nelly kissed your childhood wounds and dressed them with gentle hands, whether it was bandaging a scrape on your knee or holding you after you overheard your parents arguing. Nelly guided you through your anxieties about womanhood and all that it brought with it, physically and mentally. She was the one who helped you accept your future role as Queen of Naboo.

You slowly sat up and reached out to touch her hand where it was resting on her lap. She heard your movement and looked at you, and you could have sworn you saw a weariness in her eyes that you hadn’t seen before. She took your hand and squeezed it, smiling weakly.

“Oh, Nelly, forgive me. I—”

“Hush, Princess. I know you have been anxious about this day for a long while now,” She squeezed your hand and leaned in closer to you. “I’m sure it didn’t help that I let the sun blind you.”

You chuckled. “Not really. But I’m more awake now.”

Nelly rose, outstretching her other hand to you. You took it and she pulled you out of bed, just as she had always done since you were a toddler. You were a bit taller than the short maid, but not enough that she had to strain to look into your eyes; when Nelly kissed your forehead, you had to slightly tilt your head so her lips could meet your skin. The routine gesture was something you had never received from your own mother, and the more you reflect on it, the more you realize that Nelly provided the comforts your own mother could never give you.

“Let’s get you ready—you have a long day.”

You nodded and followed Nelly into your boudoir, then sat in front of your vanity and started fixing your hair as Nelly prepared water for you to rinse your face with. As your morning routine progressed, you felt yourself awaken more and more. While Nelly was tightening your corset and fixing your gown, you stared at yourself in the floor length mirror. You were then consumed by your own thoughts and anxieties, both about yourself and the day. You’d spent your entire life being prepared for your future, and now that it was approaching, you were terrified. All of Naboo would have its eyes on you, as would the other planets in the system. The weight of the kingdom would soon fall on your delicate shoulders.

The touch of cold metal around your neck snapped you out of your anxious trance, and you watched as Nelly placed a simple silver necklace around your throat, centering the modest teardrop diamond to fall right between your collarbones. It complimented your simple sapphire blue gown, the silver in the necklace matching the thin silver belt that accented your waist. The lace on the square neckline was the only detail you disliked about this gown; it made your chest itchy, and you had no way to relieve that itch until the end of the day. Flowing out under the belt in a centered upside-down V was a simple floral pattern embroidered in white. The hem of your gown had the same pattern, and you adored how delicate it looked.

Nelly carefully put a simple bandeau tiara on your head, making sure not to disturb the hair you had pinned back and away from your face in a simple low bun, a few pieces framing your face. In the center of the tiara was a gorgeous oval sapphire that perfectly matched the hue of your gown. You stepped into a pair of pointed slippers that matched your gown, finishing your daytime outfit.

You thanked Nelly, and the two of you left the boudoir and your chamber to walk to the garden for your breakfast. Whenever it was sunny, your palace staff knew to set your breakfast outside; you loved the way the garden looked in the morning, and it was your favorite place to be on the palace grounds. After a silent walk through the palace’s winding hallways, Nelly opened a door and you stepped outside and into the fresh Naboo air, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath through your nose, immediately feeling relaxed when you exhaled and opened your eyes. Nelly rubbed your back and guided you to where a mug of hot tea and warm food was waiting for you, your chair set to face the expanse of bright flowers and the lush foliage. You gave Nelly a kiss on the cheek, and she left you to enjoy your morning by yourself.

The morning was the only time you felt at peace. The nighttime was good; you were by yourself and could read by candlelight, stargaze on your balcony, relieve stress through pleasuring yourself, or you could put yourself to sleep with fantasies about a different life. The morning, however, never began with stress. The night was when you had to cope with the day’s stress, but the morning was when you enjoyed your last moments of peace before being subjected to whatever your day brought with it. There was beauty in these intimate and peaceful moments that were reserved purely for you, and they let you connect with yourself and clear your mind.

You listened to birds sing their morning ballad as you ate, the sun warming your skin. After you finished your meal, you sipped your tea and admired the flowers. You heard the door click open, and you recognized Nelly’s soft footsteps. She asked if you were finished, and when you nodded, she walked over to you and you stood, linked arms with her, and left your paradise for the confines of the palace.

“Nelly?”

“Yes, Princess?”

You looked down at the floor, watching it pass your feet as you gathered the courage to speak. “I-I’m nervous.”

You felt a tug when Nelly stopped walking, and you stopped as well, eyes still on the floor. Her free left hand cupped your cheek, and you lifted your eyes to look into her green ones. She was frowning, sad and concerned. It wasn’t pity—you knew Nelly didn’t pity you. It was the face of a mother worried for her child. Nelly had always told you she still saw you as the little girl she tended to, and you realized she must be a bit scared for your next chapter in life just like you. She breathed out your name, a soft motherly sigh, her thumb stroking your cheek.

“You are more than capable for this, for your new duties, for your life. All that is soon to come, you will handle with grace.” She smiled gently at you. “I know it.”

You smiled back at her, placing your hand over hers. “Thank you, Nelly.”

She simply smiled, dropped her hand, and you both started to make your way to the throne room, where your challenges would begin.

Upon reaching the throne room doors that were flanked by two knights on either side, Nelly unlinked your arms to turn and face you, and squeezed your hands. She rubbed your arms, centered your necklace and tiara, remarked your beauty, and then left you to finish her morning duties. You took a deep breath and nodded at the silent knights, letting them open the doors to where you’d be spending a majority of your day.

You saw your father and mother sitting at the very end of the elegant room, seated on ornate thrones atop a high marble platform that rose from the floor. Your feet gently tapped the ornate rug that stretched all the way from the doors to the foot of the platform’s marble steps, casting a shadow on it as sun poured through the arched windows on the east side of the room. Portraits of former Naboo monarchs lined the opposite wall, and as you approached your parents, your heart started beating faster. The royal blue banner of the Naboo crest behind your parents seemed more ominous than it had ever appeared to you before, and you tried your best to ignore it and focus instead on maintaining your posture and keeping your head lifted. Your parents could not see you stumble or slip up, especially today.

Finally, you reached them, and you gave them a deep curtsy, awaiting their words when you rose. Your mother seemed to be judging every aspect of your appearance, even if her gaze didn’t show it. You could see the wheels turning in her head, and you felt your mind begin to race with critiques about your body, the way your dress looked on you, your face, your hair…everything. You were brought back from your internal critiques when your father’s voice echoed through the hall.

“Daughter,” he gestured to the empty throne at his right side. “Come. Sit.”

You obeyed, feeling like a village dog after your father’s commands. Every day, you hope he’ll ask about your morning, or how you’re feeling, or even just smile at you. You read once that insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting a different result. Maybe you were a fool for hoping your father would finally show you a tiny bit of affection, but the small girl within you constantly hoped for it.

He didn’t have to tell you what would be filling your morning; you’d sat through many audiences before. Commoners from all across Naboo entering the throne room, airing grievances, asking for help with their villages’ needs, some even sinking to their knees and begging for help with a dire situation. Over time, you’ve learned to suppress visible emotional responses, focusing instead on your father’s responses. Someday soon, it would be you making these decisions, speaking with your planet’s citizens, and you had to learn to put your emotional nature aside in favor of practicality and logic.

The morning turned into afternoon, and you felt yourself getting restless. Luckily, a recess was called, and you exited the throne room alone, walking to the gardens again. It was refreshing to step outside and breathe in the scent of flowers after spending hours inside a stuffy throne room. You walked along the path, meandering deeper into the gardens, brushing your hand against the flowers, grounding yourself with the touch of petals and leaves. Finally, you reached the pavilion, where you could get a clear view of Naboo’s gorgeous landscape beyond the gardens. You smiled, looking up from the flower bushes, and your breath hitched when you caught a glint of armor across the pavilion.

There weren’t normally knights here; why was he here? However, he couldn’t be a knight, he wasn’t wearing the same armor that Naboo’s Royal Guard donned. You took a slow step back, suddenly aware of every breeze and every pebble under your slippers. He seemed to be staring directly at you from across the pavilion, and even though his face was hidden by his helmet, you could feel his gaze piercing you. It unnerved you, and you felt your blood freeze. Your backward steps picked up in speed until you turned around entirely, nearly jogging to get away from the unknown knight.

When you were approaching the marble patio, you noticed a glass of water and a plate of fruit, cheese, and biscuits were left out for you. Scared that the knight was following you, you scarfed it all down, and then hurried inside back to the throne room. You had never wanted to be stuck in a stuffy room with your parents before now, but it was only because some strange knight frightened you in your safest place in the palace.

The afternoon audience carried on in the same fashion as it did in the morning. This time, however, your father allowed you to respond to some commoners, adding on when he saw fit or deemed your response inadequate. Although he never addressed you or gave you explicit instructions or tips, you sensed that he was guiding you in the only way he knew how. You watched as candelabras and sconces slowly began to glow automatically, a product of your planet’s advanced technology. Finally, the herald called forth the last case, and you felt your heart stop.

It was him. He approached the platform, and as he came closer into view, you noticed his broad shoulders and the blaster holstered on his thigh, the ripped cape trailing behind him, and the signet on the right shoulder of his armor. You weren’t close enough to make it out precisely, but you were confident you didn’t want to ever be that close to him. He knelt when he reached the base of the platform, dropping his head.

“Rise, Mandalorian.”

Mandalorian. You remember reading about Mandalore during your lessons; you thought all remaining Mandalorians were either dead or hiding in the Outer Rim. You felt silly for not realizing the stranger was a Mandalorian—you should have remembered the distinct helmet style from your readings. In fairness, you were frightened and not paying attention to detail, just on putting distance between you and the ominous stranger.

Your father continued after the Mandalorian rose to his feet, his gaze now directed at your father. “I trust you bring news on your latest quarry?”

“Yes,” the Mandalorian said, his voice modulated through the helmet. “The quarry is outside of this room.”

Your father nodded. “Very well. Sir Morn, give the Mandalorian his pay.”

The Calamari treasurer appeared seemingly out of nowhere—he must have entered the room at some point, and you didn’t notice it because your entire body was frozen on the Mandalorian—and presented the Mandalorian with a bag of credits. He pulled them out, examining them in his gloved hands. Maker, your father paid the Mandalorian handsomely; at least 500 credits were in that bag. Satisfied, the Mandalorian cinched the bag closed, and Sir Morn walked away.

“Mandalorian, I have a proposition for you.”

“If it’s another quarry, you know what my answer will be,” he stated, tucking the bag away in a satchel at his hip.

“Join my Guard.”

Your eyes widened and your head snapped to your father, who had a straight face, his chin lifted. He was exuding confidence, but it terrified you. He was crazy to believe a Mandalorian would join the Royal Guard.

Without hesitation, the Mandalorian replied, “I work for no one.”

“I already reward you for hunting the threats to Naboo.” The king shrugged, resting his elbow on the throne’s armrest. “Why not make it official?”

The Mandalorian’s helmet turned slightly to the right. Was he intrigued? You couldn’t tell. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you waited for his modulated response.

“I refuse to ‘officially’ work for anyone. This is The Way.” The Mandalorian’s words sent a chill across your skin, and you felt the tension in the throne room increase.

Your father sat back in his throne, nodding. “Very well. In that case, I suppose we shall continue to conduct business as we have been.”

The Mandalorian nodded, and turned to walk away, but your father’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“But Mandalorian, seeing as this quarry was particularly difficult—I’ve fought plenty of those wretched Barabels in my time—I welcome you to rest in my palace tonight.” He paused, then added, “I can also see to it that my bay crew fix your ship.”

The Mandalorian paused, considering the deal. “No droids.”

Your father smiled. “Of course.” He rose, and you and your mother followed suit, trailing behind him as he descended the steps to meet the Mandalorian. “I’ll have one of my stewards show you to your chamber for the night.”

As you exited the throne room with your parents and the Mandalorian, your mind was racing, still terrified, but now you were…intrigued. Your curiosity was getting the better of you, turning your fear into stupid interest in the mysterious Mandalorian.

When the steward led the Mandalorian down the hall, you could have sworn he was staring directly at you, eyeing you up like one of his bounties.

next

[boimgfrog]

hey @pantoranprincess​ i uh. i wrote it <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139768

full fic under the cut

The two men were seated at a table, enjoying lunch despite the… cozy size of Luke’s office. Conversation flowed easily, albeit mostly one-sided.

               “anyways, that’s when I saw Obi-Wan, my first master-” Luke paused, noticing Din’s helmet tilt slightly at the name, “you do know who Obi-Wan was, right?”

               Din froze, not expecting the Jedi to pick up on his confusion, “the name sounds familiar… Bo-Katan mentioned him once,” he took a sip from his straw, “said he was a sister-seducing- man-whore? Was he some kind of escort?”

               He waited as his words washed over Luke. The jedi blinked twice, a smile flickering past his lips.

               “yes,” Luke nodded, “he was, excellent job,” he spooned more soup into his own bowl, hiding his smile behind its large spoon.

               “and he was your master?” Din asked, tilting his head forward.

               “mhmm,” Luke set the spoon back into the bowl, matching din’s gaze through his lashes, “taught me everything he knew,”

               Din coughed, turning his attention back towards his lunch. he sipped at it, ignoring the blush that crept under his helmet.

The jedi huffed, eyes twinkling. Something told Din that maybe, just maybe, he’d lied about the Obi-wan thing.

                                                          -><-

The back of Luke’s head hit the ground, pulling a wheeze from his body. Above him, Din stood poised, cradling a very fussy green toddler. He extended a hand toward the fallen jedi, but Luke waved him off, leaning up on his elbows.

“’s nothing, no offense but,” he gestured to Grogu, who had calmed down some, “he’s no Vader, I’ll be fine,” this time, he accepted Din’s hand, hardly dwelling on how easily he pulled him up.

“Vader?” Din asked, shifting the baby to his hip, and pocketing the darksaber he’d previously been using.

Luke looked up at the Mandalorian, tilting his head with a smile, “Darth Vader? The emperor’s right-hand man?”

Din’s helmet betrayed to hint of recognition. Unbelievable. No way, there’s no way he was this clueless.

“big cape, scary helmet? Red lightsaber?” Luke tried, wracking his brain.

“oh, you mean like the guy on those old recruitment posters?”

“those- the recruitment posters?”

Din nodded, “I’d see ‘em plastered up in bars and stuff, back before the empire fell,”

Recruitment posters. Din, one of the best bounty hunters Luke had ever met, king of Mandalore himself, had only heard of Darth Vader via recruitment posters. Luke felt his chest flutter. He nodded along with whatever Din said next, mind elsewhere. If he hadn’t heard of Darth Vader… what else had he managed to miss?

                                                         -><-

“Din!” Luke called from down the hallway, footsteps tripping as he ran inside Din’s ship, “Din! My sister’s here,” he said, knocking on the solid metal hull, “She wants to meet you!” his voice made it sound like an important event, though Din could hardly see why exchanging niceties with the sister of a backwater jedi warranted such flare.

“mm,” Din pulled back the door, peering down at Luke who was bouncing on his toes, “why?”

Luke ignored him, grabbing Din by his gloved hand, and dragging him towards his office, “this could be a big opportunity for you,” he rattled on, eyes shining beneath his mess of dust-streaked hair, “it’s good for you to make connections like this, given your newly-found title-”

“connections?” Din interrupted, “what do you mean?”

Luke spared a confused glance back at the Mandalorian, still steadily walking him towards his sister, “my sister? Leia Organa?”

Din offered up no response, but Luke was enamored by it nonetheless. He could understand not knowing much about galactic history, after all, he was under the impression that Din lead a particularly... sheltered childhood. But things that were happening now? The new republic?

“she was the princess of Alderaan? She helps lead the New Republic?”

“Alderaan...” Din paused, “that’s the one that blew up, right?”

“yes,” Luke dropped Din’s hand, unhooking the tarp that shielded his office from view, “yes, it’s the one that blew up,”

“mm,” Din hummed thoughtfully, “is she a jedi too?”

“sort of, I’ve been helping her train,” Luke said, checking his hair in the gleam of Din’s helmet.

“must’ve been why they blew up Alderaan then,” Din held still, “they were trying to kill her before she got too powerful,”

Luke’s hands stilled. He stared up into the Mandalorian’s visor, “huh,” he said, unable to stop his lips from twitching, “maybe so,” Luke turned around, brushing the tarp aside for Din to enter, hiding his smile behind the fabric.

                                                          -><-

It was almost cute, how little Din seemed to know about the galaxy he lived in. it didn’t really matter, of course. Most of it was just history lessons, nothing that would seriously impede him on a mission or in battle. And he wasn’t stupid by any means. He could speak more languages than Luke could count on his hands, flesh and robotic, and had flight skills that could rival even the most trained X-wing pilot. Still, it was hard not to feel fond when the Mandalorian only just now realized that Luke and Leia were twins.

“how was I supposed to know!”

“Din, starlight, our father would’ve been found out the second one of us was born, how exactly did you think he managed to swerve the jedi code to have another baby?”

“listen-” Din huffed, biting back his argument when he saw how ecstatic Luke was over this whole ordeal. Luke only nodded along expectantly, crossing one leg over the other. He was nothing if not encouraging.

“to be fair,” Din started, scowling at Luke’s twinkling smile, “she’s a princess, and you grew up on Tatooine,” he huffed, “and you never mentioned your dad was a jedi,” he added quickly, hoping Luke would miss it in his euphoria. No such luck.

“Din,” Luke stood up, reaching to cradle the Mandalorian’s helmet in his hands, “Anakin Skywalker? Did you think that was a coincidence?”

“it’s a big galaxy, there’s like half a billion ‘Djarin’s out there,” Din answered, but the bite had left his voice. It was hard to be frustrated when Luke was so close, all soft smiles and saying “Din” like it was a prayer.

Din leaned into the jedi’s touch. He’d blame it on the weight of his helmet later, and Luke would play along, teasingly offering to hold the helmet if it ever got too heavy. It was only ever teasing though. Luke never asked for more than Din was willing to give.

                                                         -><-

 They were pressed together, Din’s arm wrapped lazily around Luke’s waist, the jedi’s head leaning against his cold, armored shoulder. The beaches on Luke’s planet were nothing special, but the sunsets, oh the sunsets were spectacular. Grogu had been poking at Luke’s brain all day, playing memories of beach days on coruscant and building sandcastles with the crechemasters, until Luke finally caved and suited the baby up for a day in the water, inviting Din along.

Grogu had the time of his life, taking turns force-throwing sand at his dad and splashing his master until they joined in the fun. After a full day of entertaining the little gremlin, though, the two men had decided to impose Nap Time on the kiddo, sprawling out together on one of the many beach towels Luke had brought. (“you didn’t grow up on Tatooine, Din. Trust me, sand gets everywhere”)

The baby was fast asleep against Din’s armor, wrapped up so his head didn’t get bruised by the beskar.

“this was nice, huh?” Luke asked, shifting to look up at the Mandalorian. His eyes brushed over the thin stripe of exposed facial hair before he pulled his gaze away, embarrassed. Even the smallest of glimpses got his heart racing. Ridiculous, honestly.

“mhmm,” Din absentmindedly rubbed circles on Grogu’s back with his thumb, “could’ve done without all the sand in my armor, though,”

Luke laughed, “ugh I know,” he shifted again, pulling his arms from the poncho he was wearing, “I always get so much sand and dust in my hand, it’s the worst,”

Din tilted his helmet, “in your hand?”

“yeah,” Luke fiddled with his glove, pulling it off before tugging on one of his fingers, revealing the intricate system of wires, “you didn’t know?”

Din knew he was staring, and he knew that wasn’t polite but he just- “you’re… part droid?”

Luke laughed at that, a full, hearty laugh, one that had him gasping for air and rolling on his back. Din reached for his hand, holding it up so that it didn’t hit the sand as Luke fell back.

“yes,” Luke said, catching his breath, “I suppose that’s one way to put it,” he flicked his finger again, closing the wiring hatch. Din hadn’t removed his hand, so Luke twisted their fingers together, “you really didn’t know?”

“how was I supposed to?”

“the lifting things six times my weight didn’t tip you off?”

Din sputtered, “you’re a jedi??? You lift things six times your weight all the time???”

That got Luke laughing again, eyes twinkling in the setting sun. He was teasing Din, yes, but he was also so, so deeply fond of him. This, Luke asking questions, Din answering truthfully even though it made him look silly, this was everything to Luke. Luke trusted the Mandalorian, of course he did, and this made Luke feel like Din trusted him as well. just the thought alone was enough to make the Jedi smile wider, letting his head fall against the Mandalorian’s shoulder once more.

                                                           -><-

Luke paced around Din’s ship. It was bigger than his last one, and somehow even harder to navigate.

“Din, where’s your holoprojector?” Luke had promised to tell Leia when they were getting close, and they’d be closing in on Coruscant within the hour.

“don’t have one,” came the response from the dashboard, stopping Luke in his tracks.

“don’t- do you at least have a data pad?” no holoprojector? Maybe Din was poorer than Luke thought.

“yeah,” Din shuffled around for a moment, before handing Luke a beat-up data pad that was at least a century old.

“Din this thing is ancient,” he said, frowning at the actual layer of crust on the screen, “does it even have holonet?”

“nope,”

“wh-“ Luke was dumbfounded, “how do you get your news? What if something big happens??”

“if I need to know it, someone will tell me,” Din said as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy, but the thought left Luke reeling.

“Din, starlight, you didn’t know who Darth Vader was,”

“I did so-”

“yeah, from recruitment posters-”

“it still counts-”

“no it doesn’t-”

They fought like that for a moment, back and forth, until it dawned on Luke.

“holy stars,” he said, cutting Din’s rant short, “Din, is this why you didn’t know about Obi-Wan? And Anakin being my father? And Leia and the new republic?” Luke sat down in the co-pilot’s seat, scooping up Grogu and setting him in his lap.

Din grumbled, turning his attention back to hyperspace, “it wasn’t important,”

“starlight it was Darth Vader-”

The two started arguing again, bickering in that old married couple kind of way. Luke couldn’t help but smile at the situation. All this time, all these silly little accidents and conversations, all because the Mandalorian hadn’t bothered to install a holoprojector in his ship. It was amazing, really.

“I don’t see what the big deal is, you don’t know anything about Mandalorian culture,”

“Din no one knows anything about Mandalorian culture,”

Din slumped in his seat, hands gripping loosely at the steering controls. Luke leaned forward, bumping the Mandalorian’s with his head until Din faced him, pressing their foreheads together softly.

“hey,” Luke said in hushed tones, “for the record, I thought it was kinda hot,”

Din let out a breathy laugh, pulling back slightly to look in the jedi’s eyes.

“that says more about you than it does me, Skywalker,”

Luke matched his laugh, Din joining in before resting his forehead against Luke’s again. They were gonna get an earful from Leia when they landed without a party to welcome them, but for now they would simply rest, all shiny armor and gentle curls, bathed in the glow of hyperspace.

[once-upon-a-oneshot]

Friends with Benefits

Summary: You and Calum are friends with benefits, but what happens when one of you starts to want something more

Genre: Frat!Calum

Warnings: swearing, sexual themes

Word Count: ~900

“Same time tomorrow?” Calum asks as you clumsily climb out of his bed and search around the room for the panties you arrived in.

“Um,” As you reach under the bed, you feel the silk material in a crumbled heap. You pull it out only to realize that these are not the panties you wore here. In fact, they aren’t even yours. “I actually have plans.” You continued, throwing the panties away from you and wiping your hand on your still bare thigh.

“Plans?” Calum’s tone is doubtful, almost even mocking. But you’re too busy scowering the room for your panties to notice.

“Yep.” Deciding to abandon your search for your undergarments, you grab your pants off the foot of the bed and shimmy them on. “So, looks like you’re going old school tomorrow. Just you, yourself, and Miss Righty.” 

The way you grin to yourself as you pull your shirt over your head annoys him. He hates for any one, especially just some girl he hooks up with, to feel that they’ve got anything over him.

“Bold of you to assume you’re the only girl I call when I need to get off.” He pushes, raising an eyebrow at you. Uninterestedly you roll your eyes at him.

“Not only,” you smirk to yourself, “but best.” He’s trying to best you, but you’re not like all the other insecure girls he messes around with. You know what you’ve got, and you know what it’s worth.

“Again,” it was Calum’s turn to smirk at you. “Bold assumption”. Your only response it to roll your eyes as you bend over to pull on your shoes.

“I mean, for the past three weeks you’ve called me, what,” You turn your eyes towards the ceiling and scrunch your face pretending to think. For added measure you use one finger to solve an imaginary equation in the air. “Oh that’s right, every night.”

You won’t back down. But Calum won’t either.

“Yea, and who do you think I’ve called every morning?” Calum smirks triumphantly. You say nothing as you grab your purse and head for the door.

“Good, then call one of them.” You say it and mean it. Just like it was for Calum, to you this arrangement was simply a business transaction. A mutual exchange of sexual favors. Nothing more. 

“See ya.” You call over your shoulder as you finally walk out of the room. Leaving Calum naked and alone in his bed.

*****CALUM’S POV*****

Friday night. Exactly 22 hours since I last got off. I’m not OCD or anything. It’s just that over the years I’ve found that keeping a strict “booty-call” schedule made it easier to keep track of my endeavors. Not to mention it prevents the always awkward “two booty-calls running into each other” situation. If you’ve never experienced one chick leaving your room half naked, while another chick is walking in ready to smash, trust me – you don’t want to go there. However, it did make for some pretty hot hate-sex.

Not that the schedule really mattered much lately. There was really only one time to account for. (Y/N)’s time. Every night for the past couple weeks. 10 o’clock on the dot is her call time. Usually she won’t get here until about midnight, but that works out perfectly for me. The later it is the less likely she’ll be to try and hang out, or some shit, afterwards.

Throwing the weight of my body on the bed, I pull my phone out of my tight jean pocket and call her.

It’s not until she doesn’t answer that I remember about the bullshit “plans” she told me she had.  Whether they are real or not, they’ll just have to wait. Because right now, I need her. Well, my dick does anyway.

I call again. This time the phone rings twice and then goes straight to voicemail.

She sent me to voicemail.

This is probably all just some elaborate scheme to make me think she actually has better things to do than fuck me.

Two can play at that game

I toss my phone on the bed and head towards the bathroom. The sound of my phone vibrating on the bed makes me stop in my tracks. I smile to myself and eagerly make a move for the phone.

Eagerly? Why are you eager?

I blame it on my being horny. I can’t help the way my face falls with disappointment when it’s my friends contact name on my screen instead of hers.

Disappointment?

I must be really, really, horny.

“What?” I bark annoyed. It’s not actually him I’m bothered by, but he’s the one who’s available.

“Dude, where are you?” he’s yelling into the phone, and I can hear loud music blaring in the background.

“My room?” I don’t know what he wants, but if he doesn’t tell me soon this conversation is going to end.

“Oh, I figured you were at that Phi Delta party?”

“Well, I just told you I’m in my room.” I snap. “Why the hell would I be at some frat party?”

I’m far from the type. All those preppy douchebags. Running around with their gelled-hair, short shorts, and flip flops. What real man wears flip-flops other than to the beach? And even that is pushing it.

“Yea but-” the sound of his voice pulls me back to reality from my internal rant. “Your little fuck-buddy’s here so I figured-”

“Who?” I interrupt.

“Uh, you know that one chick. The one you rated best rack!”

“(Y/N)?!” I don’t know why but knowing that she was ignoring my calls, while she was probably running around with some douchey frat guy irritated me.

“Yea! Yea dude her! She looks-” Before he can even finish his sentence, I hang up the phone and grab my keys. I don’t know why I going to the party or what I’ll do when I get there, but right now all I can think about is (Y/N) laying in bed with a douche in flip-flops.

As I finally pull up in front of the huge trashy house, none of the irritation has left my body. Taking long strides, I make my way in the house and navigate through all the drunk teens determined to find (Y/N). I do a quick scan of the living room, the kitchen, the backyard, but she’s nowhere to be seen. With every room I check off the list, my fears of her being locked in one of those bedrooms upstairs with some guy grows.

Just as I’m about to storm up the stairs and kick in every door, I spot her walking through the front door, with a guy following close behind. The type of guy who looks like he wears flip flops. As I watch her grin from ear to ear, I can feel anger rumbling deep in my stomach. Suddenly the house feels hot. Too hot.

My eyes follow them into the kitchen. I count to 10, and I head towards the kitchen too.

“Wooow, hey.” I fake shocked to be running into (Y/N) here.

“Calum.” Her statement sounds more like a question as her eyes go wide.

“Plans huh?” My eyes shift to the tool standing too close to her. I mean come on its burning up in here. Definitely, too hot to be standing that close to someone.

“Yea. Uh Corey this is Calum, Calum this is my friend Corey.” Friend? Her friend Corey? And what I’m? Just Calum? What she should’ve said was ‘Douchebag this is the guy who fucks me better than anyone ever has be-‘

“Nice to meet you man.” Douchebag interrupts my perverse thoughts and reaches out to shake my hand. I don’t want to take it. Who knows where those fingers have been.

Hopefully not in her.

I choke on my own thoughts as my breathe gets caught in my throat. I burst into a fit of coughs and (Y/N) and Douchebag just stare at me like I just grew another head. Douchebag pushes his cup towards me and I take it. As I chug down the beer from his cup, I swear I can taste (Y/N)’s pussy on the rim.

His lips better have not gone anywhere near her.

I can’t stop the thoughts going through my head, or the places my fucked-up imagination keeps taking me, but I know it needs to stop.

I finish off Douchebag’s drink and hand the empty cup back to him. I can feel the alcohol immediately. My muscles ease ever so slightly and I’m starting to function like a normal human being again. I need to regain control of this situation.

“So,” I chose to not even address whatever the hell was going on with me a minute ago. “This is the hot date (Y/N) was all giddy about.” I challenge her.

“You told him this was a date?” Douchebag raises an eyebrow and turns his attention to (Y/N) who’s shooting me daggers with her eyes.

“Well I didn’t use those words exactly.” She says through gritted teeth.

“Damn this is embarrassing,” He continues. I smirk to myself and wait for the show to begin. “Because ... I’ve been telling everyone it was.”

Douche, and I can’t stress this enough, bag.

I can’t help but roll my eyes and scoff, which I play off as another cough.

“You Calum, should take care of that cough, and you Corey, follow me to the beer pong table.” I watch as she grabs his hand and pulls him back towards the living room.

I decide to stay in the kitchen and continue adding alcohol to my system. The liquor burns my throat but for the time being it stops the weird thoughts in my head and helps me think more clearly. I mean obviously I’m not jealous or anything because, why the hell would I be. He’s a douche yea, but not because he’s here with the chick I occasionally fuck. And obviously I’m not irritated with her just because she’s here with a douche. It’s just that I needed to get my dick wet and she ignored my call to be here with said douche. Like he’s somehow more important than me getting off.

I stumble back into the living room and find a spot on the couch. Of course from where I’m sitting I have the perfect view of the beer pong table, and therefore the perfect view and Miss Thing and her new boy toy.

I sit watching them as I down beer after beer. My eyes follow (Y/N) intently as she finally walks away from the table towards the kitchen again. Without thinking, my feet are carrying me to the kitchen right behind her.

“Are you like stalking me now Calum?” she spins on her heels noticing me trailing her.

“Fiesty.” I wink at her. She just rolls her eyes and continues over towards the punch bowl to refill her cup. “I just wanted to tell you how good you look tonight.” I lick my lips while allowing my eyes to rake up and down her body, paying particular attention to her breasts.

“Fuck off.” She rolls her eyes at me while shaking her head. She knows this is a game, and she’s fighting hard not to lose.

“Damn,” I place one hand on her neck tilting her head to the side. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.” I make a move to attach my lips to her neck and she lets me. And I know I’ve won. I suck at the sensitive skin and try to push my body closer to hers. “Let me take you upstairs.” I whisper into her neck.

“See I would,” she speaks but doesn’t move away from me. “But, I have a hot date to get back to.” She finally pulls away from me. “I’m just so giddy about it.” She’s mocking me. She smirks as she brushes past me leaving me and my bulge alone in the kitchen.

One hour, and too many shots later I’m still here. At this stupid frat house with these stupid people. I could’ve just gone home, but something keeps me here. I think it’s my obsession with beating (Y/N). Finally proving to her that she should’ve been in my bed with me tonight. Not here with what’s his face. When the first bit of alcohol entered my system, it helped keep my thoughts from running wild. Now that it’s pulsing through my veins as thick as my blood, the thoughts have returned.

I sit on the stairs, watching as (Y/N) grinds her perfect ass against Corbin, or whatever the hell his name was. It makes me sick. He slides his hands down her hips. He could never navigate her body as well as I do – even if she drew him a map. I’m the one that knows all the right places to touch her. I’m the one who knows all the right buttons to push. My name is the name she calls out while I pound into her.

The alcohol is mixing with my lust and my anger and it’s pushing me.

Douchebag spins (Y/N) around and wraps his hands in her hair.

The way that I do.

He tries to lean in and kiss her, but just before his lips meet hers, I’m pushing him off of her. My mind is confused but my fist are determined. I tackle him to the ground and start beating the shit out of him.

“Calum! CALUM GET OFF OF HIM!” (Y/N)’s voice pulls me off of him when no one else has been able to. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I don’t know how to answer her, because truthfully, I don’t know what I’m doing. I stand there glancing around at all the faces of the small crowd that had formed around us.

“He-You-” I was struggling to find a way to blame them for this. She stands there impatiently waiting for me to speak. Her angered expressions triggers something in me. She thinks she can stand here and face off against me. What does she think? She can intimidate me or something?

“You’re the one who should’ve answered my call!” I bite back at her. “Then I wouldn’t have had to come to this stupid ass party in the first place!”

“Calum get over yourself!” Why can’t she just let me win. Why does she have to be so damn stubborn? My body burns with rage and the faces of all these staring people aren’t making things any better.

“What the hell are you all looking at?!” I yell at the nosy ass bystanders. I probably look like a mad man. Wild hair, sweating, with knuckles busted and bleeding. I look scary enough for the crowd to scurry away in all directions turning their attention to something else.

(Y/N), along with the crowd, turns her back on me.

“Don’t,” I grab her arm and spin her back around to face me. “Turn your back on me!”

“Fuck! Off!” She emphasizes each word never letting any of the anger simmer. She jerks her arm away from me and turns her back on me again. I want to say whatever I need to to keep her from walking away from me. And of all the things I could, and probably should say, the best I can do is:

“That guy isn’t right for you!” The words taste foreign on my lips. I’ve never been one to look of for what was “right” for someone. Especially not some girl. The second the words leave my mouth I want to shove them back down my throat.

Now she’ll think she got me.

Now she’ll think she’s won.

“Right for me? Christ Calum it’s a date, not a fucking proposal!” She’s pissed, but at least she stayed. (Y/N) marches up to get in my face. She’s not done with me yet. “And what the hell do you know about right for me?! We fuck on occasion but that doesn’t mean you KNOW ME!”

She turns around and storms off. This time I let her go.

As I watch her walk away from me, I get this feeling. A feeling in the pit of my stomach. A sinking feeling.

Don’t leave me.

The thought scares me. I’ve never wanted someone to stay before, nor did I ever want to want someone to stay. But as the possibility of her staying faded -- leaving me alone -- I realized how desperately I wanted it. How desperately I needed it. Needed her.

This wasn’t a game. It never was. But as she turned her back on me, I couldn’t help but feel like I had just lost.