#so on and so forth and i’m so stressed out idk what to do for realsies

[muteflames]

i’m moving out on saturday and i’m not leaving on good terms unfortunately. :(

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

[lewisvinga]

his lucky charm | carlos sainz x fem! reader / daughter

summary; even during the most stressful moments of football, carlos needs his good luck charm, his 6 month old daughter, in his arms.

word count; 630

warnings; ? idk pero hala madrid siempreeee

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; [requests are closed] I HAD TO DO THIS😫 i’m weak for madridista carlos and i saw a video of a guy holding his daughter while watching benzema score a penalty and it reminded me of carlos ! but also, el clásico win tdy w bellingol winner tho🤭🤭🤭

masterlist !

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“Carlos, you know you can set her down in her crib, right?” Y/n asked again for the second time in 10 minutes, looking at the sleeping baby in her husband's arms.

“Ahorita no, mi amor.” [not now, my love] Carlos quickly shushed his wife as he kept his eyes on the screen.

Sometime around the second half, he had picked up little Catalina in hopes it would calm down his nerves over the Real Madrid and Manchester City match. However, when the match went into overtime, his nerves just became worse.

He was so nervous that he couldn’t help but rock back and forth which made his daughter fall into a deep slumber in his arms. It made Y/n laugh to herself. She was a fan of the Madrid-based team but not to the extent of Carlos who lives and breathes Real Madrid.

Her father-in-law even made a joke once that the Sainz’s bleed white, the team's official color. Sure, she was nervous because it was a knockout match for the top competition of club football but not nervous to the extent of her husband.

“Carlos, I really think you should put Catalina down before-“

“She’s my good luck charm!” Carlos exclaimed, holding the 6-month-old close to his chest. She even was wearing the white Real Madrid kit his father gifted them when she was born, making her even more of a ‘good luck charm’

Y/n playfully rolls her eyes at her husband's antics. She gets up to go to the kitchen to grab her phone and a bottle of water. When she walked back to the living room, she saw him biting his fingernails and kneeling on the floor instead of sitting on the couch.

“Carlos, what are you…” Her voice trailed off. She wore a confused expression as he held a now awake Catalina in one hand and the other hand kept running through his hair.

“Penalties, mi amor! Penalties!”

Y/n sat back down on the couch and held her phone up so she could record his reactions. They were down to the last penalty, the 5th one. If Real Madrid made it then that means they would pass.

Even Catalina, who doesn’t even understand what is going on, was focused on the screen as #22 for the Madrid-based team took his spot. Y/n noticed her husband holding his breath as the player swung his leg back and kicked the ball. The ball makes it in causing her husband to let out a cheer.

Carlos immediately stands up to his feet and holds Catalina out. “Mi gatita! Ganamos! Vamos a los semifinales!” [my little cat! we won! we’re going to the semifinals!] He loudly exclaimed to his 6 month old daughter who gurgled in reply. “Te dije, Y/n! [i told you] She’s our lucky charm!”

He holds her close and leaves kisses all over her chubby cheeks. Catalina squeals at the sensation of her father's beard scratching her face. She plants her hands on his face as he continues to kiss her, letting out fits of giggles.

Y/n’s heart melted at the interaction between her husband and their daughter. She knew he’d make the best girl dad the moment she found out she was pregnant. She was right, he is the best girl dad.

She couldn’t help but burst out into laughter when she heard Carlos start to sing the anthem of Real Madrid to Catalina who kept gurgling at her father's antics.

Y/n stood recording and quickly uploaded the video of her husband and daughter to Instagram, captioning it ‘a Madridista and his lucky charm🤍 hala madrid!’. She knew people would immediately fawn over their favorite driver cheering to his daughter, but for now, she was just enjoying the show he was giving with his not-so-perfect singing.

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi hello I had brain rot and popped this out! Idk if it’s an incoherent horny ramble or not but SKIDIBOP MM DADA BOOM💥💥🤯🤯🤯

Rating: Explicit

Tags: A/B/O, Alpha!bucky, omega!reader, reader is inhuman and former hydra asset, confessions of love, mating cycles, TW//non-descript sexual assault, horrible self talk, hydra trash party tendencies, Sweet fluffy big boy Buck, breeding kink, marathon sex, pnv!sex, kinda feral ass behavior, scenting n marking

@lovelykhaleesiii @godrakin @borikenlove @ilikeitbetterangsty @connorsui I think I got my Bucky slores all counted out ;)

Feral. - B. Barnes

Bucky was panicking, sour pheromones leaking from his pores. He was an alpha, technically, but would be entering his first rut after years of chemical castration by Hydra. Rendered him beta. Now it was coming up on him, soon— you could smell that much.

Being one of the few omegas around that offered to help him out, your own powers would ease the inevitable roughness of a feral Alpha. Bucky chose you due to your close friendship, both Hydra superpowered assets. You guys could relate to each other. Although you never had to miss a heat, your handler taking full advantage of your needy state.

Bastard.

Bucky had all the signs of rut coming up; aggression, hypersensitivity, appetite, and smelling up the entire room. Stark had banned Buck to his apartment citing, “It fucking stinks, go wear him out for the love of God.” You had grabbed your clothes and favorite nesting blankets to join the brunette soon after.

Subtle cramps made you shift, the fuckers scent alone would send you into a synced heat. He smelled good, like a woodsy smell, a winter’s day, all that sappy nonsense. Bucky grunted, “What if I hurt you? Like bite your mating gland without meaning it?”

You tapped your neck, nail clicking on an invisible collar. Bucky stopped in his tracks, brows furrowing. “They have guards for that. You can lick and scent all you want but no bitesies Barnes.” He groaned, “Thank god for the future, I guess.” Another cramp hit you, hissing involuntarily at the pain.

Blue eyes flicked to you, him coming close to you. He asked gently, “What’s wrong?” You clenched your teeth and gritted out, “You. Going to send me into heat soon so stop fighting it and worrying.” Bucky’s eyes widened and he gulped, coming to terms with the reality of the situation. Fucking his good friend, you, who he had intensely mooned over for a while now.

The brunette nodded and gestured, “Do you need to nest first? I’m just going to, uh, eat a little more.” You rolled your eyes at his obvious stress eating. He was cutely fluffy now from the transition of Romania to the Avengers compound, trying to adjust. Cramp, ow. Grabbing the blankets you mounded and moulded them to your own liking. Bucky’s scent only made it better, you taking a deep inhale.

You cried out as the first real pang of heat hit you, slick gushing forth, sending you into the nest face first— drooling and whining for Bucky. Usually you used suppressants, hating how submissive and fucking stupid you got, the intense emotions brought up old memories. But not this cycle, waiting for Bucky had you back to stupidtown.

Bucky almost snarled in concern, swallowing down his protein bar and crawling onto the bed. You clawed at your clothes, ripping off the top easily. “Buuuck, help, leggings, stupid!,” you managed. The brunette yanked down your legging and underwear, growling, “Don’t call yourself that— fucking hell!”

Oh. There it was. He’d finally hit it. 

Bucky groaned deeply, taking off his clothes haphazardly, you could hear the ripping and tossing while drooling on a blanket, biting down in agony. You whined, “C’mon Alpha, knot, need it, fill my pussy up!” The normal you cringed on in the inside, but Bucky nodded along. He rasped, “Fuck yes, yes, gonna fill my pretty ‘mega up.”

You could almost purr at Barnes referring you as ‘his’.

Buck’s mismatched hands gripped your hips, sliding an impossibly fat cock between your weeping folds. A shiver wracked your spine, mewing and crying his name at the feeling. He rumbled in that Alpha timbre, “Be a good omega and just take it, make it look easy, please.” By the end of the sentence your sweet Bucky had leaked out some. Turning around to gaze at him he slid in your cunt with a grunt, fangs bared and eyes blazing.

Swollen and fucking hot he speared you fully, stretching and overfilling underused pussy. It had been so long since you’d fucked someone and damn you were glad it was him. Your pussy ached and widened around him, gushing profuse slick. Buck groaned and snapped his hips forward, dragging along everything. He let out a strangled moan, “Fuck, dolly, so goddamn tight. Gonna bl-blow fast.”

“Hurry up and fuck me then!”

A rough smack to your ass had you shutting up with a whimper. Bucky jackhammered your pussy, grunting and gasping, poor thing’s dick probably hurting. His hips smacked into your own, a metal hand pushing at the small of your back for a different angle. You wailed, Bucky cursed and pressed his soft belly to your back, chomping and nosing eagerly at the protected mating gland.

He couldn’t get enough of it, moaning and lapping like a baby alpha fucking his first rut toy. Big hands explored your body, one coming down to toy with your oversensitive clit, making you gush further. The closeness and angle had you whimpering, need forcing you to whine, “Oh, Buck, kiss me, please!”

He blinked dumbly at you, lips swollen from mauling your scent glands. You whimpered, emotions immediately jumping to: oh he hates you, used up omega. The alpha frowned and seized forward clumsily, noses mashing together as he kissed you. He still fucked you raggedly, cock swelling and pulling at your walls.

A pink tongue darted out to claim you, Bucky getting the point and tilting his head for better access to your mouth. He moaned desperately, lips driving across yours wet and messy. You threw back an arm to cradle silky-soft brown hair, fucking back onto that thick cock. “Fuuuck, knot me up baby, need it.” Bucky rasped back, “Yeah?”

“Want it, wan’ your knot, feel s’good,” came the resounding whimper.

Bucky kissed you harder, moaning into your mouth as he fucked deeper, more shallow thrusts than anything now, thick fingers pulling at your clit. He growled, “Omega, so tight— mine.” He shoved your hips flush to him, groaning chest deep and guttural as his knot popped and blew inside. You wailed and scrambled around him, that hot cum painting your insides.

Bucky whined deep in his chest, gasping against you, holding squirming hips still as he filled you up. The Alpha lapped and scented you further, murmuring dazedly, “Won’t be able to smell like another alpha again. Never.” His fingers dug into the softness of your hips, locked in now. You panted and shoved your face into the blankets, overwhelmed.

“Jus’ move to the side,” you said quietly. He gently, so very gently, eased the pair of you to the side. The knot pulled a bit, making both of you hiss. Now spooned in the fucked up nest, Bucky seemed to be dozing off, nose shoved into your mating gland, puffing softly. He slung an arm around you, making sure his entire body was plastered to your own.

Some alphas were clingy like that. Not many. Heat abated by Bucky’s knot— your mind inevitably cleared up. Emotions and old thoughts swirled in your brain. Sometimes you’d have to go through heat with a random elite of the world, them getting a present with the inhuman omega. Once you’d been through the humiliation of being used they’d dump you off with your handler, Sitwell.

He made sure to let you know you were nothing but a whore for Hydra. Used to the point where you were nothing but an easy fuck. “No self-respecting alpha would mate you,” he’d tut while inside you. Your chest clenched up, stupid stupid stupid emotions making your eyes burn.

In the same horrid voice as Jasper your mind hissed. Bucky wouldn’t want you. He knew you were easy and used to ruts. You couldn’t wash off the years of filth and scars on your nape. The great Bucky Barnes would get through this first rut and go find a more demure, self-respecting omega. Hot tears pricked at your eyes, chest beginning to heave.

Bucky’s hand came up quickly, cupping your cheek to get a look. His thick brows furrowed at your likely pitiful expression. “What’s wrong sweetheart? Woke me up when ya’ soured, you hurting?” His concerned expression made you cry harder— chest aching for this to never end. The alpha tightened himself to you, a big thumb wiping your tears. His sculpted lips pulled into a frown.

“I-it’s stupid, been a long time for me too, sorry,” you apologized.

He didn’t seem phased, concern wafting off him in waves. The former assassin practically cooed, “Hey now, seriously, what’s wrong? Spit it out baby, I know you better than that.” You stared into dead serious eyes, knowing deep down Buck would win this contest. Mouth gaping in horror you had no clue how to respond.

“C’mon ‘mega, breaking a man’s heart,” he begged soft and sweet.

Turning away from his gaze, Buck’s hand gently pulled you back with a huff. Taking a deep breath you rambled manically, “I stopped my heats after getting out of Hydra. It brings back…stuff. But I wanted to be there for you and I know I’m an easy option and all, I mean being the pass around for whatever need obviously I know how to handle Alphas.” A titanium thumb in your mouth had you rendered mute with a sudden squeak.

His face softened, pheromones swelling and making you feel woozy. Strong fucking Alpha. The anxiety in your chest abated from the scent. He asked, “Do you really think I’d care about your past?” You shrugged lightly, unsure. Blue eyes turned hard, “Give me a list and if they ain’t dead I’ll personally go castrate them.” Bucky took a deep inhale of you again, relaxing some.

“Look at me.”

You peeped nervously.

“When you offered to help I thought my dreams were coming true,” he pecked your temple, “You’re the only one I want, was gonna tough it out if the only girl I care about didn’t volunteer.” You smacked a big shoulder in shock, squeaking, “No- no you’re lying- this is a joke.” Bucky shoved his knot a fraction deeper inside of you, still swollen to hell.

He deadpanned, “Does this seem like a joke to you? I wish the damn thing would deflate so I can fuck your pretty self already. Been lovin’ you for awhile now.”

Whimpering in desire you clenched down involuntarily, Bucky’s eyes rolling back with a groan. He kissed you again, breathlessly laughing, “I thought you’d think I’m too crazy, overweight, and a load of baggage.” Smooching him back you shook your head to declare, “No, no, you’re perfect as is. This is perfect. Don’t want it to end. Love you too.”

“It doesn’t have to, babydoll,” he cooed into your lips.

After confessing one’s feelings, fucking your official Alpha was much more intense. You’d talked it out with him waiting on the knot to deflate, both of you self-conscious balls of anxiety causing the miscommunication. In full, fuck Hydra with a fiery sword.

You’d grown more heat dazed first, losing any touch to speak normally, writhing around. Buck played with your clit until you’d cum two times, chanting his name like a litany. He was goading you on with a smirk the entire time, cocky as hell now, “Yeah, that’s it, squirt for your fuckin’ Alpha.” Or he’d groan in your ear, “Good girlll, yeah, smell so sweet.”

His knot finally went down and now half crazed you rutted back on Bucky’s cock with hoarse shouts, biting into a blanket. He met you eagerly, slapping your ass and talking non-stop. The brunette moaned, “Goddamn baby, fucking ah, sh-shit!” He nudged thick thighs inside your own, using strong hands to pull you onto him. The whole place smelled of sex pheromones.

“Gonna be my big Alpha and breed me up?,” you teased deliriously, not even sure where this came from.

Bucky rumbled deep in his chest, one of those possessive hands pulling you upright to lock around a slim throat. He rasped in your ear, hot breath puffing, “I’ll fuckin’ give you some pups, s’that what you want?” His hips stuttered, cock beginning to swell again as you wailed. Please please please.

“Make you mine for good,” he nipped at the covered mating gland again, “I’d kill anyone who’d take my precious omega away from me, killing anyone who hurt you, mhm.” You turned your head to kiss his swollen lips, hand digging into his hair as the Alpha dug into you. His soft belly fit perfectly into the arch of your back, hips clapping against your slickened cunt and ass. Your brain purred about how big and perfect he was, a good protector.

Bucky begged suddenly, thrusts sloppy and stilted, “Rip th-that collar off, lemme bite, c’mon love— only one I want, make you a mama.” His lips insistently kissed, hands almost frantically grasping you. A bolt of heady arousal spiked up your belly, the need to be claimed and mated taking over. Bucky as yours sealed with his pretty white teeth, you dripped more at the thought.

Pressing the release on the collar you rocketed into a perfect, quiet, blank euphoria at the feeling of Bucky’s teeth piercing your skin. Things felt complete. You sighed in relief, the held on disgust and shame floating away. Coming back to within seconds you snarled and locked onto his pulsing neck, sealing the bite with a lap. Bucky gutturally groaned, knot popping once again, him following you down to the bed.

The pair of you didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity, hoarsely catching breath, living in the moment. Bucky nosed at the now swollen patch on your neck, commenting dopily, “Wonder what Tony’s gonna say when you pop back out with this.” You hummed and squeezed the big arm around your waist.

“He’ll probably stutter for a minute and then act like he knew all along. Steve won’t be surprised.”

Bucky laughed, “He never is.”

His hand splayed out against your stomach, murmuring, “I know you’re on the pill but I meant what I said. Wanna make the ‘mega I love bred up.” You possibly couldn’t get another orgasm out but his gravelly tone and words made you clench. Touching the bond mark you replied, “Wanna make the alpha I love a daddy.”

He groaned, blues rolling up, “Fuck, yes.”

[boydepartment]

idk what you can turn this into but jay asking for lip balm so you apply some on your lips and start making out with him

cherry- park jongseong oneshot

a/n: sorry this took a bit :( i was working on my spooktober and homework. also i hope this oneshot is okay. i’m not very good at like makeout scenes tbh :/ so i hope it’s okay :(

MASTERLIST

warnings- obv making out, probably cursing he’s americain - lowercase intended

wc- 150-250

yours and jay’s relationship was always sort of blurry. the perfect trope to describe you both was “not dating but DEFINITELY not just friends.”

it hadn’t even crossed the lines of friends with benefits either. it was a weird grey area where you both have shared kisses that you remembered and some that were hard to recall, and if someone talked to you to him the other would get inevitably jealous.

it was a weird blurry line that made your own vision hazy when you thought about it too much. being around your friend was intoxicating to you. god forbid he wore his glasses around you, or wore that cologne that smelled a little too good.

you sat at the kitchen table of his home, he had a break and was housesitting for his parents. you decided to join him due to not getting out of the house recently, too busy with school, and your only close friend being busy preparing for tour.

you chewed on your pencil as you read over the notes for your class, it was complicated and it stressed you out. you started writing again and your chewing was drawn to your lip. you always had this horrible habit, jay would always tell you to knock it off but he’d never tell you why. you’d just assumed that it was because it was bad for you, that it’d bust your lip open eventually.

noticing how chapped they were, you dug through your bag in search for some lip balm. you found your favorite and applied it(like a normal person.) you’ve had this same flavor for years, cherry. classic.

at the very same moment your friend walked in, he had just got back from a phone call and he leaned over the table to see what you were working on. jay didn’t have personal space when it came to you. his hoodie strings waving back and forth near you.

“molecular biology?”

you hummed and finished putting on your lip balm. jay must’ve smelled the cherry on your lips and looked down at you. taking off his glasses and setting them down on the table near your laptop.

“where do you get that chapstick anyways? they don’t sell out ever?” his tone almost came off as annoyed.

you kept writing and answered, “i don’t remember maybe like the convenience store down the street. i’ve had it forever. chapstick lasts me a long time.”

jay knew you’ve had it forever, everytime you put on that damn chapstick, he couldn’t help the thoughts that would run through his head. the smell enough drove him crazy. jay sat down next to you, fairly close and moved hair out of your face.

“can i have some then?”

your eyes were drawn away from your work and they met with his. his gaze was intense, especially when his eyes kept flickering from your eyes to your lips.

adorned in that fucking chapstick.

his hand was still softly caressing your face, you grabbed the collar of his hoodie and finally kissed him. the taste of your chapstick was a drug to jay, and you weren’t about to cut him off. you’d happily enable him.

his hands trailed down to your waist to the leg of the chair. using the chair he pulled you closer to him effortlessly. how that was even possible- you didn’t know.

when you pulled away for air, jay pulled you back in to kiss him again, his hands traveling up from your knees to your waist. his hands shaking, they only shook when he was physically trying to hold himself back.

your breath hitched when you felt his lips hit your neck. softly he let his teeth nip you. jay was this close to snapping. especially when he got flashes of every time someone got a little too close to you for his liking. it drove him insane, mad, animalistic in a sense. he let himself lose control as he sucked love bites onto your skin. your chest heaved and he ripped you from your chair to sit on his lap.

“jay-“

“what.” it came off as a whisper, his hands tightening on you. the tone of voice he used didn’t even make it a question. his head immediately went back to your neck to mark you up more. you were his, even if this relationship status was a grey area. you belonged to him.

“you’re driving me crazy.”

you felt his smirk against your skin, “you drive me crazy everyday.”

[johnsgunbelt]

mm, idk if this makes sense but i was thinking of a Konig x fem reader where she’s been dealing with pretty bad anxiety lately, being overwhelmed with just life and like the loving boyfriend he is, he does everything he can to make her feel better, even if it’s just for a moment

I'm home - König

Pairing: König x fem!reader with anxiety MDNI

Warnings: none, anxiety attack

I laid in me and König’s shared bed. He has been gone for about 4 months now on deployment. I try not to think about the time he’s been gone and I try to think about when he’ll be home, all the fun things we’ll do and all the time we’ll share together.

But then I think even more.

“What if he doesn’t make it back home? What if this time he’s gone forever? What if I have to spend the rest of my life alone? Is he okay right now??”

I kept thinking and thinking curling myself up into a ball on top of our bed rocking myself back and forth being clouded by my own thoughts. Everything was so loud I couldn’t even hear the front door unlock and him calling my name.

“Schatz, ich bin zu Hause!” (Sweetheart I'm home!) He was yelling for my name looking around the room while he took off his big boots in the hallway putting them on the shoe rack. “Schatz? Are you in our room?” He started walking up the stairs opening the bedroom door. He saw me on our bed in the middle of an anxiety attack and he quickly came to my aid. Quickly snapping me out of my thoughts he knelt beside me caressing my cheek.

“Oh Maus..I’m right here you’re okay.” He comforted me as I looked him in the eyes. I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck putting my face into the crease of his neck. “You’re home..You’re okay.” I said in between tears. He quickly picked me up off the bed wrapping my legs around him. 

“I’m home and of course I’m okay…were you worried about me just now?” He asked me with genuine concern in his voice as he drew small circles in my back trying to soothe me. “Well…Yeah that and just life it’s been grueling.” I responded back to him wiping my tears into his shirt. He then sat on our bed and made sure I was comfortable laying on him as I now moved down more to lay my head on his chest. “Please Mein süßes Mädchen don’t stress I’m here now and I promise I wouldn’t leave this world without you by my side.” He kept comforting me as he toyed with my hair twirling it around his finger and stroking it behind my ear.

“You promise?” I looked up at him with half lidded eyes seemingly tired. “I promise hübsch, Till death do us part.” He then placed a small kiss to my forehead as I started to drift to sleep. I wish everyday could be like this, even if it only lasts 15 minutes.

I tried to make this as long as I could, I added a little spin on it. I hope you don’t mind haha <3.

[saiidahyunie]

mistletoe

im nayeon x reader ; fluff, suggestive

synopsis: what was the damn golden rule for that small chrismas decoration again?

wc: 2.4k

warnings: cursing ; mentions of alcohol

a/n: finally done with school for the semester so we can breathe :))

nayeon is doing things to me with that first pic idk what to do with myself

—

“what do you mean you haven’t kissed her yet?!” 

“not even like a proper first kiss? what is with you y/n?!” 

a harsh groan followed by an audible slam of your rubik's cube paperweight left the comical duo of yerin and jennie taken aback of your sudden surge of anger.

“we’ve only been dating for two and a half months, and talked for almost three months before that. i don’t want to hear it.” you say, defending yourself as jennie and yerin lean back in the seats set across from your desk.

“are you sure you guys haven’t-” 

“nope, absolutely nothing like that at all, childish i know.” you huff out more softly this time, rubbing your forehead from the impounding stress your head was creating. 

“you know, for someone who’s bold enough and managed to get with nayeon, this is a shocker y/n.” jennie quirks, “i expected a whole lot more from you.” 

“ouch.” you say, placing a hand on your chest acting hurt from jennie’s astute observation.

“i’ll think of something you’ll see-”

“hi y/n.”

the three of you instantly look to the right side of your small cubicle to see nayeon standing there wearing a cropped navy blue sweater with wide fitted pants that complimented her lower figure by making her legs longer topped off with huge glasses which she stressed that it was prescription and not for show-but was cute as it fit her personality well. 

“hey nay.” you say as you stood up from your chair, walking toward her for a hug, planting a kiss on her cheek. 

“did you just finish?” 

“mmm, the meeting went a little bit longer than i thought but yeah.” nayeon replies, brushing your cheek with her hand, your face burning up a little from her touch.

“i’ll go grab my stuff and let’s get something to eat.” 

you hummed in response as you waved her off while she walked away, turning back around to see jennie and yerin subtly smirking at what they just watched. 

“that kiss wasn’t for show right?” 

“i’m still not impressed.” 

“another word from you guys and i’ll throw you through the glass.” you retorted as you started to gather your things as jennie and yerin laughed at the more visible highlight of pink spread across your face. 

—

nayeon wasn’t like most girls that you had a romantic interest in. you thought of her as like a wild card in a random selection or the joker in a simple deck of cards. this didn’t mean she was the last option, no, but it took you a while to grow fondly about everything about her. in reality, she was a really nice person to be around in addition to being a simple and reliable hard worker in the marketing team.

or so you thought when the alcohol got involved. that changed the whole dynamic between you and her. 

after a successful quarter that resulted in smashing the expected quota by over 200%, your boss jihyo suggested a team dinner in celebration of this achievement. everyone in the marketing team recreationally drank, including you, but the more lively ones in the bunch were your boss, jennie, hwasa, chaeyoung, and surprisingly nayeon. 

as the dinner progressed with more orders of food and drinks being taken, the mixture of laughs and party games enveloped the whole table. 

eating, drinking, ordering, repeat. 

eating, drinking, ordering, repeat. 

everyone at the table was already a few shots deep, but the phenomena about your coworkers was always a sight to see. chaeyoung’s concoctions with the soju, jihyo being the life of the party bringing up a new party game each time one would finish, you downing an entire glass of beer in one go leaving the whole group in shock. the list would go on and on.

but in between those lively moments and activities, the conversations were always back and forth across the table, you took this opportunity to get to know nayeon a little bit better who was sitting next to you–even if she was already hammered as it is. 

you were going back and forth with hwasa sitting across from you, arguing about how it was better to have instant noodles on a cold day and drinking an iced americano during summer. nayeon chimed in also to the debate; the cheery and upbright version of her was nonexistent as she let out her more vulgar, wild side with the more alcohol she consumed, the more antsy and physical she got. taking a break as you were about to down another shot of peach soju, you felt her hand on your shoulder as you looked over to her, staring at you. 

huh.

damn. 

was she always this good looking? 

you never saw nayeon this close up until now, but all you could think of was how round her brown eyes were; the way her smile emitted so much happiness that it could instantly charge your phone in five minutes, the way how her hair was slightly disheveled in her perfect wolf cut. her jawline looked insanely sculpted emulating a greek goddess. 

“you good nayeon?” you ask, still holding the full shot glass in your hand.

“i have my eyes on one thing here,” nayeon starts leaning a little more closer, placing a single finger tracing your neck just below your jaw, “you.” 

dropping your head down as you laughed, “you’re drunk, you don’t actually mean that.” 

“but i do.” 

you instantly look back at her, infatuated with her bold comments as she places her head on your shoulder, breathing on your neck, the strawberry scent of soju stifling your ability to speak.

“nay-”

“i like you y/n, i hope we get to know each other more.” 

the alcohol buzzing through your head hindered your ability to think straight as you downed the shot as nayeon returned to her normal sitting position, slapping the glass down on the table, sighing as the laughter popped the imaginary bubble you and nayeon were in. not a moment’s hesitation after, you whipped out your phone and clicked on the phone app, showing nayeon as she immediately took the hint, happily complying by putting her phone number for you, returning the phone back soon after.

“if you’re gonna be bold with your comments like that, how could i not be interested.” you ask her as nayeon laughed, resuming the previous conversation from before. 

not long after a string of hangouts and dates, you eventually muster up the courage to ask her properly about being in a relationship even when you jumbled up the words terribly, nayeon herself was excited to embark on a new adventure with you as her girlfriend. 

—

“alright everyone, good job today! you all have your assigned tasks for tonight’s christmas party so see you at nayeon’s tonight!” 

the annual christmas party at the end of the year was always a good time, it’s especially better if everything was already planned out and not last minute, but that wasn’t the case since the host was you and nayeon.

while you were wearing a simple santa hat, nayeon went the extra mile and wore a polar bear dress that seemed ridiculous for someone else to wear, but she looked damn good in it. nearly taking about three to four hours setting everything up across the place; red and white streamers draped across the tv shelf and curtains, the christmas tree with various ornaments and sonny angels with the treetop being an origami starlight, food nearly getting ready as you and nayeon shuffled around the house ensuring that everything is set up properly.

once the guests started coming in with their own dishes of food and gifts, the party was finally underway as everyone indulged in their plans for the next weekend or whatnot while the food was being consumed. after, the next portion of games took place with hwasa and jihyo going head to head while playing just dance as everyone gathered around to see who would get five stars from dancing to rasputin.

while everyone was hollering in front of the tv, you went to get changed into a more festive sweater in nayeon’s room. two minutes passed as you returned out to the common area where everyone was at, you notice that nayeon walked up to you from the kitchen, gently nesting her body with yours as she lets the scent of your rose perfume fill her sense of smell. 

“good to see that everyone’s having a good time.” 

“not bad for a last minute preparation.” nayeon replies back to you, kissing your neck softly that leaves you breathless for a second. 

“you haven’t drank anything yet have you?” 

“not yet.” nayeon answers as she faces you, slowly closing the distance as she nudges her nose at you. you giggle at your girlfriend’s sudden rising eagerness. 

“what’s with you today, you’ve been so lovey-” 

“hey y/n! what’s that up there?” you turn over to see jennie take notice of you and nayeon’s moment as you two look up the arching hallway opening  to see a small patch of green hanging over you with a nice bow wrapped around it.

you don’t remember hanging that up there at all.

“jennie you-” 

“guys look who’s under the mistletoe!” jennie yells as everyone turns their attention to you and nayeon were still hugging each other, getting a collection of “oohs” as you and nayeon shyly look away.

“kiss! kiss! kiss!” 

you look at nayeon again who’s blushing immensely, as you look down with the intention of what you needed to do. 

nayeon meets your gaze, her eyes conveying the same message of the shared feelings you and her have for each other as you guys begin to close the distance between your faces-inching more and more as your breaths get tangled and eventually, your lips meet hers.

the first contact sends sparks flying in your brain, her minty breath mixed in with her soft lips would only leave you wanting more. her plump, luscious lips felt like they were the missing piece that you wanted from her for so long, and now you have it. even though it was an instant second of getting lost in the taste buds of her heavenly lips, the moment was short lived only to be brought back to earth by the screaming of everyone that watched you two kiss from the couch. you give her one more peck as she is left speechless as you draw away, winking at her for agreeing with the act.

“i knew you had it in you y/n.” yerin says as you walk to the fridge, giving her a look that only screams, “now that you’ve seen it you can stop bullying me about it.” reaching down to grab two boxes of soju bottles, earning a gasp from everyone in surprise. 

“this is just the start, i got more drinks to get out later, but let's party!!” you yell out as the small crowd cheered in excitement that filling up the house.

—

the rounds of drinks made their way around everyone and the continuation of energy from the team dinner returned again inside nayeon’s place. jennie and jihyo were the ones who drank the most compared to everyone else, but their alcohol tolerance was strong to the point where they were practically sober, laughing at everyone else as the continued to take shot after shot.

you sat amongst chaeyoung, yerin, hwasa who was sprawled out on the floor, momo who was the new intern brought by jihyo grabbing another bottle of soju, and nayeon who was leaning on your back having a little too much to drink. 

as you were about to get up, nayeon stops you for a second. 

“i need some fresh air y/n.” 

“okay, i’m sweating like crazy in here anyway.” you happily oblige as you help your girlfriend up, heading to the front door and out as the cool air wraps around the two of you.

soon as you close the front door, nayeon jumps at you without warning. the light above turning on capturing the sudden motion before turning off a few seconds later.

“nay, how much have you had to drink?” you ask her as she nuzzled her nose into your exposed collarbone from the oversized sweater you were wearing.

“just enough, but i want another go.” nayeon says as you’re left confused at her open-ended proposition.

“what do you mean another go?” you ask again as she waves her hand up in the air, triggering the light to turn on again. you look up the towering archway of her house to notice a small patch of grass above you–a tiny red bow tied around it; you don’t remember putting that up there either.

before you could say anything as you return your look on nayeon, her lips crash with yours; this time with more assertiveness than the first. in a brief moment of shock, your hands naturally weaved their way on her hip and neck, pulling her closer as the heat between you two gradually grew.

“another go you meant–” you were silenced again as nayeon shuts you up with her lips, making you groan into her mouth as her hands slipped into your hair, keeping your head in place as you push her against the wall. drawing away for a quick breath before going back for more as your mind becomes clearer from the alcohol effects in your brain with every craving kiss exchanged.

the rhythm gets sloppier by the minute as nayeons fingers slither under your sweater, making you shiver from the initial contact. instead of going for another kiss, you plant your lips on her neck, gently nipping away her flawless skin, inducing a soft moan escaping her mouth as she grips your mid back tightly, nearly scratching your skin.

“fuck.” you say breathlessly as you pull away, half-lidded eyes meeting with hers as the two of you catch your breath.

“you’re so pretty.” 

“this was so much better.” nayeon says with more content in her voice, speech still somewhat slurred from the alcohol.

“sucks that i didn’t mark you bad enough though.” you say disappointingly. nayeon bites her finger as she is slightly turned on by your eagerness, the growing heat between you two overpowering the brisk cold outside the house.

“you can definitely make it up to me later y/n.”

“how much later are we talking?”

“let’s kick everyone out of the house first and then we’ll have our fun.”

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter VII : Hysminai

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: Hello tin can man nation, happy Mando Monday and one million billion trillion apologies that it’s taken me a whole goddamn month to update. This has literally never happened to me with any of my stories before, and quite frankly, it feels terrible! All I can say is that like I said in my last note, after this the story changes drastically, and I was having a difficult time crossing the bridge between how we were and how we will be (oh I sounded so philosophical, are you impressed?) I needed to figure out how it was they’d be feeling in the in-between sort of place they’re at in this chapter. Apparently, that took me a whole month to do, sometimes I think I need to get a grip or something idk. 

Anyways, more canon divergence more timeline divergence. so yes, that’s all. Here it is — it’s a little idk — idk how I feel about the chapter after all that, but it is what it is, so tell me what you think!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.0K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII : HYSMINAI

Where does unbelief begin?

Anne Carson, Glass, Irony and God

“My fucking back hurts,” he groans, flopping down on top of you. Dirty and sweaty and a little stinky from his unsuccessful hunt today, you push your hands up beneath his shirt, pulling it out from where it’s tucked in his pants to get at his skin, wrapping your legs around the tapered expanse of his strong waist.

A soft whine, as if he thinks he should argue or tell you no but can’t bring himself to. “I’m sweaty,” and then like a confession, or something frightening and shameful, “And tired, and I’m getting old,” he whispers, heavy helmet digging into the crook of your shoulder, crushing your collar bone.

“My poor baby,” you croon at him, one palm stroking the slope of his spine, the other digging beneath the layers of fabric around his neck to get at his tender nape. “You just need a bath, some rest, something to eat. It’ll all be okay after that.” And he groans, great beast that he is, rumbling through the modulator and rolling the curve of the helmet over your shoulder. You press the tips of your fingers into the thick slats of muscles along his spine, feel him jerk at a particularly sore spot, and then melt once you begin to soothe the hurt away gently. His bones seem to sag into you, the entire tremendous weight of him pressing you into the blankets until you feel like you can barely breathe. He’s a huge mass of sweltering, sweaty man, worked into exhaustion. 

To say that it had been difficult convincing him you’d be fine left on the Crest so that he could go out and hunt the bounty you’d come to Yavin 4 to retrieve, would be putting it lightly. First, he’d said you’d be coming with him, and you’d watched, patient and silent, as he’d worked himself into a knot, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself as he talked himself in and out of bringing you along several times over before he’d landed on the decision that no, you could absolutely not come out on a hunt with him – too dangerous. And so, okay, sure, whatever you say, Din. Now come sit and have some soup, and he’d grumbled and huffed and puffed the entire time while you’d stroked all the bare skin you could get at, trussed up in the armor as he was, soothing him back into calm. But then he’d come up with the brilliant plan that you’d simply return to Nevarro, jumping up to pace once again, and he’d tell Karga that he’d be unable to acquire the remaining bounties, return the pucks, and wash his hands of the Guild entirely. That idea had lasted a total of thirty seconds before you’d helpfully pointed out that the two of you still needed credits to live, fuel for the ship, food and supplies. Somehow, it seemed the practical necessity of money had slipped his mind in the midst of his stress. However, eventually, in the gentlest and most placating voice you could muster, you’d bade him to come sit with you, and crouching at your feet while you perched on your stool, fingers pressed to the tee of his vizor you’d told him that you’d learned your lesson, you weren’t going to be caught unawares again, and that he couldn’t abandon his work and his Guild because of what happened. Something about the words had felt, not necessarily like a lie, but like a falsity. There was something frightened and aware within you now. And you didn’t want to examine it closely enough to categorize it for what it truly was yet, but you knew it was there, that it’d been woken and stirred to restlessness with the appearance of the Thalassians and all they’d had to tell you about the whispers of you circulating the Outer Rim. 

And worst of all, you hadn’t told him anything of what they’d said. You hadn’t told him of the claim that there were rumors of the two of you, knowledge of what you are being passed between scheming mouths with cruel intentions. You didn’t want to worry him, you didn’t want to distract him from his work. The thought of him going out there to face unknown dangers while he left his mind here on the ship with you, worrying and fretting and not watching out for himself the way he needed to, with full attention – well, it just wasn’t a possibility. And anyways, you told yourself, liar, liar, liar, you could handle anything else that came your way. You could handle your own worry and your own fear and your own raging thoughts, what you could not handle, and this you knew with absolute certainty, was his worry and his fear. You needed him to be calm, focused, well and happy. Nothing else really mattered besides that, especially not you. 

He pulls you forward, pulling your wrists to wrap around his neck, needy, needy Mandalorian, “I’m sorry. I’m just–” a gruff sound of frustration, “Just worried.” Sometimes you think he’s the one with the ability to read minds, not you. “I’m taking you somewhere,” he says into the crook, “Once we’re done with this one.”

We. Always a we now. There is such togetherness here and now, between the two of you,

“Where?” And it’s a funny thing, always existing in the dark with him now, and you hadn’t thought about it or looked at it closely enough up until someone else, someone bad, had stepped into this comforting darkness the two of you had settled into with each other, made you realize that that's what you’ve been doing, living in the dark again. But now it’s everywhere, glaring and demanding your attention, and you can’t understand how it is that you ended up here again, a different sort of dark, surely, but still the same thing constructed in an altered form, nonetheless. Or perhaps, how or why it is that you’ve pulled him, someone that burns like a flame on their own, into your shadow. And you’ve watched him, and you know him now, so surely it must be that a man such as he could never be pulled or taken or turned into anything he didn't choose for himself because watching him is like watching a man be a god, and for a girl who’d been told all her life she was a god herself while she sat in the place of slave, it is exciting and erotic and so many things. But it is also confusing. 

And there are locked rooms inside of you: lust, grief, apathy. You would like to take a hammer to them all, but it seems that, perhaps, Din is the one taking that hammer to those doors and obliterating them for you. That help you’d always been so afraid of, he’s there to give it to you, and so the easy answer, the right answer, would seem to be for you to take that help… no? To accept what he gives you in whatever way he thinks is best because he only wants what is good for you, to help, to soften, to make things easier for you. To remove that interminable struggle you’ve found yourself in for so long, for your whole life. 

Sometimes it feels like I haven’t been happy my whole life. But I know I feel it with you.

“It’s a surprise.” Another reminder of happiness. 

It only takes him one more outing on Yavin 4, before he returns with the bounty slung over his broad shoulder. Grunts and curses as he wrestles with the heavy weight of it, stuffing it into the carbon freezer. His hair is getting too long, the rich curls peeking out beneath the lip of his helmet in the back, and the sight of them does something strange to you. A small thing like a vulnerability, a reminder that he’s only a man, only human beneath all of that beskar. That thing of fear that’s been roiling inside of you thumps and thumps and thumps, and you try and swallow it and push it down, kill it if you must, but it will not be silenced or settled. As he passes you on his way to the ladder you stop him with a small hand on his chest plate, small and seemingly insignificant in comparison to the great breadth of him – you’ve always liked that, the way that if no one knew you for what you really are, in comparison to his size and strength they’d never take you for the more dangerous one. There’s something comforting in that. You reach up to tuck the soft curls back beneath his helmet, you wish you could reach up to press a kiss to his mouth also. “Hair’s getting long,” you tell him instead. But again, he’d been distracted, worried, forgetting the small things he needed, forgetting to take care of himself. You can’t help the feeling of guilt this brings on, but then he’s gripping you around the waist and pulling you up towards himself, pressing the round of his helmet against your cheek, a hard metallic nuzzle, basically carrying you up the ladder to the cockpit with him, and you’re forced to abandon your guilt and worries for the moment. 

After a maintenance stop in Mos Eisley on the planet of Tatooine, he takes you to the terrestrial ice planet of Maldo Kreis where he tells you he’d once crash landed and come upon, believe it or not, hot springs. Nestled deep into a system of caves that run below the surface of the planet, there live a collection of hot baths. He said that the caves weren’t entirely without their threats, but that if one was careful, the baths he’d found were enough of a desolate little pocket of space that he could relax without fear of discovery. 

You’d told him that you loved water, and so he’d brought you to water he could share with you.

You watch the broad line of his shoulders as he lumbers through the icy snow, he’d wrapped you in all your layers and one of his thick capes over your own cloak so that he was sure you were as warm as possible during the short trek from the toasty interior of the Razor Crest to the cave he was familiar with. He pulls you along behind him, blaster in one hand, your fingers gripped tightly in the other, his tactical light swinging in a slow arc from side to side as the two of you make your careful progression through the dark, near silent caves. Nothing but your short, excited panting, the hollow crack of the all encompassing ice around the two of you, and his low murmurs to watch your step here and careful, cyare and step where I step; ever careful and ever cautious with you. And the cave, when he steps into the high domed cavern, the great echo of the drip, drip, dripping of the ice above melting in the rising steam, and the sight of the baths, like nothing you could have ever imagined. Nothing like the ones on Carosi XII you used to visit in your youth in the moments you found to sneak away. The bath is large, about six by ten meters in diameter and it glows. Suffused by some sort of bioluminescent light at the heart of its basin, some sort of unearthly blue light shining up from its core to alight the cavern and refract against the ice glittered walls. You stand there shocked for a moment, eyes slowly roving the large space, small and shivering and maybe even a little terrified, beside a man that on the surface would seem to the unknowing eye to be just as hard and just as frigid. “Do you like it, cyar’ika? Did I do well?” He asks you in a soft voice that holds something like boyish shyness, vulnerable uncertainty. You squeeze his arm tight, hugging it to your chest and squishing your cheek against the ice cold pauldron, burning the fine skin there. 

“Oh, Din,” you look up at him with that thing you can’t say out loud, but that you’re so entirely full of for him, “It’s so beautiful – let’s get in please. Is it safe? Please, let’s get in.” He makes an indulgent noise in his throat, extracting his arm from your tight hold to wrap it around your shoulders and urge you forward gently. 

“You get in. This is for you, little one.” And you want to argue, to say that it’s not the same without him, that it’s not worth it without him, but the water looks so lovely and warm and an azure so pure and crystalline it looks as though you’d be stepping into the heart of a diamond. He pulls his own cloak from around his shoulders and lays it on the snowy floor of the cave for you to stand on as he removes your clothes in quick, efficient movements, somehow keeping you wrapped in the layers of your own cloak and his extra cape he’d tucked you into so that you’re never entirely bared to the frigid air of the cave until he’s gently wrapping one large, gloved hand around your forearm, the other clasped at your waist to help you step into the warm bath. And that first moment of contact, submerging the tips of your toes in to your calves, knees, thighs, your hips and belly and finally your breasts, that first moment almost hurts, the shocking change from sharp cold to soothing heat burns, your skin going too tight stretched over your bones and then loose and relaxed, all strength seeming to seep from your muscles so that you’re sagging into the pool weakly with an airy moan. You float slowly out into the middle and then suddenly, remembering the most important part of the scene, you turn back to look at him, but he's still at the edge of the pool, slowly going to a crouch on his knees to watch you. He isn’t going to come in, and you try and swallow your disappointment, letting yourself sink down to the bottom, squeezing your eyes shut tightly so that all that remains is the blue glow of the pool’s luminescence. Your bare bottom settles at the base, the rocks hot against your skin, and wait there a moment, feeling as though your at the heart of a womb, nothing but a thought at the start of your life, and then pushing yourself back up, breaking the surface with a gasp, pushing the sluicing water out of your eyes, your lashes seeming to crackle and freeze at the contact with the frigid air once again. When you turn back to look at him with a wide smile, he’s slowly shaking his head at you, pissed off sound rumbling through the modulator at you staying below the surface for so long. 

You let yourself sink down until only your eyes remain above water. Stretching your toes to skim the bottom of the warm rocks at the base of the pool, and you watch him watch you, that intensity of his, so powerful it spears his visor, suffuses your entire body, moving through your limbs like electricity and pooling at the tips of your fingers and toes. You know he can see the distorted shimmer of your naked body beneath the surface of the water, the tips of your breasts, the line of your belly down to the apex of your thighs, your hair floats away from you in ghostlike fingers, as if they were reaching towards him. You suck in a tiny bit of the slightly brackish water, hold it on your tongue, and when you let your mouth break the surface you spit it towards him in a crystalline arc. “The water’s so lovely. Come hold me,” you flirt at him. He’s crouched at the edge of the pool like some metallic sentinel, entirely still, frozen in time and space. You’ll remember him like this always, you think, silent and riveted only on you. That silence of his that sometimes says so much, echoes in your mind like a shout. The helmet cocks slowly to one side, entirely predatory, and if you hadn’t come to know him as well as you have, you’d worry for a moment that he’d seem entirely unaffected, but you can make out the tiight grip of his fingers around the cap of his bent knee. The restraint in the lines of his limbs he holds himself with, and the tips of your breasts go tight and aching at the display of want, subtle and silent as it is. The stillness and the silence, he uses it as a weapon when he likes, and sometimes they hold him in reserve, but other times, they tell you so much. “Please, come join me. I won’t look. I’ll be good,” you whisper, mouth just above the surface of the water, and slowly start to tread closer to him. “I promise.”

The hand over his knee tightens, and he makes a pained, frustrated sound, spit through the modulator. He looks around the cave again, visor slowly scanning the dark crevices and passageways, and you know he’s scanning once more for heat signatures. “Turn around,” he says quietly, vizor finally coming back to you. You obey silently, treading water to the far end of the pool, as far from him as you can go, giving him space and time and privacy to divest himself of the protections of his Creed. Protections he’s ridding himself of for you. You reach the stone ledge on the opposite side of the hot spring and rest there, arms crossed over the edge and chin propped on your folded wrists, and you close your eyes and listen to the sound of him giving himself to you, the disengaging of the magnetics that hold his armor together, the hollow drop of a pauldron, another, chest plate, vambraces, the thigh and shin guards. Then the heavier thud of his helmet, and the sound of his naked sigh, your heart drops into your stomach. You bring your face down into the cove of your folded arms, hiding away, heart racing as fast as a small, hunted creature. Your water warmed arms and neck are steaming in the frozen chill of the surrounding cave, but your lower half is enveloped in all of the sensual heat of the pool. The warring sensations shiver through you, up and down the length of your spine like electricity, the back of your neck prickling and breaking out into gooseflesh. Your entire frame trembles in anticipation, everything inside going tight and hot as a flash fire, and then loose and shaky, wet and molten. You hear the rustle of clothing, his softly pained grunt and sigh from what must be him bending to shuck his boots and pants, his back hurts, and then the splash of disturbed water and a different sort of groan, one of pleasure as he submerges his sore body in all the heat of the pool. You can’t help the almost silent answering whimper that claws its way up your throat, he calls to you so strongly always, that string from rib bone to spine that you’re terrified of being without one day. Terrified of the sort of lost you’ll become if it were to ever be severed. His movements go still suddenly, all sound seeming to cut off from one moment to the next, a pressurized sort of silence so immediately jarring that for a single second of panic you’re tempted to turn around to make sure he’s still there, but then: the whisper soft pressure of a single finger dragging straight down the line of your spine. His hand unfurling to spread entirely at the small of your back, pressing you hard against the stone wall of the pool. The facade is jagged, but warmed by the volcanic heat source deep within the core of the planet, and the incongruous sensations have you breathing out a whimpered moan. “Hi,” he presses a kiss to the ball of your shoulder, the top of his dark head flashes in your peripheral vision and you snap your eyes shut quickly, and then the press of his long, hot body all along your back. His chest, his groin and the already hard cock there, the rounds of his knees at the backs of yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you away with him, lets your bodies float out into the middle of the pool. The heat is more concentrated here, as if the pool possessed its very own beating heart, warming the rest of its body, and the two of you float there, quiet, with him wrapped around you like this, the soft press of his plush mouth every once in a while, and the deep hums and rumbly sounds of his relaxed contentment. You lay your head back on his shoulder and sit in the quiet risk of this with him, but everything is so well and so peaceful that you let your mind close away that worry and that fear and that door that’d been opened inside your mind, just for now.  The galaxy is exceptionally still, here in this place with him. 

“You’re happy,” he reads your mind all the time now and amongst all the risk that surrounds the two of you, nothing bests that. “I did good. You’re happy.”

“You’re perfect,” you say in return, turning your face into his throat, hiding yourself away in his skin.

“Tell me something else that makes you happy,” he says, and a furious flush of heat floods your face, you, you want to say, you make me happier than anything, a swift frantic throbbing starting up at your throat, wrists, the backs of your knees. 

But you hold your tongue, think of another thing you’d once thought you couldn’t live without. “My blade, I think,” you say slowly. “I told you once that I, perhaps, should not have made another lightsaber.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know if I deserve it anymore. But… she’s beautiful and unique and comforting. And I wanted one. I wanted to be the bearer of a lightsaber, and so I forewent what I thought I should do, and did only what I wanted to at the time.”

“And now? Do you still think you don’t deserve it?” His voice is gentle and tentative, and you’re sure he knows these questions will only aggravate old wounds. But there is also a part of you that wants him to know anyway. Amongst all the things within you that you’d like to keep from him forever, there are others which you’d like him to understand about you, as well. Things no one else has ever or will ever know. 

“Yes, maybe more than ever.”

An admonishing click of his tongue. You know there are certain things you believe about yourself that he doesn’t agree with, you can sense it within him, and it’s the greatest gift he constantly gives you, the benefit of his doubt. “What else do you want?”

You lift your head from its hiding place in his neck, chew on the thought, peek down at his bare arms wrapped around your middle. Something about seeing them so out in the open, water strewn, the soft dark hair covering the golden brown skin and sinewy muscle feels like breaking a rule. You hold your palm hovering just beneath the surface of the water, let the tips of your fingers break the glass-like edge, the glowing light that burns beneath the rockbase of the pool suffuses between them,“Absolution, perhaps.” You.

“From what?”

“Everything.”

“From who?” You have no answer for that – a moment of shocked speechlessness. The entire galaxy. Him, above all, him. “Because you aren’t going to get it from me,” voice grave and sad and serious, gentle, as if he’s telling a very young child a very big thing. “I have nothing to absolve you of, and so I cannot give it to you.” A lie he does not know is a lie. 

I know, you breathe in the smallest voice you can. As if the quiet will prevent the words from going out into the world. Acknowledgement breathes life into a thing, and you do not, cannot, acknowledge this truth. That you have started to fear that even if he knew the truth of it all, that it would still not satiate your guilt, silence it. That, most terrifying of terrifying truths, you fear you are the only one who can give that to yourself. You wish, very badly indeed, that you had the courage to tell him the whole of it, every bad or terrible thing, the worst thing, that you could be yourself entirely. You want to ask him how he finds the courage to be so brave and so mighty all the time? You would like to say: This is me at my best. I am asking you to endure it. I know it is selfish, but it’s what I’d like anyway.

The sight of the heavy end of the Thalassian’s stick hurtling towards you flashes in your mind, the sound of your bone crunching beneath the weight. Years and years of beatings and darkness and horror. You shut your eyes to it, focus on the sound of his breaths, the drip of water, the luminescence of the pool’s hot stones glowing through the thin membrane of your eyelids, the electric blue seeping into your corneas. 

“What are you afraid of?” You ask instead. You suspect that the answer to your own courage does not necessarily lie with him, and so you alter the framing, cast it in a more revealing light. “What sorts of things worry you?” 

He thinks on it for a moment, lets his arms slip from around you to tread water, and then stillness, the sound of him cupping little pools in his palms and letting them trickle back into the bath. “I’m getting older. I worry about the day I realize I’m weaker, slower. What that’ll do to me, what it’ll feel like – to realize the tool… weapon, I’ve relied on for so long is failing me, my own body.”

“You’re not that old,” you laugh lightly, “Only the disposition of an old man.” He bumps his spine into yours, turned to face away from you now.

“Brat.” You love this game of questions. Your favorite of all the games you play together. 

“If you can look into my mind,” he says slowly, “Could you also erase my memories?” Your stomach churns with the change in direction.

“Perhaps. I… I’m not sure – I’ve never tried to do that.” You hum in nervous consideration, “I could rework them, maybe, change them. But it would be difficult to pick and choose without running the risk of wiping a mind completely, I would think.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” He’s quiet for a moment, and you listen to the rustle of the water, the lapping of his movement slicking up against your naked back. “What am I thinking about right now?” He asks suddenly, and a flush of angry heat sizzles across your face. 

“Don’t ask me those things. It’s not a game, Din.” A hypocrite in your own mind.

Another silent pause, and you can hear a smile in his voice that forces your annoyance away. “Play with me anyways,” and he bumps his back into yours again, then turns to pull you to his chest once more, drags you slowly bobbing through the water to the far end of the pool to rest on the ledge there. 

The two of you sit there back to back, and you wrap your arms around your bent knees, resting your chin against the dome of your joint and close your eyes. All of these games… But you let the Force wrap around the both of you slowly, a bubble made entirely of yourself, let it slink around him, snake up his ankle to his knee. Another up the curve of his back and over the hill of his shoulder, up the column of his neck and over his face, your power licking and tasting as it goes, feeding off of him. You listen to him gasp and can’t help but smile a little. You feel him everywhere, always, you wish – hope, he feels you like this always too. And then in, gentle as possible, like piercing the thin, delicate membrane of a piece of fruit skin, a transparent membrane, and it’s like you’re running your fingers over the contours of his present thought, held just there, tasting it off the tip of his tongue: it’s you. He’s thinking of you, and the sight of yourself within the space of his mind is jarring like a snapping bone, ragged edges of white ivory, blood red marrow. You want to jerk away immediately at the sight of yourself, but you pause, take in the sight of yourself asleep earlier on the Crest. He’d woken before you, and you’re naked and vulnerable, cheek smushed against your folded hands, hair a bedraggled mess. He drags the pad of his thumb over the swell of your breast, feels the smoothness of your skin, leans forward and crowns a fading bruise along the slope of your shoulder with a kiss by the same mouth that had placed it there earlier. You can almost taste the scent of yourself on his tongue, and you smell like him, like you belong to him. The thought that you do, that you’re his follows, charges in on the tail end of your mingled scent. Ownership so pure, so intrinsic over another being should seem wrong, no? But it’s merely fact here, as he looks upon you. And he lo– 

You pull yourself back, blinking away furious, overwhelmed, distraught tears. Tears of exaltation and such grief. This is how he sees me, you think. I am beautiful and good in his eyes. Perhaps, the greatest lie you’ve ever made him believe. 

The Thalassian crone’s voice cracks in your mind, worth nothing more than an invisible and illusory thing, The Force. He doesn’t see it yet, he still believes in the game, but fate is about to best the both of you, you’re certain of it. And you feel so fucking angry at the thought, at the reminder and memory. So frustrated that they’d found you, that they’d pierced the bubble of happiness the two of you had secluded yourselves in these past weeks together, that you were letting them disrupt it. That you couldn’t let go of the past. 

“What do you see, cyar’ika?” His voice is gentler than the water. 

“Me.” Your tears salt the pool. 

“That’s you,” he whispers, reaches back to grasp your hip. And you want to argue, to make him see the fallacy for what it is, but it’s such a lovely lie. You can’t bring yourself to ruin the dream. A sob breaks in your throat, spills out, and he turns in the water, hugs your back to himself. His face is right there, so close, out in the open. You can almost touch the dream. “Don’t cry, little one. I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry–” you gasp, press a hand over your mouth, swallow the horrible outpour back down.

“I’ve never resented my Creed more than I do right now.” He says it through clenched teeth, as if he knows he shouldn’t. “Not being able to look at your face, not being able to have you see me, to kiss you – I want to kiss you so badly.” Your heart drops down into your stomach. 

“Don’t. Don’t – you can’t. You don’t want that.”

He’s silent for a moment, stiff, and then slowly: “Why not?”

How to be honest without splitting yourself open? “You can’t give that to me, Din. I don’t– I don’t deserve it,” your voice ends on a shamed whisper. The idea of him trusting you with that last, most important thing, the sight of his face. It could never happen. Never.

“So many things you think you don’t deserve… It’s my choice, isn’t it?”

“It would be the wrong choice.”

“I’ve never done it, you know? No one has seen my face since I was a boy. The night you told me we ran the risk of you seeing me in my memory– sometimes I feel like I can’t even remember it myself. Like that isn’t even a possibility because the memory doesn’t exist. Like the face I occasionally glance at in the mirror isn’t actually me.” You could understand this so well, the phenomena of being wholly unrecognizable to yourself, and it was moments like these, when he said something that reminded you so entirely of yourself, that showed you how alike the two of you were in certain ways, that frightened you more than anything. That brought that keen sense of knowing into awareness. That made you awake to that thing you felt for him that you could not yet name or acknowledge. Acknowledging a thing brought it to life, after all. He presses another kiss over the bruise, intensifies it further with a pull of his mouth. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know. If I were ever to give it to anyone, it’d be to you.” As if he’s the one who possesses the power to read minds, not you, and you're pressing your hand over your eyes and turning in his embrace, blindly, madly shoving your face towards his and stumbling for his mouth. He grasps you around the waist, another hand to your jaw, squeezing so tight your bones feel set to burst, and with a snarl, he kisses you. Blindly, madly, like everything else this thing between the two of you has been, so full of risk. Your name in his mouth is a savage thing full of sharp teeth and want and violence, and you breathe a warbled moan into him as he pulls you further onto his lap so that you’re straddling him, aching cunt nestled against his hardness. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know,” he breathes again, licks the words onto the surface of your tongue, and you’re sure he’s trying to break you, to leave an imprint, a brand, a burn inside of you in the shape of him. Something that hurts worse than anything else ever has. It’s unfair, it is almost a cruelty, for Din– Din does not always know how a thing will end as you do. He’s absolved of such a curse, and so he must not suffer the certainty in which you’re sure there will come a time when there is a whole life of things about him which you’ll not bear witness to. It makes you cry harder, it makes you want to scream and rage and draw blood, to drink him down so that you might keep him forever. Please, please, let me keep him, let me keep him. You sob into his mouth, pull at his hair so hard he whimpers, subdues you with sharp teeth and pinching fingers. 

What is it? What is it, cyare? Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you. I cannot overcome your anguish. Your eyes are filled with darkness again, and I wish you wouldn’t cry. I know everything, and I’m still here.

You bury your face in his neck, mouth at the warm, damp salt of his skin, try and control your anguish. He doesn’t deserve these hysterics. He doesn’t deserve this. So many lies he doesn’t know you’ve embroiled him in, and you feel unfixable, like you’ll always disappoint him, like it’s inevitable. The Thalassians had been a savage reminder of this. Finally, the hiccuping cries settle, the ricocheting stone in your chest resting, and you prop your chin on his shoulder to look out at the dim surrounding cave. Steam rises off the surface of the warm pool, and the yawning mouths of the branching tributaries are pitch black holes descending into absolute darkness. You wonder, first, what it would be like to become lost in that maze of pure dark, you remember, second, that you already have been. 

“I haven’t been to a hot spring since before,” you murmur, unseeing, feel the ruffle of his overlong curls tickle your damp cheek. “I used to steal away to the ones on Carosi XII sometimes. I loved it–”

“Before…” He smoothes a large, rough paw up the sensitive line of your spine. Calluses catching at your skin, scraping and inciting. Drawing back down in a swoop to press at your tailbone, nestling his throbbing erection more snuggly between the lips of your sex. 

“My escape.” Quietly, as if speaking of it too loudly will undo the entire thing. 

“Ah.”

“It was so dark for so long,” you confess, voice full of air and ghosts.  

Both arms wrapped around your back now, he presses you tight as possible to himself, squeezes all the air and memories of the past out of your lungs. “What did it cost you? The dark, your freedom?” You wish he wouldn’t ask such things, you also want to tell him anyway. 

“Hard to define. My soul, I think. But I’m getting it back.” A soft hum, one that understands. “Have you ever felt like that… like you’d lost your soul?”

“Once or twice, maybe.” A bite to the line of muscle connecting your neck and shoulder, a slick slide of your hips ending in a jolt of pleasure. “A soul is a finicky thing to keep hold of constantly. Don’t you think?” You’ll never be happy anywhere else besides right here with him. Of this you’re absolutely certain.

“Undoubtedly. Slippery little fuckers – souls,” and his laughter is always such a gift, almost a benediction. You wrap your hand around his throat to feel the humming joy of it there, and it pulls your own from your heart, matches his happiness in the way he deserves. He deserves to have his joy reciprocated. To be with someone capable of such unadulterated happiness, that can give it to him and return it to him and amplify it ten fold. An illusory sort of thing… and Din, Din, Din deserves more than a non entity, more than something non existent. Your Mandalorian deserves so many things. You never thought it would be like this when the two of you first started this, that it would require so many things of you you’re not sure you can give. You press a soft kiss to the shell of his ear, eyes closed and safe, fingers twined through the damp curls at the back of his head. You wonder if they flop down over his forehead, if they’re laying slicked and soaking wet, pasted against his skin. You wonder what color his eyes are – dark, you think, dark and warm and rich like his hair. His scruff is grown out too, beard scratchy and a little scraggly. It leaves burns and raw marks on your skin that you press at when he’s away, not looking. The reminder of his mouth at your cunt and breasts. Another kiss to the rounding of bone behind his ear, the scrape of teeth over his jugular, the flavor of his collarbone. An entire sun inside the heart of a single man, and you wonder what that makes you. The dark sky that consumes him, perhaps? That steals the light? 

“What does your Creed cost you?”

“Everything,” he says, and your name shouts at you from his mind. The two of you are so alike in so many unknown ways again and again and again. And so many things frighten you, terrify you. You feel afraid of everything and weak and half made, only half a girl, half a creature. You don’t want him to be anything like you. You want him to be only himself full of all the greatness and goodness he possesses. 

He slides his palm between your thighs, rough fingers whispering and teasing, and then he’s pulling your hips back and notching the wide head at your entrance, wedging that thick cock inside of you, in, in, in, bumping at the mouth of your womb. No preamble, no warning, only claiming. You lay your head on his shoulder, so strong and broad, and watch your tears slide over the hill and down the valley of his back; your moan is ragged as you take him within you, and he burns inside of you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart, and there’s no reason to cry, you want to tell yourself, console yourself. He’s here, he’s as close to you as he can possibly be. And you’re happy, you are, but you are also aware. You are also yourself. You also know so many things about yourself and fate and destiny that he does not. 

“F–feel so– so fucking good, cyare.” You wrap both arms more tightly around his neck, bury your teeth in his skin, and he grips your ass with one hand, the other wrapped around your breast and pulls you harder onto his cock. “Always.”

“Din,” you whimper, clit grinding against the bone of his pelvis, little toes curling in pleasure as you moan for him.

“Yeah? Like that?” You feel him spread his knees wider beneath you, deepening the angle, and you brace your feel on the stone ledge behind him to leverage yourself better on his lap, ride him. “Fuck, yeah – just like that.” He wraps a fist in your hair, “Close your eyes. Let me see you – need to look at your face,” and he tugs your head back, chin tipped to the ceiling of the cave, throat bared, mouth hanging open. 

“Din, no– wait,” he takes too many risks. “You’re being careless–”

“Am I? I don’t give a fuck,” he grits. “I have to look at you, I have to. You can’t say no to me, you can’t tell me no.” He fucks up into you quicker, hitting that spine melting spot inside of you. “No one fucks this cunt like I do. No one,” he growls. 

No one, no one, no one. I have to look at you.

“Din, please–” you beg for something unknown. 

And he tells you that he knows and understands while he drags his fingers through your wet hair. “I know it’s so much,” and he pushes his hips up again, your cunt letting him in that little bit further, opening and blooming for him. He is changing – a changing sort of man. A phenomena of nature. He is changing you into something different. You can feel it like this hunger that cuts you in two. You fold yourself into the dream that soon your past self will be lost to you entirely if the two of you continue like this, but what worries you is that you are, in turn, changing him, as well. And you aren’t certain that whatever change wrought upon him by yourself would be something good, something that wouldn’t be damaging. 

But you… the sun could only ever change a dark thing for the better. And it was true that together you could do such incredible things, but you would not let yourself be destructive with him. You would not let yourself destroy him. “I’m not going to open my eyes,” you tell him. “I’m not going to open my eyes.”

And he begs: “Please,” but he does not say that which he’s begging for, and you won’t ask. He bends his head and pulls on the tip of your breast, sucks as much of the heavy weight of it as he can into his mouth, you’re so beautiful, he murmurs, fingertips gripping your bottom, slithering down to pet at the place where your cunt is stretched swollen around the thick root of him, wedges his fingers on either side to feel where he enters you. You rest your cheek on the crown of his head, wrapping your arms around him so that his face is buried in your breasts. The feel of his cock throbbing and swelling within you is maddening, and you’ve done this more times than you can count now, yet each time feels like there won’t be enough room within you to take him, that he’ll cleave you in two, cunt stretched to obscenity, to almost pain. The whole sun inside of a man like a god, inside of a girl who only ever wanted to be a god and failed. The whole sun illuminating the darkness into flame, and your cunt begins to pulse and flutter around him, pleasure like agony surging up your spine in electric sparks and pooling in your pelvis, tightening around him to rouse his own orgasm to spill forth and coat you from the inside. He groans savage and wanton and yours into the deep crevice of your breasts, you feel his tongue licking into the space between, tasting and branding, and you wrap around him like vines. 

Perhaps… one single moment of truth now. 

You realize you’ve never loved anything before in your entire life. You’ve never had anything to love. Din is the first. The memory of your parents, always too weak, too far removed to have ever been anything more than an acute yearning, but him, he is here, he is alive, he is with you, and you love him. 

And Din deserves so many things, but he does not deserve this. He does not deserve such a fate, such a damnation – the love of a creature such as you, a thing you’d not wish on your worst enemy. After all, it’s an impossible thing to swallow an entire sun, it’s an impossible thing to abscond entirely from the darkness. I’m sorry, you whisper as he stills within you, and he presses you so tight, as if he could squeeze out the very seed of wrongness that still lives within you.

You love him, and they will always come for you. As long as you’re alive, as long as the dark exists, as long as The Force exists they will always come for you. And one day they’ll go through him to get to you. Like some sort of grotesque chant in your mind, endlessly, without mercy, this is the only truth that remains. 

I’m sorry, you say again and again and again. 

“Cyare, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what it is.”

And a lie to comfort can surely not be such a bad thing, if done with the right intention. Surely, it cannot be such a terrible thing. “It’s only that I’m so happy,” and you know, as soon as the words leave your mouth, that he won’t believe you, but he says nothing anyways, and it only makes you feel worse, for you know that his reticence only comes by way of his own fear. He's scared for you, scared of you, of the fact that he can feel that roiling shift within you, between you, and hasn’t yet managed to solve the riddle of it, of you. You realize that here and now, he’s scared of you. And the truth of it sears you, makes you feel worse than anything the Thalassians could have ever done to you, but this is the true mark, this is the scar forming, invisible above the injury. This is the true consequence, the worry and the apprehension and the seed of fear they’d planted between the both of you. 

“I believe in you above everything else,” you tell him in lieu of all the rest, in lieu of your love. 

He’s silent for a moment, the sound of his swallowed fear, “Why does it feel…sometimes, like all you’re doing is saying goodbye to me?”

Like a lancet through the throat, like dying, something worse than the darkside, but somehow, your voice is measured and even when you tell him, “I don’t think, even if the worst happened, that I’d ever really be able to say goodbye to you.”

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[rosiesmcposies]

Do you still do X Reader requests? If so, could I please get headcanons of Miraak, Serana, and Ulfric Stormcloak (separate) having feelings for the Dragonborn, only to realize the DB already has a significant other?

yup! I still do x reader stuff and I’m now open for fallout 4 characters now to! :D I’m using tumblr on mobile browser so sorry if the formats off but thank you for the request!

Miraak

honestly accepting he had feelings for the Dragonborn was hard enough and then finding out they have a s/o? He is going through it. He’s mainly filled with anger in some sense mixed with jealousy. He’s constantly going back and forth in his mind from being mad at himself for even having these feelings to being mad at their s/o, in his eyes they will never be good enough for the Dragon born. Miraak is definitely not one to tell the Dragon born EVER though. He tries to contain his emotions so it’s not obvious but if you look hard enough it’s pretty easy to tell. He’s praying for the downfall of the relationship, but also he’s like “as long as their happy I guess but don’t settle for less.” He’s the biggest hater out there.

Serana

Serana also had a hard time accepting her feelings but for much different reasons, she didn’t want to be vulnerable in that way. She had planned on telling the dragon born but she kept on pushing it off mentally going back and forth on wether she should tell them or not. After finding out they had a s/o Serana was sad but relieved she found out before she told them. She was happy they had someone but it was still a lot to deal with. Serana will tell them eventually, but she isn’t asking them out, she just wants to communicate how she feels about them, which is still really hard but she’s less stressed than before. She has an open and honest talk and hopes the feelings go away, she does isolate herself for a bit, just so she can be alone with herself and her thoughts.

Ulfric

honestly I don’t know much abt ulfric but I think he’d just like accept it. He’d be upset for sure but idk I think his confidence would like prevent him from being…distraught? He’s just a little sad by it and like gives himself a pep talk like “you are strong and could have anyone you want. Do not stress.” Idk I don’t know ulfric well bc I don’t rlly talk w him in game so that’s just what I imagined.

[circuses-and-childhoodtrauma]

It’s the fact that this whole plot point could be turned into something soooo much more complex so easily if you were to really utilize Ray and Drex’s characters to their full extent. And this doesn’t mean that I’m disappointed with how they use these characters now (although I kinda am but for a number of reasons) and I don’t blame the show because it’s ultimately comedic and it has a different purpose, but the content is there and there’s so much potential.

We all know Ray’s ideal type, shown in a lot of different instances in the show: blonde, skinny women, often ditzy sure, models, but the one bit that surpasses everything is when they’re moms (I’ve actually written something separate on his mom obsession so lmk if you guys would like to hear about that sometime). It’s so common that it’s the first thing to come to mind when thinking about Ray’s interests. Now here’s the thing, Ray is shown to have such a “true connection” with Credenza, so much so that she seems to be portrayed as his perfect woman, beyond Henry’s mom even. They have random things in common that are stressed like they’re soulmates (idk if anyone likes this relationship, I personally hate the idea of Ray in a relationship), and she’s a mom.

Do you think they’d be together if she wasn’t a mom? It’s stressed so much as a clear bottom line to keep Ray’s interest for a number of reasons (again, I have written on this and i would love to fix up the work and post it if there’s interest). I do not believe that he would want this relationship if she wasn’t, just due to the basis of that being such an integral part of his character.

I bet you’re wondering how this plays into Drex at all, and this is where the potential gets truly astounding. Drex, all his life, has been led by revenge. He wants to prove himself, he wanted to take over as Captain Man and be better, better than Ray, to prove that he can. He wants to, and yet he never has. Time and time again he’s failed to do the one thing he wants; he just keeps losing.

But this here is new.

You see there a specific factor that now applies a new layer to this. Drex is the person who made Credenza a mother. He is the reason that she is Ray’s perfect woman. And that? That’s a win. No matter what he does, Drex has that. He won. And he didn’t even know that he’d done it.

I’d just like the see the absolute hatred in Ray’s entire being and, in turn, the feeling of victory and smugness that it brings forth in Drex. I want him to point out that Ray’s “perfect woman” liked him first. and I don’t mean this in some stupid fighting for her affections thing which I’m really really hoping the episode won’t do. Because it’s not about Credenza, and it’s not even about Buddy. It’s about Drex and Ray. It’s about the way Drex’s only romantic love interest in the whole show happens to be Ray’s perfect woman. It’s about how Drex modeled his only relationship (if it was even a relationship) after the interests of his father figure. Just for once, I want this show to go a little deeper than surface level jokes, it’s my one big wish before the show is over forever 😭🙏

[bonnibuckets]

idk but let's say this headcannon where metkayina reader is becoming a healer (not tsahik, but just a healer like a school nurse but BETTER) and neteyam is her best friend and always helping her out when she's stressing about whether she would pass the healing test. after the battle and neteyam gets

healer | neteyam

reader is a healer and when they fight the humans on the boat neteyam tells them to stay back and they don’t (yolo) and they finds neteyam shot and take him back to the village

i messaged them and this is basically the plot, their ask got cut short on accident (reader is gn! :D) semi spoilers also almost death!

It wasn’t too long before your test to become a healer, and ronal was teaching you and making you an underling. “I’m so nervous teyam!” you said groaning and ruffling your hair “it’ll be alright you’re an amazing healer,” he said resting his hand on your shoulder “even before ronal was teaching you! I know you’ll do great” he smiled warmly.

“Yeah.. i’m just scared that i won’t pass because of something stupid— i always manage to mess things up” you said palming your face. “Nun-uh! i think you’re amazing i’ve seen what you can do” neteyam said grabbing your hands and staring into your eyes lovingly.

—

“Stay please, i want— no i need you to be safe” neteyam looked into your eyes pleading. You felt his anxiety and fear through his words and eyes. “Promise me teyam you’ll be safe too okay?” you said cupping his face “of course, i promise,” he said holding your hand.

‘Be safe’ were your last words to him before disaster hit.

—

It’d been too long— way too long since you had heard from neteyam and that made you worried sick. You paced the beach back and forth as your stomach did backflips “what is taking so long” you mumbled. You were debating going to get him but you told him you’d stay— ‘but what if he’s hurt?’ you thought panicking. ‘But he told me to stay— i’ll only get in the way’ your thoughts were contradicting and you were a nervous wreck.

‘But what if they need my help’ you thought biting your nails “fuck it” you said stopping in your tracks. “He can be mad later” you mumbled and grabbed your bag of travel medicine supplies and your knife. “Now or never” you whispered to yourself to make sure you’d follow through, then you got on your ilu and set off.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you saw the demon ship— you pushed on, needless to say, you had to be brave for neteyam. You looked around and dove underwater and saw ilus by brothers rock and you immediately swam over. You reemerged and saw the sully’s gathering, and you felt your stomach drop.

You immediately rushed in and saw neteyam, “neteyam!” you weeped as you saw his brother lo’ak putting pressure on his wound. “Please help!” tsireya cried holding kiri’s hand, “where are your parents?!” you tried to sound calm as you could. “They’re on the ship” tuk said crying hysterically as kiri pulled her close.

You took in a shaky breath as you looked at neteyam and your heart broke. “It’s going to be okay teyam i’m here okay” you smiled as tears rolled down your face. “T-thank you” neteyam smiled weakly cupping your face “don’t s-suppose this could-d count as your t-test” he laughed before coughing. You cried harder and smiled holding his hand “i better pass”.

You then dug in your bag and got out cloth and medicine to help with the pain, “lo’ak stuff this into his wound— it will hurt” you said firmly as you put the medicine into neteyam’s mouth “swallow, now here squeeze my hand because this will hurt teyam” you half smiled as you wiped his sweaty forehead. “Okay i’m ready” he said only focusing on you as lo’ak packed his wound. “Holy shit!” neteyam groaned and threw his head back “i know i know” you winced seeing him in pain.

“Okay we only have so much time, get him on my ilu lo’ak, tsireya watch tuk and kiri tell your parents whenever you can that i took neteyam to the village” you said pointing and making sure they understood before setting out.

Your shoulders immediately dropped as you got out far enough and tears came crashing down your face, “you better fucking make it neteyam” you whispered. You stayed at the surface to avoid making neteyam do any other unnecessary work. “Stay with me” you said patting neteyam as he grabbed your hand “m okay promise” he sighed closing his eyes trying to slow down his heart.

You made it to the village and held neteyam in your arms “help please!” you screamed. You were immediately found and many people came surrounding you “ronal i need ronal!” you cried and pushed people out of the way. You saw her and rushed over “help he’s been shot by sky demons!” you said pleading as your heart was hammering out of your chest.

Ronal nodded and led you to her marui and you immediately went into action. You applied pressure to his wound as you asked ronal to hand you some medicine you had in your bag. “I need tawtsngal and paywll” you pointed as you held cloth onto neteyam. Sweat was dripping down your face and you wiped it away quickly. Ronal handed you the medicine and you looked at her “i’m going to roll him over check to see if the sky demon’s weapon went all the way through” you said sternly.

You heaved him and ronal checked quickly “it went clean through” she nodded. “Good i won’t have to dig for it” you sarcastically chuckled. You took a deep breath and ronal grabbed your hand “it will be alright child” she said staring into your eyes as you let out a breath through your mouth. “I know,” you said as tears welled in your eyes she quickly switched and was applying pressure as you opened the paywll and mixed it to form a paste.

Ronal lifted the cloth and you both sat his unconscious body up and you smeared the paste on the entry and exit wound. Then you quickly wrapped the paste and wound with a natural bandage wrap. You both gently laid him down and you sighed heavily as your shoulders fell. “I’m going to mix the tawtsngal for when he wakes up,” you said regulating your breath as your turned around.

“Of course, i shall do some healing as well to ensure he does wake up” you whipped your head around panicked at the thought of neteyam not waking up. “Nothing to fear child he will wake,” she said waving her hand “i know, thank you” you halfheartedly smiled as you mixed the drink for neteyam.

—

You had been pacing around praying to ewya that she’d help neteyam. “I’ve done everything i can now we just wait” you jumped as ronal spoke grabbing your shoulder. “Okay thank you,” you said as you passed and went in to see him. Your heart dropped seeing him in the same position as you and ronal had left him. You sat down next to him and grabbed his hand “oh neteyam please awake” you said as your voice shook.

“I need you teyam you’re my best friend and i-i love you please wake up,” you said sobbing and holding his hand closer. “I became a healer for you,” you said trying to wipe the tears away “did you know that? Just for you so i could be your little nurse” you smiled moving his braids out of his face. “So i need you to wake up so i can continue to do that please neteyam please” you begged kissing his temple.

You were met with silence and you swallowed daggers “please” you whispered into his skin as tears fell down your face helplessly.

“W-why are you crying?” you jumped and immediately started crying harder “neteyam!” you cried as you sobbed into his chest. He chuckled weakly before coughing and hissing in pain “no stop you’ll hurt yourself” you said attempting to clean your face. “Here i made you this drink it should help,” you said helping him sit up.

He hissed and held into your hands tightly as you handed it to him, your fingers following to make sure he didn’t drop it. He was shaking and your heart sank, he drank all of it and took a deep breath. “Tawtsngal?” neteyam smiled looking at you “yep learned from the best,” you said kissing the crown of his head. “I was really scared you know,” you said resting your head on his, “i can only imagine,” neteyam said grabbing your hand.

“I’m thankful you’re here neteyam,” you said barely above a whisper “me too” neteyam matched your softness. “Don’t ever do something that stupid okay?” you said softly grabbing his hand. “I know i’m sorry,” neteyam said squeezing your hand.

—

Neteyam made a full recovery thanks to you and ronal and neteyam’s family was forever grateful for your efforts.

It was the day of your test and you were a nervous wreck. Pacing back in forth making neteyam go over the names of plants and their uses. He had the names on one side of a leaf and on the back were their usages. He went tirelessly through them as you got them all correct, but you insisted on keeping going. “Neteyam, please! I need to pass” you pleaded desperately “if i don’t remember these then i’ll definitely fail”.

Neteyam groaned and threw the leaves aside and grabbed you by your shoulders “you are going to do amazing— i promise okay” he smiled and gave you a reassuring squeeze. You nodded “and i have no doubt of your skills,” he said hugging you. “You saved my life,” he said into the crook of your neck, you took a sharp breath in remembering the pain but you exhaled and hugged neteyam tighter.

“Yea i did do that” you chuckled as he pulled away and cupped your face “there’s absolutely nothing on pandora that you cannot do and i fully believe that,” he said with a toothy grin. You smiled softly and he rested his forehead onto yours looking into your eyes “you got this okay now go show ronal how badass of a healer you are”.

a/n: i’m so sorry i haven't been updating just haven’t been taking my meds regularly so it’s affecting me 😭 and my motivation but im taking them so dw and i’m working on requests as well and thank y’all for being patient (idk if its spelled like that) i appreciate it

taglist: @d34ng3l @wekiamo @sapphicrhee @sully-stick-together @gloryy-vs @catgogrrr @kyber4crystal @kairreeee @winkingface @starfrier @lov3-bby @itsokilovemetoo @eywaheardyou @loverswiftsblog @owaowaowawa @durinsnowxii @loaksbitch



[en-vys]

ayato - doll

summary : when baizhu tells qiqi to give you your medicine she mixes it up with an identical bag containing a potion, ultimately turning you into a doll. a very cute one in fact..

warnings : not proofread, sfw, fluff, yelling, medication, thoma being clueless, smelling idk.

GREAT NOW how could you tell ayato about how you ended up like this…

“qiqi, can you send mrs. kamisato her medicine. It should be in the brown paper bag.” baizhu said, not looking up from his paperwork. qiqi nods as she lends an outstretched hand, “your medicine ms. kamisato.” “mrs!” baizhu says from the back. you giggle, “call me ms. or mrs. qiqi. do not worry” you smile as she hands you a brown paper bag.

“baizhu! this is my new medicine right?” you say, covering qiqi’s ears so your yelling could be muffled. once your hands were off her ears she asks, “why did you cover my ears?” you simply smile and say, “so i don’t startle you with my yelling.” patting her head as you left.

-

-

back at the kamisato place, ayato was stressed he couldn’t stop pondering as to what took you so long to get back… i mean baizhu was in town… and normally he’d have your medicine shipped, so what in the world took you so long to get back? his head snapped the other way as he heard the door slide. run-walking towards the front of the estate, hoping to see- “oh thoma. it’s just you.” the poor lavender eyed man seemed hopeless without you around.

he couldn’t function well from a distance, sure before he was wed to you he could live on his own, with ayaka, and thoma. but you gave his life a purpose besides working as a commissioner and being head of the kamisato clan. “oh wait, do you know where my wife is?” ayato asked thoma grabbing is shoulder, “no my lord, although she should’ve arrived 10 minutes ago.” thoma throws a thumbs up.

ayato approaches your office, sliding the door open. to see a small ragdoll, that looks suspiciously like you… horrifically detailed.. “ayaka?” ayato questions, before stepping in to craddle the doll. “hello there. you look just like my beautiful wife.” he takes a whiff of you before continuing, “and.. smell like her too..” he smiles looking at the doll once more. “but you’re not her.” he tosses you aside onto the bench by your desk, covered in throw pillows.

you tried to move, wiggling your raggedy arm around to see if it could be done. you couldn’t even make a real noise. after swinging your arm you found out you could do way more than that. you actually found out that you could stand and walk like a normal person again. you ran out of your office sprinting towards thoma.

“hel- woah! you move!” you nod your limp head as you tug on his pant leg. pointing towards your office and back at yourself. “you want to go in there?” he laughs. “not even my lord lets me go inside of his wife’s office.” he could see your stitched mouth frown. “well hey. don’t be sad.” he says while you dash towards your office, emerging with a picture of you and ayato on your wedding day.

“the mistress? she needs to come back from fetching her meds.. i offered to get it like always, but she was too stubborn and left to go to doctor baizhu herself.” shaking your wobbly head you pointed at yourself and you in the picture. “you want the dress? hah! i donmt know if they have it in your size little one.” his laughs, attract ayaka’s attention. “who are you speaking to thoma?” she questions as she looks toward the man.

“i don’t see who you are speaki- oh! hello there, you look like my sister, or my brothers wife.” you thought for a moment you pointed at yourself and the picture once more. swishing your arms back and forth indicating you were the mistress. “say. thoma.. y/n hasn’t come home yet.. has she?” “no. she hasn’t.” ayato says looking as if hes lost another messenger boy. “my dear hasn’t come home yet and i’m without a clue of what to do without her.”

he slumps down onto his mat, his light cotton candy blue hair trickling down a side of his face. “my lord!” thoma yelps, as ayaka reaches an outstretched hand to block thoma from rushing into things. “are you.. y/n?” ayaka says snapping her fingers while smiling. nodding your head up and down, ayato faces you. “i saw that doll awhile ago. she was on y/n’s desk… slumped in the chair. and hey why is that thing moving is it encha-”

“no dear brother. we must call mr. baizhu now.” he should know how to cure this… this.. potion!”

-

-

-

“oh dear. qiqi. when you gave ms. kamisato her medicine did you see another identical looking bag?” “mrs.” “now qiqi. i need you to think long and hard about what could have possibly happ-” “I saw two brown bags. i handed one to mrs. kamisato.” qiqi says, her stare boreing into the back of baizhu’s head. “did you read the names?” “there were no names sire.” baizhu scoffs, and says “qiqi i put nam-” ayato barges in a vengeful look in his eyes. “well? do you know how to fix my wife? i need her to be fixed by the end of the day so i can give her a very much needed gift… if yo-”

baizhu nods as he continues to interrogate qiqi. “i have the bottle she drank of!” thoma smiles, handing the midway full bottle to a relieved baizhu. “thank you thoma. and qiqi apologize to mr, kamisato. you have worried him dearly about his wife, and may i have a moment of privacy. ms kamisato will be transforming to her normal self very shortly.” as he closes the doors, qiqi nods, turning to ayato, she bows towards him as a sincere apology.

ayato trying to push her back to her standing position “no need for this qiqi… you were just trying to do your job sweetie.” you say, emerging from the sliding door. a very touchy ayato jumping on you. “my love! oh how i’ve missed you! thank you, very much baizhu! ” “you called and i answered. i am at your service my lord.” baizhu takes his leave, qiqi following close behind turning around so she may bow to you.

“my love! i missed you so much! how i wish you were to come back to me!” ayato says, his breath streaming down your neck. “did i hurt you when i threw you to the side?” you shook your head, trying to stand up to thank ayaka for figuring out what you were saying, but the lavender eyed man wouldn’t budge. he just held you, whispering how much he was sorry and how he couldn’t function well without knowing that you were safe in his realm.

“i love you, my muse, my everything.”

[theearthwassoup]

Hi:) how about a Wanda x Reader, where they’ve been texting on tinder for a while or something and then they meet up and have a first date where basically everything went wrong ( reservations got mixed up, started raining..idk what else) and Wanda planned the date and was sure Reader doesn’t wanna see her again but Reader actually had a pretty fun time although Wanda was so stressed about the whole thing 😂 maybe they even get interrupted by nat who was teasing Wanda because they saw her on a date and she didn’t tell anybody about it 😊

A/n: aw this is so sweet! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this warning(s): i…cannot write text messages to save my life so plz forgive that | only slight, slight, sadness happens | fluff | author might’ve had a brain fart while writing word count: 1.7k

The Perfect Date

Wanda was nervous as she waited for your response. She leaned back against the couch, fiddling with her hair as she watched the phone sitting on the table in front of her. You had been messaging back and forth for a while now and Wanda had just taken the leap. She asked you out. Your profile on the dating app had drawn her in immediately, the soft aesthetic of your picture, your timid yet confident smile. The weeks you spent talking together over text and a few calls had to be the best weeks of her life.

The phone buzzed and Wanda scrambled forward to pick it up. Excitement flooded her senses when she saw your response.

Wanda: I’ve really enjoyed talking with you, would you like to do on a date?

Y/N: yes!! when would you like to meet? I’m available anytime &lt;3

Wanda giggled as she stood up, biting her lip in excitement. She had some planning to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat on a bench, waiting nervously for Wanda to show up. You had planned to meet at 2, since your reservations at the restaurant were at 3 and it was 2:30. You opened your phone, looking to see any new text messages, only to find a blank home screen. A sinking feeling appeared in your gut and you sighed. You should’ve known better than to think that someone as amazing as Wanda would want to go on a date with yo-

“Y/N!” Wanda’s frantic, and slightly out of breath, voice interrupted your inner monologue. The red head quickly came to stand in front of you, placing her hands on her knees as she panted. She smiled sheepishly at you before explaining.

“I am so sorry, my clock was behind and I didn’t notice and-” she paused, looking you up and down making you blush, “and, and, uh, you look great.” She stuttered out, brushing hair behind her ear. You snorted before standing up, smiling at her.

“So do you.”

Wanda hesitantly took your hand in hers and the two of you walked to the restaurant, where Wanda had practically sold her soul to get reservations. Just as you had the restaurant in your sights, thunder roared in the air. Wanda closed her eyes and tried to wish away the weather but soon, heavy cold raindrops were falling from the sky, soaking your clothes and hair. You laughed, sticking a hand out to feel the rain, not caring that your makeup was probably running down your face. Wanda didn’t hear your laughter, stuck in her head as she scolded herself for not checking the weather that morning. Giggling, you opened the restaurant door, dramatically exaggerating your movements.

“After you!”

Wanda gave you a smile as she walked in and the two of you sighed at the feeling of the warm air. The hostess looked you up and down, a judgmental eyebrow raised in the air.

“Can I…help you?”

Wanda ignored the tone in the hostesses voice, merely smiling at her as excitement built up. You had told her how much you wanted to go to this particular restaurant, a place that reminded you of all the good memories of your childhood.

“I have a reservation under the name Wanda Maximoff, for two, I’m on a date.” Wanda spoke nervously as the hostess scrolled on her tablet, lips pursed together. You stood behind Wanda looking around the restaurant, the delicious smells invading your nose.

“I’m sorry, there seems to be a problem. Your reservation wasn’t put as a priority and we gave your table away.” Her voice was haughty, like she had won something. Wanda’s shoulders slumped and she was about to reason with the hostess when your voice rang out.

“Are you kidding me? Not a priority? She paid money you-” The rest of your insult was lost on Wanda, who focused on the anger in your voice. She swallowed and held back tears. She had worked so hard to make this date perfect, set up a reservation, planned a walk afterwards towards her favorite ice cream stand and then she would take you home, where you would hopefully agree to another date. But by how the night was looking already, Wanda doubted that’s what would happen.

“Y/N, it’s okay, these things happen, let’s just go.”

You, who had been ranting at the hostess, paused at Wanda’s defeated tone. You watched her leave the restaurant, standing outside where the rain had stopped. You looked back and forth between your date and the hostess before flipping the pretentious woman off and following Wanda outside. You hooked your arm through hers and laid your head on her shoulder.

“Who needs food? What about that ice cream stand you were telling me about?”

Wanda perked up at that. The ice cream stand was a perfect way to salvage the date, with the abundant flavors, the rich, creamy texture of the dessert, and the kind stature of the owner. She led you down a path in the park, surrounded by blossoming flowers and swaying trees. You laughed with Wanda as you walked down the path, taking in the beauty around you. By that, you looked at Wanda with growing affection as she told you about every plant you saw.

“Oh, do you see those dahlia’s? I planted them with my brother a few weeks ago for-” Wanda paused in her tracks, causing you to stumble lightly as you looked at her in concern.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

The ice cream stand stood where it always was with one small difference. A bright red ‘closed’ sign blinked, taunting Wanda. She unhooked her arm from yours and slumped on a wooden bench lining the pathway. Confused, you looked over to see the stand, eyes widening in realization. You sat next to Wanda on the bench, bumping her shoulder with yours.

“Wanda-”

“I’m so sorry.” She interrupted you, head falling into her hands, “This has been the worst first date ever. I should’ve planned better and now you probably don’t want to see me again.” Her voice was soft as she spoke, like she was trying not to cry. Scrambling off the bench, you kneeled in front of the red head, taking her hands in yours, making her look at you.

“What are you talking about? I am having a great time Wanda, I don’t care if it started raining, I love stormy days because they feel so relaxing. I don’t care that the rude hostess at the restaurant was classist and needed to take the stick out of her ass. I don’t even care that the ice cream stand is closed because I was with you. God, I have such a giant crush on you that you could’ve brought me to a dumpster and I would’ve seen diamonds in the trash.” You flushed deeply at your last words as you confessed how much you liked Wanda. Wanda looked at you, eyes shining but not from tears. Her sad expression melted to one of confidence, eyes boring into you as she cocked her head to the side.

“A giant crush huh?”

You punched her shoulder softly, looking away as your face flooded with heat. Wanda reached out and cupped your face in her hand making you look at her.

“I have an enormous crush on you as well.”

You smile, leaning forward to rest your forehead on hers. Wanda closed her eyes as all her disappointment from the afternoon melted away.

“Do you want to go back to my apartment? I have microwave popcorn and candy with, not to brag, a somewhat working TV.” Wanda asked, humor in her voice. You laughed as Wanda stood up, following her lead. You nodded, your hand holding hers as you walked.

“Oh, Miss Maximoff you know how to treat a lady.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Both you and Wanda changed into lounge clothes once at her apartment, you borrowing a sweatshirt she had stolen from her brother. As Wanda set up the popcorn and candy, you looked through her DVD collection, picking out To Catch A Thief from 1955. You waved the DVD, a joking smile on your face.

“I see you enjoy the classics.” You mentioned the rows of movies from old Hollywood, ranging from the 30s to late 70s. Wanda shook her head as she laughed, placing blankets on the couch.

“Hey, they’re good!”

You raised your hands in the air, laughing.

“I never said they weren’t! I’ve just never seen so many black and white covers before, unless you count my grandmothers house,” you gasped sarcastically, “Wanda are you secretly an old lady?”

Wanda threw a pillow at you in jest while you laughed, placing the DVD in it’s slot before snuggling up to Wanda on the couch. The movie started, the beautiful landscape of France filling the screen. Cary Grant appeared on screen, defending his honor as to not being responsible for the string of robberies.

“He dresses like my dad.” You whispered, making Wanda snort.

“Who does?”

A new voice rang out in the air, startling you as you threw your handful of popcorn in the air. Wanda groaned, pausing the movie.

“Natasha! What are you doing here?”

The other redhead shrugged, leaning forward to grab some popcorn and munch on the treat.

“I saw you on a date, which is funny because as your best friend, I don’t recall you mentioning any date.”

You look at Wanda, wondering what was going on.

“Oh come on seriously-”

“Yes, seriously! I was a little hurt, because as I said, as your best friend I should have hourly updates about your love life.”

Wanda threw M&Ms at her friend, holding back a laugh.

“Leave! I’ll text you later.”

Natasha sighed, walking towards the door before turning around and pointing at Wanda.

“Call.”

“Whatever! Just leave!” Wanda laughed out as her best friend left her apartment. Wanda looked at you with an apology in her eyes.

“I’m sorry about that, what hasn’t happened to mess up this date?” While her voice was joking, you saw she held worry in her eyes. You rested your head on her shoulder, looking up at her through your eyelashes.

“As far as I’m concerned, this has been the perfect date.”

a/n: i hope this was alright! Thank you for the request and for reading! I tried my best to follow the prompt and i hope it doesn’t feel too rushed!

[partiallypearl]

'cause i can't turn to you when it all falls apart - a rhogan fic

a/n: apparently i have no self control. as evidenced here, i have somehow managed to write a logan x rhuben fic?? idk man i just be doing things. no trigger warnings specified, but this fic centers around jealousy and anxiety over losing a friend. @raging-violets hope this is somewhat enjoyable lol! also tagging @ceruleanmusings and @happinessismagicc @myloveforhergoeson

heavily inspired by when it all falls apart by the veronicas

Everything is F'ed up straight from the heart Tell me what do you do, when it all falls apart Gotta pick myself up where do I start 'cause I can't turn to you when it all falls apart

Rhuben wanted nothing to do with this. It was selfish, she knew but watching Camille and Logan fawn over each other for the entire day as they walked around The Last Bookstore - an independent bookstore that Camille had seen in a magazine, wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. 

But she had a soft spot for the brunette boy, and he knew it. “Please Bella?” He had asked and like always, she crumbled. He was nervous about hanging out with Camille one on one, he had explained, and having Rhuben there would make it less stressful. 

Now, she was deeply resenting her choices as she sat and watched him flirt with Camille. 

The two of them flirted, handing each other books that they felt matched the other’s personality, neither one paying any attention to Rhuben, who was the awkward third wheel. 

But could she be a third wheel if they didn’t even realize she was still there? The thought of that made her nauseous. 

“I have to go pick up Sydney.” She said, standing up, finally gaining Logan’s attention. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Logan frowned, stepping back from Camille, and following Rhuben out of the bookstore. 

“You okay?” He asked, and Rhuben scoffed. “I’m fine Logie. Go back to your date.” 

Logan’s brow furrowed. “It’s not-it’s not a date. I thought you said that you didn’t have anything to do today? That’s why you said you could come with us.” 

“Plans change mate.” Rhuben replied simply, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. Logan’s eyes didn’t leave her. 

“Are you sure? We can go to the Grove. It’s less than 30 minutes away.” 

“No Logan.” Rhuben said, her voice snapping. “I do not want to hang out with you and your girlfriend at the mall. I need to go pick up my little brother. Just drop it god!” 

Her outburst was louder than expected, and Logan’s reaction made her cringe internally. 

He shifted back slightly, like he was scared of her hitting him. She could see him realizing his actions and crossing his arms over his chest - one of his tell tale signs of anxiety. 

“Fine. If you want to talk or… whatever. Let me know.” He said, looking her up and down before walking away. 

She swallowed slowly, her eyes brimming with tears before she shook her head. She wasn’t going to cry over a boy. 

She hadn’t done so in the past, and she wasn’t starting any time soon. 

% 

Avoiding Logan was surprisingly harder than Rhuben anticipated. 

Logically, she knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task - since so much of her life was tied into her music and subsequently whatever shenanigans BTR was up to for the day. 

Plus, with Riley and Kendall being…. whatever they were now, Rhuben often found herself accompanying her sister over to the Palm Woods so she could hang out with the boys. 

Case in point, she was currently in apartment 2J, watching as Carlos attempted to eat corn dog after corn dog while Riley was somewhere off with Kendall - either pashing him or wishing that she was. 

Rhuben rolled her eyes as Carlos choked and began coughing. 

“I told you that I didn’t think that was a smart idea mate.” She told him, and after he was able to swallow, he gave her a toothy grin. “I’m fine Rhubes.” 

She shook her head, turning her attention back to her phone, scrolling back and forth between her texts and her photo gallery. A photo of her and Logan as little kids caught her eye. 

It was a blurry photo, probably taken by Logan’s mum. The two of them were in his bedroom, dressed in pyjamas. Their arms were wrapped around each other in a fierce hug as they grinned at the camera. 

She had found the photo a few months prior in one of the few photo albums that Robert hadn’t destroyed. She had taken a photo of it on her phone, not wanting to loose it. Now, she was just sitting there, staring at it.

Before she could ruminate on that further, the front door to 2J opened, and Logan and Camille came in, lips locked in an intense kiss.

Carlos snorted before wolf whistling, and Rhuben rolled her eyes as it took a moment for the couple to realize they weren't alone.

"Sorry," Logan said breathlessly, his face covered in Camille's signature red lipstick. Camille had a blooming hickey on the side of her neck.

"Having fun mate?" Rhuben asked, doing her best to keep the hurt out of her voice. It was ridiculous, she knew that, being jealous of them for no real reason. Camille giggled, wiping her mouth. "Y'know how it is."

Rhuben raised an eyebrow before nodding slowly. "Yeah. Sure. I'll see you later Carlos."

"Are you sure?" He asked, and she nodded, giving Logan one final look. He looked at her as well, and she walked out without a second thought.

%

For the rest of the week, Rhuben did her best to stay away from Logan. She avoided the apartment, the studio and even the Palm Woods as a whole.

She was being unfair and she knew it. But she’s never been good at emotional regulation and she knows if her and Logan talk about this, everything she’s feeling will spill right out.

The soft ba dum of her AIM account gets her attention as she sits at her computer. She looks up at the screen, biting down on her lip when she sees that Logan’s typing before his first message pops up.

Dr.Logan: are you mad at me?

KangaRhubes: what makes you think that?

Dr.Logan: idk, the fact that you aren’t speaking to me? or that youve been avoiding everywhere that i usually see you?

KangaRhubes: not everything is about you logiebear

Dr.Logan: well this feels like it is

KangaRhubes: it’s fine logan. just go have fun with camille or whatever.

Dr.Logan: is that what this is about? me hanging out with camille? bella, i thought you were okay with me dating her?

KangaRhubes: i am.

Dr.Logan: then why are you being so weird about us together?

Rhuben sighed, running her fingers through her hair as she typed before erasing the message. She sat there for a moment before replying.

KangaRhubes: i just don’t like being a third wheel.

Dr.Logan: third wheel? when were you third wheeling?

Rhuben snorted, rolling her eyes.

KangaRhubes: the entire day at the bookstore mate? look, i get it, you wanna hangout with your new gf. that’s fine, but don’t abandon our friendship bc of it

She logged off just as she saw Logan begin to type a response.

“God.” She mumbled under her breath, smoothing her hands over her face.

%

“You’re mad at me.” Logan said and Rhuben rolled her eyes, turning away from him.

Her best friend, could she even call him that at the moment, grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn back to face him.

“Let go of me.” She said harshly and he obliged, still continuing to speak. “I know it. But you won’t tell me why.”

“You don’t need to know everything Logan.” She told him flatly, and he scoffed. “I think I do. Especially when my best friend ignores my AIM messages for four days in a row. Seriously Bella. What’s going on? Is it your meds? Your treatment plan?”

Rhuben rolled her eyes, scoffing. “God. I’m so glad that Dr. Logan is here to diagnose me right now!”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Yeah well your help sucks ass.” She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the wall. They stood there in silence before she finally spoke again.

“Fine. You want to know why I’m mad?” Logan nodded and Rhuben barrelled on.

“You invite me to a date with you and Camille. You act as if she’s the only important thing in your life. And then,” she stepped closer to him, poking a manicured purple nail into his chest, “only when I start pulling away and giving you space, you notice that I am not around as much. Do you know how unwanted that makes me feel?”

He doesn’t say anything in response and Rhuben looks down at her converse, her chest heaving and her hands shaking.

“I’m sorry.” Logan said, and she looked up at him. Brown eyes meet blue. He went to grab her hand and she stepped back, shaking her head.

“I fucked up. I know that.” He said , and she raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re my best friend Bella.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” She replied, looking away again. “Feels like I’m just who you call when you’re too scared to make a move on the girl you really want.”

And it’s the most honest that she had been with Logan recently. Logan nodded, his hands swaying at his side. She watched him for a second before speaking.

“I just…I need some space. From you, and Camille.”

She could see the hurt flash upon his face for a split second before he schooled his expression. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

“Okay.” Rhuben said, her eyes welling up with tears. They stood there in silence for a long moment, neither of them speaking before she sighed and pulled him into a hug.

She buried her face in his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist. They weren’t okay. They probably wouldn’t be after all this.

But right now, she still had her best friend. For as long as she could hold onto him.

[nerves-nebula]

Idk about your intentions, and feel free to ignore me if I’m wrong, but Mikey sounds like a maladaptive daydreamer lol.

Just some background, maladaptive daydreamers use these huge fictional worlds called paracosms to escape reality. Some people do it because of anxiety or stress, but some do it as like a coping mechanism (which is how I’d see Mikey doing it based on your dissociation post) People with maladaptive daydreaming can stim while doing it, like rocking back and forth, pacing, etc, but some can master the art of being able to sit still and just daydream whenever. There’s almost an addictive aspect to it, and a lot of daydreamers have to take adhd or anxiety meds to shake it

Would Mikey stim at first but learn to stay still after Splinter lectured him too many times? Would his paracosm be the book that he’s writing about killing splinter? Idk feel free to look at this like I’m crazy but this subject is very close to my heart as I’m a daydreamer myself.

OK SO like. I don't know. and I don't know if Mikey has maladaptive daydreaming for a specific reason.

That being that I'm basing him on myself. I spent a lot (AND I DO MEAN A LOT) of my time in my head as a kid. I don't really know what a paracosm is so I'm not sure if I was exploring within them. but there are huge chunks of my childhood i really only remember via the emotional exploration I was doing inside these fictional worlds. Like most of puberty for me was just imagining gay fictional gods and forbidden love and abuse and violence and at all that. and it's hard for me to tell if that was a bad thing because it's linked to a very integral part of my personality- that being the desire to tell and experience stories.

I was always dragging around paper and pencils to draw these imagined worlds. But i was also often just sitting with my eyes closed (or sometimes opened, but closed if I wanted to really focus)

if I was painfully bored, or very anxious (which happened often, basically any time i was outside the house or not watching tv or playing a game) I would do this. If I was stuck in a car or a room while my siblings were fighting violently, I would force myself to try to only think about my characters. If the talk radio host was getting on my nerves I would try to drown him out by thinking about my characters going through their worlds and getting in fights and having sex and all that stuff.

this got even better (or worse, considering how you think of it) once I got earbuds/headphones and access to my cousins old ipod. I was finally able to fully block out the world and only, ONLY ever think of my stories. just how I'd always wanted.

and sure, I was always kind of spacey, but even when I wasn't thinking of stories and art I was bad at paying attention the way adults liked. I think adults liked me more when I was just sitting there thinking anyway, instead of being hyper and then having an emotional breakdown when i realize they thought I was annoying.

There was a particularly vibrant time for daydreaming around puberty where i had dozens if not around a hundred different intricate stories that I started to overlap, just because. And I'd go through them over and over, adding or changing little things, making up reasons that the characters would all end up living in the same bunker or fighting the same enemy. making up reasons for the god of war and his little lamb prince to be torn apart. making up reasons for them to attack each other. then forcing them back together through all the trauma.

and recalling these spaces makes me kind of shiver because they're almost like real memories to me. I remember thinking of these scenarios more than I remember my real life around 11-12 years old. And i think that's largely because after I got my blackbelt at around 11 years old, my parents let me quit karate, and didn't force me to do any more sports or anything. So for the most part I legit never left the house. My entire life was in these stories and in my art.

I really only stopped doing this once I got sent off to high school at around 13-14 and was basically FORCED to participate in the real world more.

but I did that all on purpose. i was bored, and i hated other kids because they never clicked with me. and it never seemed to interrupt my life in a way that my parents noticed or cared about. in fact it was the only thing that kept me from being actively suicidal for a while there!

so like. i don't know man. i don't know.

[redsplash1]

Hi hello idk how this works + never gposed in my life so she’s doing literally nothing here but this is my char Tatake Take in her red mage fit <3 featuring Middy cuz he’s bestie. More under the cut this might get long, it’ll just be a mess of ideas with no coherency LMFAO. Currently it’s white glowing hair because it’s post SHB, where she’s channeled the light within her into something manageable, which will inevitably turn back into her original red highlights. Spoilers for like everything up to SHB btw:

Honestly her lore I keep changing back and forth cuz I didn’t start using mods till SHB 😭 (just beat it btw so 🤫 on any spoilers afterwards) Like originally she had cat ears + a tail and it was gonna be a whole thing about her being some kinda spirit/yokai from the forest LMFAO???

Rn the barebones idea I have is that she’s part dragon and hid it till SB when Rhalgr’s Reach was attacked. (I won’t even lie, I’m low(high)key inspired by Dan Heng’s lore from Honkai Star Rail, I’m even debating if I wanna steal the reincarnation thing or not 😭) so yeah she is. Old LMFAO

Zenos with his plot armor and unexplained strength ends up landing what should’ve been a killing blow on Tatake. Everyone watches on in horror, which makes way to shock as she begins to change in response to the physical stress, revealing her draconic eyes, horns, tail, and the glowing highlights of her hair signifying her power. Zenos looks on in surprise, then intrigue as he sees what the famed Warrior of Light has been hiding all this time. Afterwards, it was no trouble pushing away him and his forces back.

(This ends up creating a somewhat subplot conflict between Lyse and Tatake, as the former is angered by this reveal; why didn’t she use this power to save everyone in Rhalgr’s Reach, hell, even back at the Wall? Did Papalymo really need to die if this what their friend was capable of?)

Nobody gets an explanation from Tatake. It’s the twins who get the closest to an answer, which even then wasn’t much. Their mother figure simply says that it was of absolute importance that nobody finds out, as she hid away her draconic features almost immediately after Zenos and his forces retreated. But, she points out with a bitter smile, she supposed it was too late for that now. Alphinaud and Alisaie want to know more so badly, but Tatake’s comfort and boundaries are infinitely more important than any curiosity they have.

On the carriage to Gridania, she kept her answers to Bremondt’s questions pretty vague, aware of two sleepy twins watching with interest. (She/I started as a lancer)

So yeah you might assume HW was a very important expansion for Tatake. It was! Seeing her brethren struggle made her wish and strive for the same thing Ysayle did; peace between dragon and mankind. The dragons weren’t afraid to subtly nudge at her to be her true self, either. Tatake was also not a fan of Estinien’s views and attitude LMFAO

(It’s also the expansion where Alphinaud couldn’t help but notice the way the dragons were talking to Tatake; it didn’t seem like they were exactly referring to her status as the WoL. Of course, he had virtually no information to go off of, so he dropped that line of thinking. Later on, he’ll realize that he truly knew nothing about the Lalafell he figuratively looked up to.)

Side note, Tatake continues to hide away her features until SHB, where the absorbed Light makes it too difficult for her to do so. Fortunately, almost nobody questions it, as people on the First are a bit too focused on trying to survive their world.

Another side note! Tatake currently mains Reaper, but she is also very proficient in Dragoon, Machinist, Samurai, and Red Mage. She’s currently learning Dancer (at least, the Eorzean version of it. She was worried using the traditional dances she knew would have people asking questions), which she finds to be a good stress reliever from her troubles.

Anyways that’s all I got hahaaaaa, I stay off of tumblr and I come back just to go full send on my character 😭 whoever’s got one of those templates with questions for WoL character building plz send, I’d love to fill one of those out for my reference + understanding Tatake more as her writer