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piceuscelus · 2 years

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do it right (monday) by piceuscelus

Chapters: 1/1 (7,726 words) Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Dara Characters: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Dara (The Witcher), Minor Original Characters - Character Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Age Difference, Sex Pollen, Fuck Or Die, Magic, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Multiple Orgasms, POV Multiple, Knotting, elves have different anatomy, Kissing, Hen Llinge | Elder Speech (The Witcher), Discussion of Pregnancy, Discussion of Abortion Series: Part 1 of ciri week 2022 Summary:

“Now, are you still willing?”

He gapes for a moment. “Willing?” he asks, and then he catches up. Can we help her? We can, if there is anyone willing.

Sweet fucking Melitele.

“Yes,” he answers.

An elvish ritual has an unintended effect on Ciri, and it falls to Dara to help her.

full fic also below the cut! (the italics didn’t copy over, though, as usual, so it’ll probably read a bit more smoothly on ao3)

Ciri is…a little uncomfortable amongst the elves.

Of course, she’s grateful that they’re letting her stay – sheltering her alongside Dara, keeping her hidden from the Nilfgaardian forces combing the countryside. After everything with the doppler, it’s a relief to know that at the very least they’ll have some warning from the camp scouts before any further chaos.

She knows that at least part of the discomfort is just the background human-elf tension, that no matter how long they stay most of the group will always keep her at arm’s length and out of circles. And that – it’s fine, really. Mostly, at least. It leaves her feeling unmoored and unsteady, if she thinks too hard on it, but it’s not…it really can’t be fixed, least of all by her alone. Add in that the elves know who she is – because she and Dara had been found bickering while burying the body of a doppler, and the camp had, rightfully, had some fucking questions – and she knows that the basic level of civility she’s treated with is more than a gift.

Still, though, it’s…awkward, is probably the best way to describe it. And it’s particularly noticeable on nights like this, when she’s left alone in the tent she and Dara share with a few other strays this camp has taken in. She’s the only human in the camp – or at least, the only full human in the camp, and tonight the elves are out in the woods doing…something. A ritual, is all Dara had said, and it had been clear that the vagueness was on purpose, so she hadn’t pressed.

And it’s not really that she feels left out so much as she’s not really sure what to do with herself. Earlier in the day, while most of the camp was still preparing, she’d kept to herself and done laundry, and then helped gather water with some of the other refugees. But by now, dark has fallen, and unlike during the day, the loneliness feels…more real, now.

There’s an irrational part of her that thinks they might have abandoned her, but she knows full well it’s irrational; if they were going to abandon her they’d send her out to forage and be gone when she got back, or they never would have let her stay. They wouldn’t plan for a ritual, let Dara tell her that it was happening, and let her help gather water for it. It’s just not practical.

All the same, she feels unsettled in her skin, and the longer she stares out into the darkness of the empty camp, the worse it gets. Finally, she can’t stand the feeling anymore and stands, intending to…well, she doesn’t know – she’s intending to do something about it, but standing outside the tent and listening to the moths buzz around the last sputtering candle lanterns isn’t terribly inspiring.

And then she hears singing.

It’s faint, at first, and then louder, and she realizes that it must be coming from the elves, deeper in the woods – wherever they’ve gone to do their ritual, whatever it is. For a split second she considers going back into the tent and maybe trying to sleep, but that thought it gone nearly the moment it comes, and she realizes that she’s…moving toward it. The sound, the elves.

She shouldn’t, she knows. She should stay at the camp, should leave them to whatever they’re doing, because if they wanted to include her, Dara would have told her that. She’d be there, if she was welcome – but she’s not, so she isn’t.

All the same, her feet keep moving without her permission, and soon enough she’s seeing the light in between the trees, soft and golden and flickering but bright, and large – a bonfire, maybe, she isn’t certain. All she can see right now is the light, and the trees, and when she steps a little further, the silhouettes of the elves.

Finally, she’s able to force herself to stop moving, to not go any further and actually interrupt, crash their – whatever this is. Party feels…disrespectful.

This – it’s magic. She can feel it in the air, the faint buzz and crackle; Mousesack’s magic was different, but similar enough. The longer they all sing, the louder they get, and the stronger the charge in the air. She knows some of the words, but she can’t piece them together, and as she watches the light gets somehow brighter, and her head starts to spin.

She squeezes her eyes shut against the glow, but finds she can’t escape it; the brightness glares through her eyelids, and bringing her hands to her face barely helps, either. She stumbles back, then, turning until she can face away, but it’s like the light follows her, and the singing is even louder now, as if the elves are shouting. She scrapes her hand on bark as she stumbles again, but she doesn’t stop moving, just keeps trying to stumble away, the light and the noise following along, as if it’s chasing her.

Soon enough it’s not just the light and sound, either, it’s heat, and she collapses to her knees, moss and rotting leaves under her hands. She can just see the outline of her fingers, splayed on the ground, but barely, and soon enough she’s squeezing her eyes shut again as if it could help her escape the burn.

It’s like a fever and a sunburn and standing too close to a hearth all at once, sharp, prickling heat with no sweat to cool her and no cover to protect, and soon she’s shuddering, even the veined red shadow of her eyelids starting to spot and swim.

She faints.

– – – – –

Dara can’t say what leads him away from the ritual, why when the priestess stops their singing he turns and stumbles into the woods, but he knows it’s important. It’s like there’s a hook in his gut, and the line attached has started to pull, and then, when he’s far enough he can only barely hear the priestess speaking, it yanks.

Of all the things he expects to find in the woods, Ciri is not one of them.

At first, he’s angry – it had been clearly implied, he thought, that she was not to follow them, that she was not welcome. That this was theirs. That he and his people have already given her so much, she ought to let them have at least something to themselves.

But then he actually sees her – how she’s collapsed into the undergrowth, fingers pressed into furrows they must have dug there, cheeks scarlet while the rest of her skin is near translucently pale, and his anger is immediately dashed away by fear, bloodcurdling and cold.

“Ciri,” he calls, but she doesn’t so much as twitch. Her chest is barely moving. His heart skips. “Ciri.”

Still nothing, and when he goes to his knees beside her prone form, he can feel the heat pouring off of her, hotter even than the fire the priestess had been feeding. Touching her almost hurts, but he has no choice; she’s as limp as a corpse as he gets his arms around her shoulders and under her legs and lifts.

It’s not the first time he’s carried her, but it is the first he’s realized just how small she really is. His heart skips painfully again, and he turns back toward the faint light of where his fellows are finishing up the ceremony.

They’ve broken apart and are gathering things, when he stumbles back into their midst, and he feels how the air seems to freeze along with them.

“I found her,” he says, and doesn’t bother trying to explain how or why, “something’s wrong.”

“She’s just dh’oine,” someone scoffs, and Dara’s panicked enough he can’t even pin their voice, “she’s probably fallen ill. Take her back to camp.”

“This isn’t sickness,” he insists. “I’ve seen her and other humans sick – this is different.”

He pushes through their loose gathering to reach the priestess. Farryn, is her name, and he already knows that she’s the sole reason he and Ciri had been allowed to stay with the camp; he’d have been allowed, possibly, but without her say, Ciri would have been shunned. He doesn’t know what reasons she had for convincing the others to let Ciri stay, but he hopes that whatever they were, she’ll help her now, too.

Farryn’s eyes sharpen when he’s near enough that she can see Ciri properly. “Where?” she asks, and then steps back, gesturing to the stone dais they had used for their offerings. It’s still wet with wine, but he doesn’t hesitate to place her on it, cradling her head against the rough surface.

“Between here and the camp,” he answers, finally, tearing his eyes away from Ciri’s deathly pale face to look at Farryn. “I just – I left, something called me, and I found her lying there. Is this a fever?”

Farryn steps closer and passes her hand over Ciri’s face, then down her throat and to her sternum. She’s frowning in concentration, and Dara holds his breath as if he might shatter her focus. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the others forming a bubble around the dais, slowly inching forward to stare.

“It is,” Farryn says, softly. “But not one I’ve ever seen myself.”

“Can we help her?” Already, Dara is wondering how close Nilfgaard is, or if maybe they’ve moved on from the area by now – he knows there are healers in nearby towns, and if he has to carry Ciri to each one individually, so be it.

As far as anyone gathered here is concerned, he and Ciri are the same age; his years count barely thirty, and while hers are less than half that, his kind live for so much longer. When they met, he hadn’t stopped to consider that she may consider it differently, and now that he thinks about it, he’s not even certain she knows. If he covers his ears, he looks very much like a human teenager.

But he’s not that, and as he cradles Ciri’s head and feels the heat rolling off of her, heart rabbiting, he feels…responsible. Whatever has happened to her, whatever this fever is – the others have no obligation to help her, but he does. He brought her here, and as much as he’s always considered himself at her same level, he’s lived many more years, and more of them in the shadows and mud; between them, he’s the one with any kind of experience.

Farryn hasn’t answered his question, though.

“Can we help her?” he asks again, and Farryn looks up at him. Her expression is sad, and her eyes are a little haunted.

“We can,” she says. “If there is anyone willing.”

Dara frowns. “Me,” he says, because he’d thought that would be obvious. “Of course, me.”

Farryn’s frown deepens. “We’ll see,” she says, softly, and then she’s turning away and barking orders at the others. They all startle and scramble, some heading back to camp, some deeper into the woods, and others begin unpacking the things they’d begun packing up.

Dara can barely make himself listen or watch, he’s so focused on Ciri. Her breathing is still quick and shallow, her chest barely rising, and it feels like the fever is worsening, though he’s not certain if it actually is or it’s just the contrast of the cold stone against them.

Farryn returns to them after a moment, carrying a curved blade. “Het ichaer,” she’s muttering, “I never should have done it with her here.”

“What?” Dara asks. “What about blood?”

Farryn barely glances at him as she sets a bowl next to Ciri’s limp arm. “Hers,” she answers, as if that explains anything at all. He watches with his heart in his throat as she picks up Ciri’s hand and uses the blade to draw blood from a fingertip.

“Her blood?” he asks, once he snaps his attention from watching the bright red drip into the bowl. “Never should have done this? Farryn, what’s going on?”

“She’s – different,” Farryn murmurs, and turns to grab something that one of the others has brought from the woods. It goes into the bowl with Ciri’s blood. “I’m not certain what it is. Or, well, I have a hunch, but it’s so far-fetched I won’t say it to you.”

“Would you speak plainly, please?”

Farryn finishes doing – something, Dara doesn’t know what, with the mixture she’s got in the bowl, and then she looks up at him. “The ritual,” she says. “The blessing. It was just meant to be a call for fertility, to help us when we struggle so much to conceive.”

“I know that.”

Farryn shakes her head. “You think you do,” she mutters, but before he can ask about that, she’s continuing. “She’s…something else, though, and I think it’s had the same kind of reaction a curse might.”

“Something else? A curse – what kind of curse?!” Dara tries not to panic audibly, but all the same his voice raises and cracks, just slightly, on the inflection.

“She’s human,” Farryn says, “at least mostly. It’s her blood that’s different, her lineage. As far as the curse, well – you’ve heard of the foilé minne geas haven’t you?”

Dara blinks, and if he weren’t so highly strung and shocked all at once he’s certain he’d be flushing with embarrassment. “It’s – a…sex curse.”

“Except that a curse implies intention, and there was no intent behind this, yes.”

“...except there was!” He doesn’t really mean to shout, but he can’t help it. “Tonight, the ceremony, the offerings – the intent was fertility, conception. So you – ”

“Do you think I would have actually done it if I knew she would end up like this?” Farryn asks, cold, and Dara’s teeth click painfully as his mouth snaps shut. “I thought it might have an effect on her, too, like it hopefully will the rest of us. I thought it might even be a little stronger. But if I had thought, even for a moment, that she would end up dying from foilé minne, I wouldn’t have done it. Not without sending the two of you away first. Humans have nothing but my contempt, but she’s barely more than a child, Dara.”

Dara swallows the lump in his throat and nods. Ferryn nods back, a sharp, decisive thing.

“Now, are you still willing?”

He gapes for a moment. “Willing?” he asks, and then he catches up. Can we help her? We can, if there is anyone willing.

Sweet fucking Melitele.

“Yes,” he answers, as steady as he can get it, because what else can he say?

This was never Farryn’s fault. It’s because of him that Ciri is here.

“Good. Now, sit her up. She’ll only be lucid for a few minutes – you’re going to have to explain quickly.”

“Why not – ”

As if reading his mind, Farryn cuts him off with a, “Because if the both of you make it out of this, it’s not me who is going to have a half-elf bastard out of it.”

Sweet fucking Melitele.

– – – – –

The first thing Ciri registers is that something thick and gritty is sliding down her throat, and that her mouth is filled with the taste of blood and crushed herbs. She chokes, coughing, but there’s a hand on her mouth as soon as she does.

“Swallow, girl, you need it,” a voice says, and she pries her eyes open to find her vision swimming. Slowly, it stills out into still-blurry focus, though, and she recognizes –

“Farryn?” The name is muffled beneath the priestess’ hand, but when it doesn’t move, she swallows pointedly. The elf squints at her for a moment, then removes her hand. “Wha’s….”

She’s suddenly shifting, and she lets out a yelp.

“Sorry,” Dara says, suddenly in front of her. It’s him holding her up, she realizes, though she can’t really parse how. She just recognizes the feeling of his hands on her. He looks…scared.

“Dara?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly.

Ciri frowns, because what could he be sorry for? She…doesn’t know where she is, or what’s happening, but she remembers following the sound of singing and then heat, and…. Dara wasn’t there. Not with her, at least. She…must have fainted. Yes, she fainted, she sort of remembers her vision swimming, but….

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Dara repeats, but she doesn’t think it’s because he thinks she didn’t hear. “Look, I don’t – there’s not a gentle way to tell you this. The ritual we were holding, the ceremony – it was a fertility blessing, and it…. Something happened to you. Is happening.”

Ciri frowns harder. “What?” she repeats. Her skin is starting to crawl with heat again, but at least this time there’s sweat, too, though the adding tingling in…uh. That’s…unexpected and a little uncomfortable.

“It’s a sex curse,” he finally says, sounding a little pained. “At least, more or less. You – we. We have to have sex.”

“...what.”

Dara’s laugh is even more pained. “You’re dying,” he says. “The ritual, it – something reacted, in you, your blood.”

Suddenly, violently, Ciri is thrown back to an open field and mangled bodies – the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown.

A seed which will not sprout but burst into flame.

“Dying?” Ciri whispers, vision swimming again.

“I won’t let you,” Dara says, sharp and firm. “I won’t, Ciri, I just – I have to, we have to – to save you.”

He’s asking, she realizes, in a sort of distant way as heat and tingling continue to crawl up her spine, through her body, til her head is spinning again. He’s asking, and she thinks if she says no, he’ll…let her.

Let her die.

Her breathing is labored, and she finds the only thing she can really focus on is Dara’s hands; they’re cold against her overheated skin, and his palms are smooth but his fingertips are callused. Like a string player. For a split second she’s distracted, wondering if he plays an instrument, but his voice calls her back.

“Ciri, please.”

She trusts him. Despite all of their bickering, the horrible things he said about her and her grandmother, she trusts him, because – because he’s earned it. He came back, after the doppler, and saved her where she was helpless and tied up. He helped her kill that monster masquerading as Mousesack. He helped her chip into the frozen ground deep enough to bury the corpse, even as he spewed vitriol the whole time.

He said he wouldn’t leave even if the elf camp turned her out. That he’d stay with her, like he did when she left Brokilon.

“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”

“Thank you.” And then he’s – kissing her.

It feels – incredible. And it’s not just pleasure, the illicit thrill of it, though it’s that, too, it’s…she’s so hot, skin crawling with the fever, and his hands on her back and her face and his mouth on hers is like being dunked in cold water. Like the time in Skellige that she jumped into the sea along with the rest of the clan, sharp-stinging cold that jolted her into a new kind of awareness.

There’s no jolt into awareness, here, but she feels like she might be swimming toward it, finally.

She’s clumsy, as she tries to kiss Dara back, but he doesn’t seem concerned. She vaguely notes that he seems – confident. Smooth, like he knows what he’s doing, and for the first time she wonders how old is he really? but then Dara drags his mouth from hers and to her ear and she’s distracted from considering it.

“I think – I think I can feel it, too,” he murmurs. “It’s – not the same, not what happened to you, but….”

If he has anything more to say, he doesn’t continue with it; instead, he drags his mouth down her throat. She gasps at the zing of pleasure that strikes her core, and he seems to notice, kissing back up the stretch of her neck and then back down, letting his teeth scrape across the sensitive skin.

Now she’s whining. It’s an embarrassing sound, but she can’t stop; she barely has any control of herself, really only enough to cling to the stone she’s sitting on and Dara’s thigh. She can’t seem to figure out what they’re sitting on, or how he’s positioned in relation to her, but he distracts her once again by dropping kisses further down, along her collarbone and even further.

She remembers, suddenly, that she’s only in her nightclothes. She wonders, distantly and vaguely, why that hadn’t occurred to her when she left the camp, that she was hardly dressed, but it doesn’t matter now.

Mostly, it’s lucky, because it means Dara only has to shift a little and tug at the large, scooped neck to bare her breasts, and his mouth is following along quickly.

The pleasure of all of it has been shocking, really – his mouth and his hands and how well her body responds to him, how slick she is between her thighs – but this is something else entirely. The noise she makes is broken, caught in her throat as she tries to writhe, nails scraping rough and painful against the stone.

Dara shifts again, and this time when her nightgown moves it’s because he’s pulling it up, uncovering her thighs and belly and then her breasts again. She struggles to help, letting go of his leg when he tugs at the sleeve on that arm, and then lifting the hand she has braced on the stone to let him pull the whole thing off, finally. Her hair is in her face, but that hardly matters when he kisses her again, still moving but in a way she still can’t seem to figure out.

Until, of course, she’s suddenly being lifted. She yells, heart jumping to her throat, but Dara’s grip is sure and he’s murmuring soothingly as they move. Her vision is still too blurry to make anything out, never mind the fact that it’s dark and she doesn’t know where she is, but she thinks he turns them. She can tell he only takes about a dozen steps before he’s lowering her again.

It’s…a fur, she realizes. A smaller one, as her legs rest on moss and undergrowth, but a fur all the same, soft even where it sticks to her tacky skin. As soon as she’s laid out on it, Dara is laying over her, his hips pressed between her thighs and his elbows on either side of her face.

She…expects to feel his cock, expects him to tip her hips up and just – get on with it, really, but that doesn’t happen. His cock does press against her hip, blood-hot and hard and…a little oddly shaped for what she expects, actually, but she can’t really focus on that when he’s kissing down her throat and murmuring.

“So beautiful,” he breathes, “wish it wasn’t like this, that I could do it right.”

“Right?” she asks, feeling marginally clearer with so much of his skin pressed to hers. He responds to the way she rolls her body up against him by dropping a little more of his weight onto her, pressing her further into the fur and the soft ground beneath.

He chuckles against her throat, but it’s strained. “I – you’re a princess, Ciri,” he says, and she…kind of gets what he’s saying, there, but also….

“Not anymore,” she reminds him, pretending it doesn’t make her chest go tight, and he shakes his head, though he doesn’t actually disagree.

“Even so,” is all he says, and then, after a momentary detour to mouth at her shoulder, “This is – something like this is…a gift, at the least. Sacred, at best. Having to do it like this…you deserve better.”

And she’s still hazy, still sort of trailing behind him, but that – it hits her and she snorts.

Dara leans up to give her an incredulous look.

“It’s a chore,” she counters, echoes of a dozen maids in her childhood echoing in her head. “Not – not always, but….”

He just sort of blinks at her, and then shakes his head. “Not for us,” he says, finally, and then he’s ducking back down to kiss her again, and this one feels…different. Softer, hotter. She whines into his mouth, and he sucks gently at her swelling bottom lip before he pulls back and puts his mouth back on her chest. She almost doesn’t catch how he murmurs, “Not to me.”

Something about that is….

Too much, she decides, unsure what to do with the myriad of emotions swirling in her gut and her chest, on top of the way her body is screaming a new, unfamiliar need at her.

“Please,” she murmurs, entirely unsure what she’s even asking for. She knows the fundamentals of bodies and the basic mechanics of sex – her grandmother was protective, but not shy – but that’s all, really. It seems clear to her that Dara at least knows those and a bit more, so she ignores the way her stomach is twisting with uncertainty and gods know what else and just…trusts him.

He nuzzles against her breast and hums, the same sort of soothing as when he lifted her, and then he’s shifting his weight to balance on one arm instead of two. It pulls his weight off of her, mostly, and she whines, but he just kisses at her sternum and hums again. His freed hand trails down, over her shoulder and across one breast, pausing for just a moment to circle a fingertip around her nipple as she shudders helplessly, and then over her ribs and to her hip. Once there, he circles the touch in with gentle strokes, until he’s resting his palm over her mound, fingers held lightly against her folds.

Just as helplessly as the shudder, her hips buck, and that movement seems to be what he was waiting for. His mouth finds her nipple, and then his fingers are spreading her gently before just sort of stroking over the slick flesh there.

The sound she makes is close to a wail, loud and sudden and then choked, when he just sucks at her nipple and that stroking touch turns into his fingertips gently circling her entrance. Her hips buck again, and his fingers move back up, until that gentle circling is at her clit.

Her skin feels electrified, and the heat is worsening but it’s good, now, it feels right. Dara’s mouth moves to her other breast, and he presses his fingers just a little harder against her, sending a shock of pleasure through her so intense that she jerks, the leg she has bent around Dara’s tensing and forcing him a little closer.

With the way he shifted to touch her, his cock is pressed between his belly and her thigh, and he grunts when her leg forces him tighter to her, his own hips rolling and grinding his erection against her. This time, she can sort of pin what seemed odd about it – it’s more tapered at the top than she’d expected, and she can’t really tell if it’s just that feeling is different than seeing, or if his cock is actually oddly tapered.

…or maybe that elves have slightly different anatomy than humans, because now that she’s thinking about it, she’s fairly certain none of the scholarly writings and sketches she’d seen ever talked about elves at all.

The movement of his hips doesn’t stop, either, and she can tell there’s – texture, almost, though that’s…not quite right. His skin feels just like any human’s, but it’s underneath the smoothness of skin. Soon enough, though, he’s shifting his fingers and thoroughly distracting her by holding her spread open with two while a third strokes directly over her swollen clit.

She loses her breath, and then her vision goes, too, everything spinning and black-white-starry. She’s trembling, but Dara isn’t stopping, isn’t moving away; instead, he’s just firming the touch against her clit, moving faster, starting to bite messily at her breasts in between panted encouragements.

“Like this, just one, I promise I’ll give you what you need, but this first – ” he rasps, still grinding his cock against her thigh, the movement growing slicker with sweat or maybe precum, she doesn’t know which. He keeps murmuring, some of it choked, but she loses track quickly, the trembling turning into quivering into shaking, until the jittery tension finally snaps and she’s coming.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the small part of it that isn’t drowning in heat and pleasure and somehow worsened need, she realizes oh, so this really is why people do this so much.

There’s knowing, objectively, that orgasms are enjoyable and that people like them, and then there’s feeling it – the spiraling heat and seeping tension, how her heart hammers and then settles alongside a sudden lassitude in her limbs. She lets out a sigh she’s almost embarrassed of, it’s so – wanton.

“Gorgeous,” Dara is whispering, forehead pressed to her collar as he rocks his hips against her. “Gods above, look at you, want to do this again, later, when I can take my time and give you everything – “

Her stomach twists again, much more pleasantly this time, but already the heat is coming back with a vengeance to steal the afterglow, her hips cramping as they jerk up against his stilled hand.

“Please,” she breathes, and her voice is startlingly raspy – she wonders if she was screaming, and pretends that the heat flooding her face is just more of the effect the ceremony had on her and not a blush. “I think it’s – I need….”

She knows what she needs, now; she needs him to fuck her, properly, but the words stick in her throat. She swallows against them, opens her mouth to try again, but still nothing comes out.

Dara says something she doesn’t catch, Elder Speech, she thinks, but his hand is moving then. “Okay,” he says. “Just, first – ”

His fingertips circle her entrance again, but this time instead of just being an electrifying tease, one of them is sinking slowly inside her. She makes another incredibly wanton noise, but can’t even bring herself to care about it, angling her hips up as if she could force that single digit any deeper.

“Please,” she gasps again.

“I know,” he murmurs back, kissing from her sternum to her mouth. “I know, I have you, just – let me, just for a second.”

She makes a vaguely assenting noise against his mouth, clenching down on the finger he’s rocking in and out of her. He grunts, and then there’s a second finger singing into her, and it’s – a stretch, one she can feel, like when she reaches above her head too far, but there’s no pain. She moans.

“Fuck.” Dara sounds almost pained, but he kisses her again before she can try to ask, and his fingers are moving faster now, pulling almost all the way out before he sinks them back in, and it’s – good, it’s so fucking good, better than she ever though possible, but it’s not enough.

“Dara,” she pleads, voice pitchy, “Dara, please.”

He curses again, in Elder this time. His fingers slip out of her with an obscenely wet noise, and she whines in loss even as she realizes he’s moving to give her what she needs. It takes more effort than it rightly should, but she manages to lever herself somewhat up on her elbows as he settles on his knees between her thighs, wanting to actually see him now, at least as much as she can in the blurry dark as clouds pass over the moon.

She loses the thread of her thoughts, though, when she does look. He’s – handsome, even pretty, she knows that. She’s known that since the first time she saw him anything resembling cleaned up, the first time they had to bathe together in a freezing river after the Cintran refugee camp had been attacked. But she realizes now that it had been purely objective, then, seeing his chest and the cut of his hips and his fine bone structure and knowing that he was conventionally attractive.

What she’s experiencing now, watching him breathing hard where he’s poised between her legs, his cock in his hand, is anything but objective. Especially once her eyes land on his cock.

With everything so shadowed, only the occasional beam of moonlight to highlight edges and base colors, it’s hard to really see, but she can get an idea – and she was right, earlier, with the assumption that maybe elves’ anatomy is different than humans.

It’s not unrecognizably different, the same basic shaft and head shape, but his cock is much thinner at the top than the sketches she’s seen of human men, and the whole shape is more tapered. Also, along the sides and bottom, thrown into more relief as he strokes himself and his fingers shift, are some sort of – ridges. The texture she’d felt, earlier.

She swallows, and even if she feels a little unsure, the longer they sit in this sort of tableau the harder it gets to breathe and think so – she shoves it aside.

“Dara,” she says, again, less of a plea but still very much a request.

His eyes drift up from where he’d been staring between them, and at least he looks as off-kilter as she feels.

“Yeah,” he says, as if his name had been a proper question, and then he’s shuffling closer and leaning over her again, their hips still separated but only just. Ciri gasps at the feeling of his cock twitching against her belly and lets him steal the breath right out of her with a kiss, the most desperate of them so far.

“Please.”

– – – – –

He really doesn’t know what to do with how hearing Ciri plead makes him feel, so he shoves it pointedly aside and instead focuses on the here and now, the fact that no matter what trepidation he feels he cannot back out and risk her life.

Especially since he’d really rather like to give this a shot when it’s not life-or-death, if she’ll have him.

It’s easy, really, to slot their hips together, feeling the heat radiating from her cunt. She pants into his mouth when he kisses her again, and then whimpers when he shifts and drags the head of his cock over her folds. She’s so slick he has to keep a grip on himself to control the movement, and his heart hammers in his chest, wondering how much of that is the ritual, the effect on her, and how much of it is just her natural response.

“Please,” she whispers again, lips still against his, and he kisses her again, shuddering at the sensation as he rubs his cock over her hole.

“I have you,” he murmurs back, when he has to pull back to breathe.

She just whines and hooks her legs around his waist properly, knees at his sides and feet crossed against his lower back. The movement rocks him forward, pushes just the tip of his cock inside her cunt, and they both freeze for the space of one rapid heartbeat.

“Dara,” she moans, outright moans, like the neediest whore, and any real control he was trying to exert is gone.

“Ciri,” he murmurs back, biting at her jaw as he sinks inside her with one smooth thrust. The searing heat and pleasure must scramble his brain, too, because the next thing he whispers is, “En'ca minne, yeá elaine.”

He has no idea if she even knows enough Hen Llinge to understand that, and he also doesn’t know if yes or no is the worse answer, so he bites his tongue and focuses on moving. Slowly, at first, at least as slowly as he can manage with his instincts beating at his chest to just take, to move faster and rougher.

Needing to do something with that urge, he leans his weight to one side and drags his opposite hand between them, plucking at her nipples for a moment before he moves down, until he can get his fingers on her clit. She jolts and clenches so tight around him he’s afraid for a split second that he’s going to flare at just that, but the moment passes and he’s able to concentrate on moving his fingers and his hips in tandem.

Beneath him, Ciri falls apart beautifully, seeming to melt everywhere except where she’s gripping onto him, hips tilting so he can shove just a little deeper. He hisses and bites at her throat, knows he’s leaving livid purple marks on the fair skin, and resists the urge to bite harder.

Encouraged by the way she’s rocking her hips in tandem with his rhythm, how she’s gasping his name and please and arching into him, he moves faster. When she just whimpers and asks for more, he finally lets go, stops worrying so much about the pace and instead fixates on making her come on his cock.

She’s so responsive it’s almost easy, and each new pleasure seems to overwhelm her in the best way, so he sets to it; rubbing consistent, tight circles on her clit, tilting his hips so his cock grinds against the sensitive front wall of her cunt, and when he can get his back bent the right way, sucking at her nipples until she wails. It only takes a few minutes of that dedicated attention for her to shatter, her wails turning into breathless screeching as she clenches down so hard he’s forced to stop thrusting.

Instead, he just grinds against her, struggling to breathe as his knot starts to swell – not to the point of a flare, not yet, but so close, and he doesn’t want it to happen yet, wants to make her come again first, really let her wring all of the pleasure out of this possible.

It takes several minutes of deep breathing as she comes down to get a grip on himself, but he manages, and soon she’s rolling her hips against his in a wordless demand. It makes him laugh, as strained as it is, but he moves.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he murmurs, and Ciri makes a noise in response, but he couldn’t say what it means. He doesn’t worry about it, instead just rolling his hips a little faster again, until he’s fucking her properly once more.

He knows that even if he wants to he won’t be able to control himself this time; he’s going to come right with her. He shifts carefully, until their hips are more properly aligned and he can get his arm under her shoulders; she helps, unintentionally or not, by throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling herself up to cling.

“One more like this,” he murmurs, lips pressed to her ear since she’s buried her face in his throat. He can feel more than hear the way she’s still whining, clearly overstimulated but still needing. “One more for me, en'ca minne, just like this.”

“Dara,” she mewls, and just like that she’s coming again, barely anything more needed than the steady roll of his hips and a little gentle pressure against her clit. He bites down on her shoulder to keep in a vicious noise, sliding his hand up her belly and then to the side, til he can curl his fingers around the space between her waist and her hip and steady her frantic movement as she trembles through it.

“Fuck, Ciri,” he practically growls it against her throat as his knot finally flares, and he grinds as deep into her cunt as he can get, entire body jolting and head starting to spin when he feels how she squeezes around the intrusion.

Human women don’t lock properly, not like elves, but it’s as if their bodies know to try anyhow. All the same, bodily instinct or not, the sensation is clearly enough of a shock that Ciri’s mind objects.

Luckily, the grip he has on her is enough to keep her from jerking away and hurting either of them.

“Shh,” he soothes, “it’s okay, minne, it’s alright, shhh.”

“What is – fuck,” Ciri whines, voice cracking, and seemingly without her input her hips are rolling against his, cunt clenching even tighter around his knot. The sensation of her squeezing like that, and the way she’s trembling as she grinds his cock deeper inside herself, has him shivering and whining himself, fingertips pressing little point bruises into her soft skin.

“Knot,” he says, shorter and sharper than intended as she squeezes again. “Just – don’t try to pull away.”

“I – fuck, yeah, okay,” she mutters, clearly distracted. He can sympathize.

It takes a bit of effort, but he’s able to sort of scoot his knee higher on the little fur Farryn had laid out for them and then twist, lifting Ciri off of it so he can continue to turn and drop back on it. Unfortunately, the movement means that his knot just presses deeper, almost to the point that he knows he would be locked because of the shape of her pelvis.

She gasps and then mewls, and with a mind-bending little movement of her hips, comes on his knot.

He loses his breath, hips jerking as if he could ever get any deeper than this, with all of her weight pulling her to the very base of his cock. She just makes a cut off little noise, almost a sob, and sort of collapses down onto his chest, still shaking through the aftershocks.

It takes a long moment for him to regain any of his thoughts, but when he does, he notices that she’s cooled off considerably – in fact, she’s shivering now, the sweat they’re both covered in probably chilling her something fierce. He tugs her down, grunting at the shift, and wraps his arms around her. He can’t do much else, pseudo-locked and out in the woods. He’s sure Farryn probably left more than just a single fur for them before she started herding the others back to camp, but he would have to look for that, and that just circles right back to the fact that Ciri is still caught on his knot.

At least the fever is gone, and as her breathing settles, he can practically feel her overactive thinking returning.

“Shh,” he hushes, preemptively, but she isn’t deterred.

“Dara,” she says, softly, and her voice is serious enough that he surrenders and lets her sit up a little. He hisses at the movement, cock twitching inside her, but they both ignore that.

“Mm?”

“...you said fertility ritual. Before.”

“Mm.”

“Dara, I – I have a cycle. I can – this is….”

His stomach drops out. Because if the both of you make it out of this, it’s not me who is going to have a half-elf bastard out of it.

He had known, of course, that it was the risk he was taking in saving Ciri’s life. But she hadn’t, not really.

“Elvish fertility isn’t great,” he offers, and it must sound as weak as it feels, because Ciri whacks his chest.

“With other elves,” she says, and she’s unfortunately right. Human-elf pairings are so much more likely to create offspring, and everyone knows it.

“It’s still possible you won’t take,” he says, and catches her hand before she can hit him again. He can’t resist the urge to kiss her fingertips, though, and he watches as her frown softens.

“But if I do?”

He swallows. “If you don’t want to carry my child,” he says, carefully, refusing to acknowledge the emotional reaction to that that rises in his chest, “then we’ll go to the temple, or one of the healers in the cities. As long as we go early, they can get rid of it.”

Her eyes go wide, at that.

“You would – ” she starts, and then cuts off, looking away. “I know half-elves are frowned upon, but – ”

“Children are…revered,” he interrupts. “And mothers the same. I told you, this, this act itself – it’s a gift, a sacred one, and….”

“...and?”

“And I wouldn’t make you carry a child you didn’t want.”

No matter how desperately I want it, how much my people need children and hope.

She pulls her hand from his, just to turn it and cup his face. Her palm is small and smooth, her skin the kind of soft that tells of her origin. Her thumb strokes over his cheek while she looks at him. After a moment, he can’t take the intensity of the stare, and she doesn’t say anything when he closes his eyes and turns his face into her hand.

Finally, though, she moves, and first he feels her lips at his temple, and then on the bridge of his nose, before her mouth finds his. The kiss is chaste and soft and sweet and his chest aches over it.

“Look at me,” she whispers, against his lips, and he goes cross eyed at first when he obeys, but she just leans a little back and smiles.

“What?” he asks, after another moment of silence where she just smiles softly at him.

“No temple or healers,” she murmurs. “...at least, not for several months.”

Her meaning takes a long moment to sink in, and then he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum.

“You – Cirilla.”

“That’s my name, yes.”

He laughs, then, even as tears gather in his eyes. “Ciri,” he breathes, and tugs her back down into another sweet kiss. “Really? Even if it means that a half-elf has a right to the throne of Xin’trea?”

Her smile widens into a grin. “Better than Nilfgaard, isn't it?”

The tears are spilling over, then, as well as the laughter again, and she shakes a little as she starts to giggle, and he can’t possibly do anything except roll them back over, her back in the undergrowth, and kiss her until the sun comes up.

#celus writes #dead dove #dead dove: do not eat #ciriweek #celus wrecking ciri #celus age difference CW #celus sex pollen CW #celus overstimulation CW #celus pregnancy kink CW #celus breeding kink CW

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rinisbowen · 2 years

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I’m curious because Matt is sharing a lot of key situations about his character this season and getting a lot of solo interviews. I’m super curious about EJ's final arc this season. Frankie, Dara and Julia have had a lot of interviews as well as Saylor and Adrian with Tim… Sofia and Josh seem very hidden when they are being named as the leads of the season based on just 3 episodes, mostly for Gina. One of the reviews even mentioned the most notable characters the first episode are Ricky and Gina (not as the ship but as separate characters) so I wonder if they really have nothing to hint without giving away spoilers and it’s marking me thing perhaps their interviews will come out after 301 premieres.

hi anon, thanks for the ask. i'll quickly note that this ask was received at the very least several days if not like a week ago, so- stuff has obviously changed since its being sent and received, for others seeing this.

i think holding off on the like- interview interviews for someone like josh especially (since so far we've only seen him doing the tv appearances and not talking at all really about his character's journey), could be about a few things. one of these i hate to bring up, but it's having more control over the environment when he's being interviewed. if he's going on a talk show, chances are his team can be more involved and actually screen the questions and such because as i've read on twitter (and i'm sure we can all assume from well- season 2 press), disney doesn't exactly set down limits on the questions and things for those zoom interviews the cast does the same way...

that said to address the talk show thing in a different sense (though it's not in your ask, given the ask came in before we knew of the talk shows), having joshua bassett going on a talk show to talk about the show is... good promo. it's complicated- given everything... but he does have a decently bigger name for the show and such, so him being the person to do it makes a whole lot of sense. plus, he's the consistent lead of the show now that olivia's being shifted down and sofia shifted up. so- it's an easy choice.

another consideration- scheduling. i know i saw at least one person mention sofia was too busy to interview with them on whatever day so it would be matt by himself instead of the both of them together. same can apply for josh- we know he has like- a bunch of stuff going on in the background so... would not be surprised if part of why he's doing more of the talk shows instead of zoom press is scheduling.

also- as you mention... spoilers. ricky's the main character this season, first billed, rather than sort of sharing that with nini, ricky being second billed and her first (now it's him first, gina second), so- his arc is obviously going to be kinda important. they might prefer to save his zoom interviews for once there's more content out so they can get more details from him to publish. get something juicier. it's not that they have nothing to hint now, but that maybe they feel like it's better to wait until they can have more. this one's the same for sofia/gina, but i wanted to talk about josh first since... she's done a LOT more zoom press than he has.

in terms of sofia, i mentioned this a bit up there... but she's been busy it sounds like, so that's probably a part of it. she also has an exciting netflix movie coming soon ish, and i don't think disney necessarily really wants them asking her about her netflix movie given disney+ is... very much in competition with netflix.

and then there's of course just- given she's the main girl this season, it makes sense they want to wait on the interview until the interview can have at least some spoilers in it. it's juicier when they can talk about stuff! like- she has done a good number of zoom interviews i feel like, especially with dara which is lovely (we love our anna and elsa), but we'll probably see a lot more of her when she's allowed to give stuff away! she also did that article interview which is cool- good for her truly.

matt doing a LOT of zoom press rn is also a strategic choice for disney+. he's the third lead this season, which is where he was in the prior two seasons as well, but y'know, things are a changing for him in the sense that he just got done doing press for another very prominent disney+ project- zombies 3. and he shares that project with disney's like- lowkey it girl rn, meg donnelly. plus meg's also in season 3. so he's like- kinda a big deal for disney right now... they want to take full advantage of the zombies and hsmtmts overlap of sorts. matt cornett is bigger now on disney's list for having done zombies 3, and even more so with how close their releases are it's probably a great moment for them they want to take advantage of.

lowkey i am admittedly a touch curious to see how much of what he says comes true though. a lot of it probably is true, but that doesn't mean every single thing he says is necessarily... the cool thing about ej's arc this season revolving around his future and such is that well- it makes a ton of sense for that to be his arc. it's to a certain degree not even a spoiler necessarily. and same with the relationship with gina and what that means being a major aspect of his plot- we could've all expected that given where we ended season 2. so it's not a spoiler. hence him and sofia both saying they "start the season" that way. they won't say they definitely end the season together because THAT would be a spoiler. and if they said it- i would sincerely consider not taking them at their word.

also i believe i know what you're talking about with the notable thing... and i believe he said their performances were the most notable (like in the sense they were great performances given by the actors)... not necessarily their characters' stories, but at the same time... it's a fact they're the main characters, josh is first billed and sofia second, matt third, julia fourth, etc. so yeah- they ARE the leads of this season. we know that going in.

#hsmtmts #answered #anonymous #hsmtmts: press talk

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casspurrjoybell-19 · 19 days

Text

Does it Matter? - Chapter 23 - Part 3

*Warning: Adult Content*

"It seems like a smarter strategy would be to treat you kindly. It would likely work if you were genuinely invested in his well being and success, wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps, sir."

Bug fidgeted his fingers together. He'd gone back to staring down at his lap.

"I think he just resents me. He paid a great deal of money for me under the assumption that my ability had far fewer limitations. That I could tell him everything that was going to happen in advance."

"That sounds like a lapse in judgement on his part to me. If you could really do that, nobody would sell you for any price. Why would they need to when they could just cheat at gambling to make money and know that they would get away with it? When you could tell them exactly where to invest their money for maximum profit? He should have realised it was too good to be true."

"Hmm," Bug said.

"Perhaps, Sir."

"I'll give you an example," Brayan said.

"Almost a year ago now, I came across a family of peasants selling junk at a stall. I wasn't really interested in their junk but I was waiting for someone so I looked it over. They offered me a carved wooden pendant strung on a cord that they claimed was magic. They said it would bring the wearer great fortune but they weren't Eth so claims of magic were dubious from the get go and why would peasants sell a magic necklace that makes you rich for less than what it would cost to feed to their family for a week instead of keeping it for themselves?"

"I think I understand what you're saying, sir. The better a deal sounds, the more skeptical you should be of it."

"Exactly."

Brayan got off the bed and went over to his bag.

"I think I still have the pendant somewhere, actually. Hold on."

"But I thought..."

Brayan pulled the pendant out of a pocket in his bag and held it up by its cord.

It was two interlocking polished wooden rings.

"The part where I mentally calculated how long they could feed their children with the money they were trying to swindle from me made me realise I should probably buy it anyway."

Brayan returned to the bed and sat down next to Bug.

"It's not worth nearly what they asked for it but it's nice enough, I suppose. Though I'd never wear something around my neck so now it's just a thing that I own that serves no purpose other than to make my pack ever so slightly heavier."

Bug was staring down at the pendant in Brayan's hand, his teeth worrying at his lip.

“What?”

Bug hesitated.

"If you don't want it, sir, maybe... could I have it, please?"

Brayan's brow drew down in confusion.

"You don't actually believe it's magical, do you? I can assure you, it's not."

Bug kept his eyes downcast.

"I know."

"It's not worth anything, either. I only paid what I did for it because I felt bad for them."

"I know, Sir."

"Okay," Brayan said.

He still didn't understand why Bug wanted it so much but he could work with this.

"I'll give it to you in exchange for information. Did Lord Nolen order Fraccus to kill Dara?"

"I really don't know, sir. Honestly. I saw Fraccus do it but I didn't see him be instructed to. I can see the future in my own complicated and confusing way but I can't see past events I wasn't witness to."

"Do you think it's more likely that he was following orders or that he acted on his own?"

Bug stared intently at the floor for a long moment.

Without his shirt on, he looked even more vulnerable when he hugged himself.

"It's not for me to say, Sir. I can't be sure."

"I'm not asking you to be sure, Bug. I'm asking for your opinion."

Bug took a deep breath in and let it out, slow and shaky.

"He was born into slavery, sir. It would be extremely out of character for him to act independently."

"More out of character than it would be for your master to order him to do such a thing?"

Bug pressed his lips together, he didn't answer.

There was a knock on the door.

"Who's at the door?" Brayan asked Bug.

Bug shut his eyes for a few seconds and went still and then lifted his head and opened his eyes.

"It's your friend from before, Sir. The man who brought the clothes. He has food."

"Ah, yes, the clothes," Brayan said as he stood.

"Why don't you give yourself a quick wipe down with the washcloth and put those clothes on while I speak to Garrod. You don't seem to be hurt in any way that is immediately concerning or that I can do anything about."

Bug had been correct.

Garrod was standing on the other side of the door, carrying a plate laden with food.

"How's he doing?"

"He's been extremely cooperative and I know many things that I didn't ten minutes ago but I'm not sure any of it fundamentally changes anything," Brayan told him.

"He has the ability to tell the future, which was how he knew Dara was in danger. He said Fraccus did throw Dara out of the window but I think we could have safely guessed that much. He doesn't know for a fact that Lord Nolen ordered Fraccus to do it but he suspects that was the case. I think we all already had that suspicion, though."

"He can see the future?" Garrod asked.

"That's quite something."

"Hmm. It's more limited than you might think but it's certainly interesting."

"I'll let you get back to it, then," Garrod said as he handed the plate of food to Brayan.

"I'll pass what you told me on to Maric."

"Thank you. I want the number of men on watch doubled up tonight. I'll leave you to organise that since I have this situation to deal with. We'll probably sleep early, so this will be goodnight for now unless I'm needed."

Garrod smiled.

"Goodnight, sir. Go and feed your situation."

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fancifulflora · 1 year

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What're Kulîlk's relationships like with the love interests and side characters?

God, there are a lot of characters so forgive me asdjkj. Also, the story is still WIP so I'm working on info from ch 10 and below and each of the LIs are written as if she is in their route)

Ashti/Azad:

Kulîlk's thankful for their tutelage in her sword skills, appreciating their dry humor since it's not something they can so readily get from their other servants or guards. Above all, she hopes to not disappoint them and wishes to prove that the small amount of trust she's received from them was well placed. For now, she silently observes them when she can, trying to learn more about her protector through the way they behave and interact with others. If When caught, however, she'll embarrassingly deflect the conversation, even if it's a little obvious that she's staring.

Dara/Delal:

She worries about the situation in Zerat, especially having recently learned of just how important it is for stability to return to the decimated regions of the country. Kulîlk also cares for her general dearly, making sure they're safe and alright in their reports to her and reassuring them of the progress she's making in her studies and training in her many letters to them. When she does hear of their return to Marabad and the condition they're in, a part of her wishes she was more upfront with her words, more willing to say things that were probably better off unsaid.

Xelef/Xelara:

Her Imperial Majesty really enjoys their presence around her. With ease, the Pale Sword makes her laugh and distracts her from her worries. There are also so few people that so easily cut through the mask that Kulîlk wears the way the mercenary can. She's no fool though, she knows that they've lied to her- used her in the past. She knows better than to assume their intentions to be genuine or their actions completely selfless. Yet, she still holds out hope that maybe the two of them have potential. That is until she hears about what has happened to the Mir's palace. Considering how her coronation went, to say that Crown Kulîlk is mad is an understatement.

Rozerîn/Rêzan:

They've naturally grown close to each other due to their positions, but Kulîlk truly views their sorcerer as a trusted friend on top of an advisor. They're both new to their positions, but unlike Kulîlk, their sorcerer has a talent for the work they do. It makes them a little envious, in all honesty. Kulîlk's mind sometimes wonders how easier things would be if she had been picked up and raised under the previous Crown- though she's quick to stomp out those thoughts as they come. Overall, she just wants to be a Crown that her sorcerer can be proud of serving and to grow a friendship where they can lean on each other for support. Though there are moments of affection between the two of them, it isn't really till she hears about the sleep their sorcerer is in that she realizes that maybe friendship isn't exactly what she's seeking. That, maybe, it isn't simply a passing crush on someone due to proximity and general kindness.

Tûjo and Heval:

She honestly feels a little bad for the two of them, knowing how the Pale Sword is, being their second and third in command certainly can't be an easy job. Kulîlk feels especially bad if she's currently romancing X. Though it's mostly because she's able to recognize the position the two of them have placed the Blades in, especially if most of them voted to march on from Marabad. She finds Tûjo to be especially endearing out of the two, the same way a moody cat might be and she's thankful for Heval's presence- the brief time they've spent together instilling advice she still follows as a Crown today. Overall, she wishes to be closer to them but is certainly in no rush to do so.

Şanazî:

Kulîlk is pretty impressed with the reports of Şanazî's archery skills but doesn't know her all that well. Regardless, anyone capable of knocking the Pale Sword down a peg or two has her thanks. (This applies to Tûjo and Heval as well)

Ishrah and Siham:

Spirits, Kulîlk adores them. Both of them. While she does wish Siham would be more comfortable around them, she's just happy to have a bond with those who serve her. Besides, Ishrah's presence alone is enough to alleviate her spirits when Kulîlk is down.

Ziryan:

She understands why they may be so nervous around her, being a bit of a rookie in their position, yet she has hopes that with time and experience, they might be more comfortable around her.

Ezo and Kaja:

Kulîlk loves them so much. She'll never tell them outwardly, figuring that her general wouldn't approve of her enabling their behavior but the two hold a firm place in her heart. Their lack of respect for authority in general is refreshing and their banter never fails to put a smile on her face.

Keko:

There's not much of a relationship between the head servant and Kulîlk, but she's eternally grateful for the flawless work they do in order to keep the palace running and operational. Whenever the opportunity arises, she's always certain to offer them a snack or some tea, hoping that it could provide some reprieve from their duties.

Lady Naza:

While she knows better than to trust any of the nobles, Lady Naza's general disregard for her wasn't taken as an insult or even a bad thing. Crown Kulîlk recognizes the value of having someone upfront with her and hopes that the two of them have a fruitful partnership in the future- that is if Lazy Naza is who she portrays herself to be.

Perjin:

There's not too much that Kulîlk knows about Perjin, but she does respect the magi. Any magi that doesn't wield their rank as a sword or looks down on others gets points in her book.

Kham:

Perhaps she's being foolish, but Kulîlk doesn't doubt Kham as much as those around her do. Peris are certainly not a monolith and while a lot of the evidence behind her assassination are Peri in origin, she would be a fool to immediately show suspicion to the peri under her roof. Kham is odd to her overall, but hopefully being upfront with her and trying to understand what issues her people have can help her get to the bottom of the string of assassinations.

#my oc #oc #kulîlk teyran #god that was a lot akshdkj #Im just in an oc mood nowadays

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author-a-holmes · 2 years

Note

wwycd numbers 18, 19, and 25 for a character (or characters!) of your choice?

I love multiple's in asks! Gonna spread these out into a couple of posts, but I'll tag you in the subsequent ones so you don't miss them <3

So for this one, it's number 18 - What would your character do if they found out they’re the heir to a small fortune?

This is an interesting question to me because, as I think about my answer, I've realised that most of my characters look at money the same way I do. As a tool. As a means to an end. As something other people want in exchange for goods.

All of my characters, even the villians in most cases, have something they want more than simply money.

Some of them might already be heirs to fortunes too, which could be getting into spoiler territory, so I'm gonna grab a sampling of characters for this one to muddy the waters a little. Some protagonists, and some choice side characters... And maybe a villian...

Tags;

@josephinegerardywriter @strangerays @whispersintheparchment @jezifster @faelanvance @noirepersonal @queen-kass-the-writer @athenswrites

Dara Brookor, Stolen

If Dara found out she was the heir to a small fortune, she'd use the gold to buy up and buy out all the brothels in Antillune, refurbish them so it was safer for the men and women working in them, set them up with appropriate protection, and then reopen the doors.

Before she went to work for Reilly as part of the guild she ran her own brothel. She ran it safely for the workers, and she made sure the clients paid up. As part-ogre, very few clients wanted to argue with her, and those that did... well, after she became friends with Reilly, they often found their homes broekn into and their valuables redistributed across the city.

While she enjoys working with Reilly, if Dara had gold in excess, she'd want to make the brothels of Antillune safe for the people working in them.

And being able to use them as a network of informants wouldn't be a bad side effect of that help, either.

Booker Reed, Fey Touched

This one's so angsty. If Booker found out that he was heir to a fortune, he'd hate it.

Booker's parents were murdered when he was a small child, and fey love deeply. Fey can die of a broken heart, and while familial love doesn't have quite the same risks as romantic love, Booker had no other family to take him in and help mitigate the loss of his parents.

He was very emotionally scarred for a very long time because of this, but with no other blood relatives the only source of inherited wealth would have come from his deceased parents, and he would hate it on principle.

He'd probably destroy it, or give it away. He would want his parents back, not an inherited wealth as if that was some kind of sad consolation prize.

"Don't think of it like a trade off. Instead, try to think of all the good you could do with-"

"I don't want to do good with it Lizzy, don't you see?!" Booker snapped, the letter from the Court crumpling in his fist.

"This doesn't fix anything. This doesn't bring them back. It's not enough. Nothing would ever be enough to make up for-"

His breath came in gasps, ragged and urgent as he cut off the words, and his head spun with blinding fury.

His heart throbbed with a bone deep ache that would never leave him.

Lizzy's arms around his shoulders, her face pressed against the back of his neck, her own calm heart vibrating through his back, slowing his own as their systems aligned.

She brought him back from the edge, and Booker felt the tears gather in his eyes, and he let himself slump into the grief. Let it wash over him and recede as the presence of his best friend burnt it away, like the sun melting the icy morning dew.

Without Lizzy, without Madeline, Booker knew he'd never have survived as long as he had. It was a gut deep knowing, with no evidence, but he knew it all the same and turning quickly he caught Lizzy in a crushing hug.

The 'thank you' deafeningly loud in the way his hands grasped her close, and the 'you're welcome' clear in the silent soothing strokes of her hand along his spine.

Krysis, A Grim Awakening

I've literally written next to nothing about Krysis yet, but I know her powers and her backstory, and the world lore that I'll be putting her into so I can still answer this one for her, sort of.

See, as a Grim Reaper, collecting the souls of the recently deceased and keeping them safe until they pass on to their individual version of the afterlife is all she's ever known. It's all any Reaper has ever known.

New Reapers aren't born, they just appear. They know how to do their jobs instinctively, and they don't know where they come from, so they simply keep working, keep moving forward.

If Krysis found out that she was heir to some fortune, she'd find the whole idea hysterical. Where did it come from? Why was it left to her? Most humans can't remember a Reaper once they've passed out of sight, so anyone leaving her anything of wealth, would just be highly amusing to her.

After she got over that, she'd probably ask Jack Sanger (the secondary protag in A Grim Awakening) what she should do with it, or her (currently unnamed) best friend, if this happened at a point where she hadn't yet met Jack.

If neither of them had any ideas, she'd probably ignore it, leaving it in whatever storage location is was housed in.

Reilly Mosswolf, Stolen

Reilly would make sure the inheritance wasn't a trap, or ploy, from an enemy, and then he'd funnel those funds directly into the guild vaults.

If there was enough, he'd upgrade the equiptment for his thieves.

Reilly is a thief because it's something he enjoys doing. More gold in the vault, just means that he can take on more risky jobs, take bigger chances and gambles. Hire more healers, or recruit a couple of wizards to help Myris.

More funds just means the expansion of the guild to him. He'd be delighted at that, but the gold itself would be a means to an end.

Mia Harris, Fey Touched

Mia might be the only one on this list in a position to genuinly inherit a small fortune. Her parents both hold seats on the european vampire council, and are influential politicians in the vampire nation.

They're already rich as a family, so if Mia was heir to a small fortune, because one of her parents, or a more distant relative died, she would assume nothing strange about it.

It's her inheritance. It's her right to claim it.

Mia's a very cold character, in that, even if it was her parents who died, she might grieve them quietly, privately, but she'd never let anyone see her falter, so she'd certainly continue to make use of such an inheritance to secure her own position in the vampire council, moving forward.

Especially so if she'd lost the direct support of her parents. She would use the money to survive in the cutthroat world of vampire politics.

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belit0 · 4 years

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Caught in the Act

sharinganslut

can you like have madara ruining your shit and tobirama and hashirama come in and catch you (female reader) thank you i’m just a slut😀 and fuck anon i want people to know i’m horny

We are all horny ppl when it comes to the Uchiha. I fucking support you a lot, I’m like that but with Indra

Rating: E

Pairing: [Uchiha Madara / Fem Reader]

Additional Characters: [Senju Hashirama] [Senju Tobirama]

Tw: Domination, Degrading, Roughness, Some Praising

“Tell me why do I have to be here when this is a favor requested of you?

"Because if I have to suffer Hashirama’s lack of intellect, you as my lover will too. Now find that man’s fucking coat so he can stop bothering me.”

It’s nothing new to witness the leader of the Senju lose and forget his Hokage dressing gown, but it’s something that always causes great annoyance to the leader of the Uchiha. Outraged at his old friend’s lack of responsibility, when Hashirama asks him to help find it for him, Madara only avoids exploding in the air because he knows it’s a good excuse to spend time with you and not working.

“I could be taking a nap at home… Or having some sweet jasmine tea while thinking about the beautiful face you make when you get angry… Maybe even eating something while I remember your muscles on me and- ”

“You’re walking on thin ice, [Y/N]. Shut up and look.”

With a tense posture, Madara passed by you, heading to check out the different rooms of his best friend’s house. Imitating his action, you took a different route from him, and searched the other end of the big building.

Sliding the door of Hashirama’s main room, you hit the target first. On the large two-person bed, stretched out, red and immaculate, lay that piece of cloth that gave reason to your lover’s grumpiness.

Entering the bedroom, you slid your hand over the material, feeling the softness in your fingertips. A mischievous urge attacked your mind, and a great idea to provoke Madara suddenly struck you.

Quickly, to prevent him from catching you in the act, you put on the Hokage garment, which was considerably large. Hashirama was monstrously tall, so the cloth touched the floor and dragged over it when you slid it over your shoulders.

Laughing weakly, you looked at yourself in the mirror on one of the walls, and found that the cloth was not at all flattering in your form. Even more tempted, you tried to keep your composure, and prepared for the stampede that would come upon you in a minute.

“Dear! I found it! But there’s something wrong with it, hurry up up and come have a look!”

After a second, you heard Madara’s footsteps approaching the room where you were, and the anticipation in your chest began to grow. Suddenly, you regretted your stupid joke a little. Walking down the corridor, you heard him talking, without even reaching the door.

“What do you mean by something wrong? If you did something to that damn piece of trash I swear that-”

Posing, you surprised him with a… great… idea. With both arms in the air and over your head, you put on the best smile of satisfaction that your features could have had at his reaction, and despite the growing anxiety in your stomach about his glance, you rejoiced for a second in the situation.

Yes, one second.

From the door frame, the Uchiha was paralyzed by the image you offered to him. His eyes had quickly changed from a deep black colour to a bright red, with an unnerving dancing pattern in them, characteristic of Mangekyōu.

His shoulders were stiff in their stance, his chest was forced up and down by clearly strained breathing, his biceps were increasingly inflated with every second that passed thanks to the two fists he held tightly on either side of his body.

His hair began to bristle, and the tension in the air became extremely heavy. Not brave enough to speak or look him in the eye, you put your hands together in front of your legs, bent your shoulders and your head. Reducing your size as much as possible, as if trying to make yourself invisible to Madara’s terrifying gaze, you waited for the inevitable.

With the voice that made your blood run cold and your hair stand on end, he spoke, intimidating from across the room.

“What… are you… doing… with… that…”

“I-I-”

A grunt erupted from his chest, deep and serious, animalistic, making you exult when it hit your ears. Without courage, you continued to stare at the ground.

“That… belongs… to him.”

You nodded, hoping that your good behavior would calm the beast in front of you.

“You… are… not… his…”

Another nod.

“So, tell me… WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT?”

“I-IM S-SORRY-Y”

“Look at me.”

Trembling and in your reduced form, you raised your head reluctantly, staring at those terrifying red orbs. Suddenly, all you wanted to do was take off that dressing gown once and for all, show Madara that it was a foolish mistake.

“Who is your owner?”

“Madara-Sama.”

You said it without hesitation, quickly after his question, which generated a slight smile of satisfaction on the Uchiha’s face. Crossing his arms over his chest and looking at you over his nose, he continued.

“Are you mine, or are you his [Y/N]?

"I am all yours Madara-Sama.”

“Kneel before me.”

“Look what a pathetic bitch you are, dressed in that shit, taking my orders without a problem… Tell me [Y/N] Why should I fuck you right now?”

Knowing your man’s habits, you answered.

“Because I’m a stupid little whore who needs your cock right here, right now. Please Madara-Sama, don’t deny it to me, I need you inside my tight pussy.

"Oh well, really? If my slut is so desperate for my dick, you leave me no choice but to give you what you ask for.”

“Please sir.”

“Come here.”

On all fours, knowing what turns him on, you crawled to his feet, where you sat back on your knees and looked at him from below.

“Use your filthy little mouth.”

Obeying his orders, you rose to the height of his hips. Biting the waist of his trousers, you captured the cloth between your teeth, and with experience you lowered it strongly to his ankles.

“What a talented little pup, an expert in doing everything without hands… Go on”

Smiling slightly at his compliment, you repeated the action, but in his underwear, revealing a semi-erect limb, which promised to harden with little effort.

“No hands, or I’ll have to take them off.”

Faced with Madara’s threat, you understood that it was better to stick to his rule than to challenge him, and you introduced his penis into your mouth, maneuvering your head at a strange angle.

Working at a steady pace, his member became rigid in a matter of a couple humid strokes and your task became easier. Moaning at the situation generated by a foolish prank, you devoured your man’s cock with hunger.

After a few minutes in the same rhythm, Madara needed a speed boost, and he grabbed your hair. Combing it into his grip while breathing heavily thanks to your supplies, he held it with one of his big hands, forming a ponytail. With the new security of the hairstyle, he was able to use your hair as a handle to press your head harder against his length. As your nose hit his pelvis and your throat begged for a break, you placed both hands on his thighs, trying to free yourself from his hold.

At that moment, he stopped all activity dead on, but did not allow you to free your mouth. Even with his limb inside your moist cavity, he moved away from you a little to stop the pressure at the bottom of your throat, and spoke.

“I said without hands [Y/N]… Did your hunger for my dick cloud your mind? No problem, I told you that I would take care of it if necessary.”

Without further ado, he took your wrists and held them above your head, fully stretching your arms. Releasing your hair, he gave you the freedom to move as you wished, but now your upper limbs were minutes away from losing circulation and falling asleep, which was a big pain in the ass.

Because that’s what Madara is really like, a big, big pain in the ass.

Taking up your task, you put your best effort to make him cum just with your mouth. Moaning over his member, your pussy was dripping from him to hear him talk, on the verge of his orgasm.

“Oh [Y/N] don’t you dare stop, keep it up, you beautiful obedient whore. Eat my whole cock like it’s all you need, I want to fill that naughty little slut’s mouth with all my cum”.

“Agh… -gasp- [Y/N] -gasp- I’m… I’m…”

A shot of hot liquid hit the bottom of your throat, while you felt his limb throbbing inside your cavity. Swallowing everything he had to offer, you dutifully waited for his release to end.

“What a good puppy… I think you’ve earned the benefit of being rewarded. Take it all off.”

With a broad smile coming from his compliments, you did what he asked, standing completely naked in front of him.

“Put Hashirama’s coat back on.”

Without wanting to contradict him and make him angry again, you took the garment from the floor and dressed it on your naked body, looking at him with curious and expectant eyes.

“In bed, lying on your stomach.”

Putting yourself in the right position, you waited.

“Show me that beautiful ass of mine, rise it up.”

Following his demand, and with your stomach still leaning on the bed, you positioned your legs over your knees, providing an easy entrance for Madara. What you did not expect, is that the Uchiha would continue with his jealousy whim.

Taking Hashirama’s gown in both hands, he tore a hole where your cunt was, accessing it through the fabric instead of removing it from your body.

“MADARA! WE ARE SUPPOSED TO TAKE THIS TO HASHIR- ”

Two fingers were inserted mercilessly inside you without warning, moving towards a specific point that made you moan suddenly.

“You will not say another man’s name when you are giving yourself to me you naughty whore.”

An overpowering spanking hit your skin covered by cloth, making your whole being vibrate.

“Tell me [Y/N], tell me whose pussy is this.”

“…M-Mad-dara’s!”

A third finger entered you, moving at an overwhelming frequency. A second spanking hit your buttock before he spoke again.

“You don’t sound very convinced… I’m going to ask you again. Who is the owner of this pathetic little cunt?”

“MADARA-SAMA!”

His tongue attacked your slit for a few long seconds, before inserting his fingers back into you accompanied by more spanking.

“PLEASE MADARA I BEG YOU.”

“What is it [Y/N]? What does my slut want?”

“I NEED YOUR COCK INSIDE ME, DON’T TEASE ME ANYMORE, PLEAHHHG… -gasp-”

He got into you firmly, using your fluids as sufficient lubrication to slide in. Hashirama’s coat soon found itself soaked in the body liquids flowing from the union between the two bodies, with the hole in the fabric being the main factor in allowing penetration.

Lost in the pleasure of both, drowning in moaning and heat, neither of you noticed when the front door opened and closed, when footsteps sounded down the hall, or when two pairs of curious and surprised eyes stopped to look at the scene unfolding before them.

“M-Madara?”

The Uchiha slammed on the brakes, being able to recognize that voice anywhere. Not coming out of you, he faced the gaze of Hashirama and Tobirama.

Understanding the situation, you refused to face those men, and hid your face in your arms and the leftover cloth, holding your eyes and hoping that the shame would soon be over.

“This… well…"

Without noticing it, his pelvis moved involuntarily towards you, hitting a spot with his member just inside you and making you moan in front of the two brothers.

Tobirama blushed completely, coughing uncomfortably and looking away, while Hashirama seemed not to care at all.

"Is that my dressing gown?

"Yes… we found it…”

“Oh well… oh well… I’ll send you the ticket later… Shall we go Tobi?”

“But brother! They are using your bed, they broke your clothes, they desecrate your room! You should say something to that damn Uchiha instead of…”

A growl of fury escaped from inside Madara, who was still inside you, when Hashirama interrupted before a fight broke out.

“Now, now, Tobi, you’ll understand when you stop being a virgin… come on, there’s a new tea shop I’m really dying to try!”

“HASHIRAMA!”

The front door soon opened and closed again, and at the same time, Madara took his overwhelming step over you, thanking his beautiful friendship with Hashi from the heart.

#uchiha madara #senju tobirama #senju hashirama #madara x reader #madara uchiha x reader #uchiha madara x reader #madara #tobirama #hashirama #x reader #founders #naruto shippuden #naruto x reader #naruto imagines

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aurorawest · 2 years

Note

Hi I loved reading your jamshid/muntadhir fics and am absolutely obsessed with the way you write them. I was wondering if you'd write more fics with them or maybe with muntadhir/dara (this is my new ship, there's so MUCH ansgt and potential there and I saw you like Dara too!!). Sorry if this seems weird or anything just wondering if you'll write more daevabad fics I'll read anything with dhiru/jamshid/dara. Also thank you for your fics there are so few dhirujamshid fics out there!!

Oh my gosh thank you so much!! You're so kind, and I'm so glad you like the way I write them!! 😄 😄 The ship is tailor made for me, haha. Muntadhir is exactly my type of character, and my favorite kind of ship is where one party is an absolute mess, and the other is really steady and solid and keeps all their turmoil to themselves.

I won't say that I'd never write Muntadhir/Dara, but it's hard for me to imagine a situation where I could get them together, except in a very messed up way (okay wait...now the gears are turning haha). But yeah I don't know that I would ever write them having feelings for each other, since they're both very much in love with other people.

Thank you again for your kind words!

#the daevabad trilogy

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shinylitwick94 · 2 years

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Wheel of Time S1 episode 8 thoughts

Under the cut for spoilers

Ok that was admittedly weird.

I’ll start this by saying that while I like WoT I’ve never particularly liked EotW, and I disliked its ending in particular for being a giant convoluted mess that had nothing to do with what had come before. I expected it to be changed, for good reason.

But I really don’t think this was the way to do it.

The stakes were both too high and too low, the power levels were all over the place, the writing was suddenly weird and clunky again, and it was just very, very confusing.

I was really hoping they were going to keep the prologue for this episode, and I’m rather disappointed they didn’t. The scene with LTT was fine, but it fails in getting across the enormity of both the DR’s power and what LTT is about to do. I liked it well enough, but it needed way more oomph, IMHO

Not letting Rand fry the trollocs in Tarwin’s Gap was another mistake. We’ve had a whole season of jumping around with every other character, trying to keep the mystery of the DR. We needed this episode to be all about the Dragon, and therefore all about Rand.

The need to give every other character something to do in this episode massively dragged it down. It might have been best to just have them sit in Fal Dara, have them help out a little bit, maybe have them all involved in the Fain subplot or looking for the horn, or darkfriends or sth, build up the approaching trolloc army, and then have Rand blast it.

The bit with the women channelers was clunky and had too much awkward dialogue. Nyneave burning up was unnecessary, and having Egwene heal Nyneave and not the opposite is a sure way to piss off the fandom. Perrin most obviously had nothing to do and that entire exchange with Padan Fain made no sense in where it came in the episode and in terms of what both characters know. Perrin’s choice in particular is weird because there’s been not enough setup of his issues of axe vs hammer, so the whole thing feels like it comes out of nowhere.

Ishy and Rand were ok, but again underwhelming. It honestly makes me feel like maybe a bit more exposition was needed here, but I guess if you want to keep the whole Ishy is not actually the DO you can’t say much? Basically, I think the audience wasn’t given enough to understand why this wasn’t the last battle and that Rand and Moiraine were tricked into coming to the Eye. We’re just...told that, seemingly out of the blue, by Fain and Moiraine. There is no feeling, no impact in OMG we just did all of this and it was for nothing. I think if that had been more clearly set up and explained it would have helped this episode a lot.

And then there’s a few things that are just bizarre...Fain stabbing Loial? Rand just taking off into the Blight? And then the Seanchan were just...there? I mean I like seeing them, but that was just weird and out of nowhere.

So yeah,all in all one of my least favorite episodes this season. Which is a tragedy really, because I felt like we had been getting continuously better since Ep 4.

I’m seeing words like ‘butchered’ and ‘neutered’ being thrown around which I find both excessive and irritating, and in the case of ‘neutered’ indicative of a certain mindset I can’t stand. I’m sick of feeding the rageclickbait industry and I will have no part in it. So none of that from me.

Yes, I didn’t particularly like this episode, I thought it was frustrating and disappointing, and I may vent about it again. But that’s it. I’ve better thing to do in life than be permanently outraged.

Final veredict:

Do I dislike it more than EotW’s ending? Eh, they’re about equal amounts of nonsensical, but this one irked me more.

Do I like the season overall better than EotW? Hell yes, no argument there.

Would I recommend the show? Yes, it’s fun and probably will get better in later seasons.

#shinylitwick watches tv shows #wheel of time #wot show

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astaldis · 2 years

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Season 2 - What a ride

BEWARE SOME SPOILERS AHEAD if you haven’t finished watching season 2 yet.

Just finished binging season 2 together with my son. What a ride! There was a lot of really great stuff and acting, but I’m so glad I read the books after having watched season 1, otherwise I sure would have been pretty confused about a lot of stuff, even more confused than with the different timelines in season 1 (which were brilliant in my opinion, when I had finally figured them out and truly made the show stand out). For instance it’s rather difficult to get an idea of how much time had passed between the Battle of Sodden Hill and all the other events. Sometimes there is snow, then there isn’t, then the trees leaves are in autumn colours, bellies, beards and hair is growing, but there are hardly any hints at a comprehensible time frame. Or did I miss them? (maybe I’ll be somewhat wiser after rewatching it)

In comparison with the books there are quite a few changes and additions that I like a lot, for example the mysterious monoliths and the new monsters.

Other things don’t make that much sense to me though, for example how Francesca and Filavandriel could possible assume that they could simply ignore their part of the deal and not fight for the Empire but keep Cintra? They both are not stupid and would be aware that the Nilfgaardian emperor would not be amused and would surely not let them get away with it. Or why did Dara spy for Redanian Intelligence??? He was safe in Cintra with the other elves. Even if Djikstra helped him escape, there was no reason at all that he would actually tell the “owl” anything. Or why on earth did nobody try to stop Yennefer and Cahir from running away from the execution? There were plenty of powerful mages there and there should have been lots of guards with all those kings and queens present at the event, plus Yen could not perform any magic and Cahir had no weapon at all, it should have been so easy to stop them. I’m glad they made it out and like their journey together, but the escape was so badly conceived that I find it a lot more convincing in my bloody FANFIC. Not to mention that if Yen had gone through with executing Cahir this would not have proven that she was not conspiring with Nilfgaard at all, since Cahir had lost Emhyr the war and Cirilla, so the emperor would probably not have been upset about the execution at all, it would have saved him the trouble of doing it himself (in the books there were quite a few executions of Nilfgaardian officers after the disaster of Sodden Hill on the emperor’s orders). So the whole idea was rather ridiculous and made no sense. (Not taking into account that chopping off somebody’s head is not exactly easy, it’s hard to believe that the mages would have wanted Yennefer to do it, it would probably have been a quite messy affair.)

But even in spite of some plot holes and other stuff that I think could have been done better, it’s a great show. Loved most of the characters (Rience for example is a great new villain), the music (and the new bard songs although none of them is as catchy as “Toss a coin”), the wit (which there could have been more of, it was mostly only in the scenes with Jaskier), the stunning locations, costumes and animations. I’ll probably rewatch it tomorrow and then wait very impatiently for the next season. Which will hopefully not take another two years before it drops. And maybe plan a holiday in the UK in the summer to visit some of the beautiful locations.

UPDATE: After having watched it for a second time, I feel like I do understand most of it now :D and there’s a lot of detail that I missed the first time around, so it’s definitely worth rewatching. And the new songs get catchier and catchier the more often you listen to them, like “Burn” and the “Prison blues” better than “Toss a coin now”

#witcher season 2 #the witcher netflix #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #eamon farren #netflix witcher #cahir

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graffitiskies · 3 years

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━♡ guess the 26 year old july baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because jeon yooseul is just as wild as the month of july. wait, why do they remind me of bae suji? beyond that, they seemed audacious and impartial upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of stormful and brusque though. i hope they get acquainted here in complex #3 / apartment #0722 / floor # 2 ; she seems to have a lot going on with her job as a rideshare driver.

tw: missing persons

hey everyone!!!! ;u; i’m so glad to be joining you at this ungodly hour (it’s literally after 4am here SMH!!) but hey when the muse hits you IT HITS YOU LIKE A CINDERBLOCK and i for one love when i get a weird burst of sudden muse for a new character hehe :> anyways, that character would be jeon yooseul, a somewhat asocial rideshare driver who’s been living at dallyeog for about a year now :0 pretty much all the info i have for her is below, but in case you’d rather not read a big stretch of text all together, here’s some individual page links: x, x & x :)

profile / stats basic

full name - jeon yooseul nickname/s - yoo, yoojwi ( from her aunt due to her quiet nature ) age - twenty six dob - 07/22/1994 gender identity - cis female orientation/s - pansexual / demiromantic blood type - o born - gyeonggi-do, south korea grew up - pohang, south korea nationality - korean occupation: rideshare driver languages: korean, conversational japanese, very basic english

personality

label - the thunderstorm traits - audacious, stormful, impartial, brusque, enigmatic, aloof aesthetics - long drives with no destination, concealed crying fits, lonely shadow puppets on the wall in the waning sun, wind and raindrops in your hair, smudged lip balm, beat up messenger bags, the jingling of keys, continental drift, being left on read western horoscope - cancer chinese zodiac - dog alignment - chaotic neutral mbti - the logician ( intp-t ) enneagram - the philosopher ( 5w4 ) disc type - the architect ( Dc )

appearance

fc - bae su-ji ( bae suzy ) hair - deep brown and usually worn naturally, with little effort put in. eye color - black build - slender clothing style - simple, aimless - lots of blacks, earth tones and neutrals. owns a few leather jackets. piercings - both ears in multiple places tattoos - a small heart on her left ring finger, a heart topped with a cross on lower part of the back of her neck

familial ties

mother - jeon hyesun ( status unknown ) father - jeon soonil ( status unknown ) siblings - younger brother jeon yoohwan ( 20, currently in university ) aunt - im darae ( 49, living in pohang ) uncle - im jongho ( 52, living in pohang )

biography

yooseul was born in the muggy, oppressive heat of july to two very kind, yet very naive people. they were both young; barely 19 when they had yooseul, and were in no position to take care of a child. however, they still took on the challenge, as it was simply the kind of people they were.

while the pair meant well, they were always leaving yooseul with her aunt and uncle before traipsing off on another adventure. they loved traveling the world doing all kinds of thrilling, but reckless activities. climbing infamous mountain peaks, visiting the sites of active volcanos, boating down the amazon river with scarce supplies. the little girl would overhear pieces of arguments between her aunt & uncle and her parents. yooseul’s aunt and uncle tended to look out for her even more than her parents did, and were adamant that all the traveling was actively harming yooseul’s development. her mother and father remained steadfast that their daughter wouldn’t even remember this stretch of her life, due to how young she was.

when yooseul’s brother was born, everyone was a bit hopeful that yooseul’s parents would slow down with their jet-setting lifestyle, but if anything, it seemed to kick them into high gear. it was as though having a second child made them feel as though the clock were ticking on their lives, and off they were again on another adrenaline rush.

as yooseul grew enough to truly comprehend and lament her parents’ absence, it was only then that they seemed to finally understand the effect they were having. then again, anyone would probably start listening when their young child is on their knees, begging and crying with an intensity of someone’s whose heart was truly breaking. the trips slowed to a crawl and became every once in a while, rather than every other weekend. yooseul grew passive about them by age seven, as they were so infrequent, so when her parents told her they’d be going on a hiking trip to the south korean evergreen forests, she honestly didn’t think much of it.

she hadn’t seen her aunt and uncle in months, and she and her brother could fly kites in their spacious garden. it was a handful of positives, or so yooseul thought. ( tw begins here ) the days stretched on at their house, and it seemed to be taking a bit longer for her parents to return than she’d anticipated. she could tell something may have been wrong by the hushed conversations her aunt and uncle had, coupled with teary phone calls to people that yooseul couldn’t seem to make out.

she learned the truth while eavesdropping on a news story about her parents; apparently they had gone out hiking as planned, but they had never returned back to the hotel they were staying at. several searches had been conducted in the forest, but only scant, inconclusive traces of the couple were found.

as she was just a child, yooseul knew only hope. her parents would come back one day. why wouldn’t they? they’d been hiking before. they knew what they were doing. days turned into months, and optimism turned into doubt. the evergreen forests were so large and covered so much ground - and who knew if they were even still in there?

( end of tw ) her aunt and uncle did what they could for her and her brother, as the two had gained custody of the children due to their frequent care of them. while her brother was able to develop at a relatively normal pace, yooseul withdrew inside of herself for the most part. the hope she had once known had shifted into stinging pessimism. she loved the family she had left of course, but she was terrible at opening up about what she was feeling, and she was so reluctant for people to see any weakness in her. she had to be the strong one, and it was so much easier to be strong when you let emotions roll off your back entirely.

yooseul had difficult focusing on the things that went on around her, especially in school. she never really made socializing a priority, and her grades were abysmal. it was honestly a wonder that she graduated at all, but her aunt and uncle didn’t want her to be without a secondary diploma, so they refused to let her fall back irretrievably far.

trying to enter the workforce was even worse. she’d sworn off university, and all the small trade jobs she got never seemed to last more than a couple of months, mostly due to her lack of interest. she simply drifted from one meaningless wad of money to the next, either saving it up in a jar for goals she didn’t have or slipping it into her aunt’s purse when she’d refuse to take it directly.

having no prospects might have seemed like a downer of a life to live, but yooseul didn’t really think of things in those terms - she was solely focused on existing in whatever moment she was in and doing whatever she wanted to do. after her aunt and uncle surprised her with a fairly nice kia k8 (as they knew it was something she’d never buy for herself), she leaned into late night drives for comfort. there was something about being alone, feeling the wind ruffling through your hair, some mindless song on the radio recorded solely to push false emotions, watching the lines on the road come at you like knives when you push the limits of the car’s engine. it felt free.

after hearing word of a new rideshare app launching from her uncle, yooseul decided to apply to be a driver. she had nothing else going on at the moment, and those late night drives she enjoyed so much could actually make her some money.

she’s been doing it for a few years now and enjoys it as much as yooseul can enjoy something. the social aspect of it can be a bit awkward, so she loves nothing more than when her passenger keeps their face locked on their phone in silence. she’s since moved out of her aunt and uncle’s place and intro her own apartment at dallyeog. she figured it was finally time to move on, as her brother was now entering college and hadn’t really needed any help taking care of for some time now. maybe, deep down, she’d stuck around so long for sentimental reasons, but she’d never ever admit that.

wanted connections ( first come first serve )

anniversary of an uninteresting event ( open ) - yooseul never talks about it, but y/m saw the story about her parents on some exploitative talk show where they launched a ton of conspiracy theories about what happened. you want to set the record straight, but she doesn’t really wanna hear it.

be quiet and drive ( open ) - y/m orders a ride from yooseul with no set destination in mind. they’ve just had a really awful day and want to zoom through the city towards the sunset without looking back. lucky for them, that is just yooseul’s vibe.

needles and pins ( open ) - y/m and yooseul knew eachother before she moved into dallyeog, possibly even dating back to childhood. they actually know her better than most of the people she’s around now, which makes her mighty uncomfortable. she feels as if they hold some sort of key to a past she thought she’d locked away forever.

cherry waves ( open ) - nobody knows how y/m and yooseul came together, but every time they come into contact, they both immediately lose themselves. sitting on the beaches of busan with a bottle of whiskey, tiptoeing on the edge of dallyeog’s rooftop hand in hand, or ending up a tangled mess of flushed skin and kiss-swollen lips in the back of yooseul’s car; wherever they are, time doesn’t seem to exist.

battle axe ( open ) - yooseul can be a little abrasive when she’s irritated, and maybe that’s why y/m likes pushing her buttons so much. maybe they just like to challenge her attitude of not caring about anything.

passenger ( open ) - somehow, every time y/m orders from the rideshare app, they end up with yooseul as their driver. it’s not that she doesn’t get them there safely and on time, but she can be...rather scary. maybe all it would take is a few conversations, and they’d see she’s not so bad, and maybe even bump up her rating to three stars?

hole in the earth ( open ) - yooseul did the unthinkable when she and y/m were together a few years ago: she actually opened up. she told them things she never thought she’d tell anyone, and y/m didn’t really understand the weight of that decision for her, betraying her trust. seeing y/m again now is just reopening old wounds and pouring on the salt.

digital bath ( open ) - for whatever reason, it is way easier for yooseul to have lengthier conversations over texts, snaps and other various digital means of communication. perhaps it’s not having to see the person’s reaction in real-time and therefor not having to process any of her own emotions. y/m is one of the only people who actually indulges her on this, and now they have become somewhat friendly as a result.

this is all i have for the moment, but i am v enthusiastic about brainstorming things based on chemistry and character traits or of course scooping up one of your open plots!

#dallyeog:intro #/omg this got v long & i apologize ;-; but if you'd like to plot please do like this and i'll come invade ur ims!! unless disc*rd is easier #/in which case just ask and i'll be happy to share :^)

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xwing-baby · 4 years

Text

Freedom (Mandalorian X Reader

Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), The Child, Reader, OC Vinca Dara

Warnings: Mentions of sexual abuse, canon level violence

Word Count: 5691

Synopsis: Y/N is a princess from a planet in the inner rim. Successfully escaping her fate as a Imperial wife, she unfortunately becomes a target for the Mandalorian.

A/N: WOW I look pretty good for a dead bitch! I’m back after a two year writing hiatus, with a fic nobody asked for. This is my blog I’ll do what I want. I noticed that there’s not much Mandalorian stuff here, and the only stuff is all smutty and romantic. No more. Strictly professional relationships here. Basically it’s what I would write if I got to be a writer on the show. ENJOY

Tagged: @tortles @inked-poet @dartheldur

My home planet, in the core of the galaxy, was rich and prosperous. I grew up happily oblivious to any struggle that surrounded me outside the palace walls. I grew up with two older brothers, both jostling for the throne from the age of ten. My mother died in childbirth with me, so my father ruled alone. I had no other family, as I would later learn they had all been murdered by my father and his men to ensure his unopposed ascension to power.

It wasn’t until I was nearly sixteen years old that I learnt about what my father had done and what was really going on behind the palace walls. The only time I’d ever been allowed out of the palace grounds until that point was for public events, I would stand and wave and smile at the people who came to see us while my father gave a speech about peace and prosperity. However, on my sixteenth birthday I met a boy named Han. Han helped me escape for that one night, showed me around the surrounding city, and my life changed forever.

A year later, I made my first escape attempt. I didn’t get very far beyond that city perimeter before I was dragged back by the royal guards. I tried again, getting to the next town before again being captured and sent back to my father.

On my eighteenth birthday, I decided I would try once more. This time I had enlisted Han’s help, now a smuggler, to get me off the planet. I crept out in the depths of night, managed to find the ship and I was gone. That was until the captain of the ship found out who I was, held me hostage and shot me in the arm for trying to escape him and the planet. As it turned out the captain was a great supporter of my father and returned me, with a small fee for the favour of course.

For the next year, my father kept me under close supervision. But unlike my father, I had sympathy and empathy. I managed to make friends with my supervisor, a old lady named Ellyn. She taught me a lot about what was really going on outside the capitol. The famines and the abuse from the royal guards to the local people. She also told me of the growing concern within the palace of my father’s changing allegiance from the New Republic. These concerns only grew when Storm Troopers were spotted on the outskirts of the city.

Then I got the news. My father was intending to marry me off to Vinca Dara, the son of an Imperial officer, to aid the new Empire. I was horrified. My uncle had told me stories of the Old Empire when I was little, the pain it brought into the galaxy. The thought of having to be a part of anything like that made me sick. I had to run away, for good this time.

With Ellyn’s help, I managed to barter a ship and escape the planet without anyone realising. I reached the outer rim before anyone knew. By the time anyone had started to look for me I had landed on a new planet.

And that brought me here. A small, dirty back street bar in the centre of the city. The outer rim was not somewhere good for a princess to be, so to avoid the risk of anyone recognising me, I cut my hair, changed my name and hid.

Of course, a few bounty hunter’s had made their way to me. But I seemingly had luck on my side because they either gave up or I fought them off before they could capture me. The last attempt was several months ago now, I was comfortable and certain that my father had just given up.

The bar was busy, as always. Full of criminals and outcasts from the inner rim searching the wild space to something to do, or to give them purpose again. I had to learn fast who and who not to joke with. I learnt a lot more about the galaxy in the last three months of being in this cantina than I had in my life so far.

“Hey! No droids!” I called, not even lifting my head from the sink as I spotted a glint of metal in the corner of my mind.

“That’s not a droid, you idiot,” My coworker, Tann, jabbed me in the ribs, “That’s a mandalorian!” He hissed. “Sorry, she’s new!” He apologised. The Mandalorian didn’t respond.

“New to the galaxy,” One of the creatures at the bar slurred into his drink.

“Alright Rex calm down,” I said, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know they were real,” I said quietly as we all watched the man sit down at an empty table on the other side of the bar. Rex laughed and shook his head.

“You really crawled out from under a rock or something?”

“Just go do your job, please,” Tann sighed.

I nodded and confidently walked over to the bounty hunter.

“What can I get you?”

“I’m trying to find Asker,” The Mandalorian said, looking around behind me. Asker was a regular, a troublemaker and a renowned criminal, but he was paid his bill so the owners of the bar never minded too much. I wondered why the Mandalorian was looking for him for a moment before answering.

“He left a little while ago,” I replied, “But I imagine he won’t have gone far, maybe try the hostel up the street. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you,” The Mandalorian shook his head and stood up to leave.

“Mando!” The pot bellied Asker bellowed through the bar, announcing his presence before he waddled inside. For such a small creature he certainly knew how to make himself known. Asker was just over four feet tall, with grey-ish skin. His large eyes took most of his face that wasn’t covered by a whiley red beard. For someone so small, he was incredibly strong and quick on a trigger, the blast marks that covered the walls of the bar were testament to that.

The Mandalorian and Asker walked together to the darker back of the bar, specifically reserved for Asker's shady business. Like I said, the owners didn’t really care as long as he paid the bills.

“You know Mando, it’s been for too long! I missed you,” Asker cried.

“You didn’t,”

“No, not really,” Asker barked a laugh, “but I did miss your talent. These new hands they’ve got at the Guild? Awful! Can barely even shoot straight! I’ve been trying to get this quarry off my hands for weeks! All of the have been unsuccessful, so I thought it’s high time I call my lovely friend Mando and get some real professional on the job,”

“I don’t work for you,”

“Not even for half a million credits?”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,can I get you anything?”

“The usual, thanks darling. My metal friend here can’t drink so he’s all good,”

“Coming right up,”

I stepped back to the bar, and they talked a lot quieter from then. I poured the drink and walked back over, back in earshot of the conversation.

“Kids a royal runaway,” Asker said quietly. “Her father is a pretty big deal out in the Mirrin Sector. Last I heard, she’s here in hiding,”

“Any name?”

“Y/n L/n,”

I put the drinks down carefully, trying not let either of the men see how much my hands were shaking. My heart was racing against my chest and I scurried away before I could hear anything else. I leant against the bar and took some deep breaths and tried to calm down. It was fine, I’d fought off the last guys I could do it again. It’s not like mandalorian are the best bounty hunters in the known universe, no. Oh stars!

“I’m going out for a minute,” I said quickly, already walking out the back door before he could even say yes. I pulled the apron off from around my waist, shoving it into a cargo box before stepping into the bright light outside.

I squinted and let my eyes adjust to the bright light. Looking back inside, the Mandalorian had not noticed me leave. I was safe for now. I walked through the city's crowded streets, back to where I was staying to come up with a plan.

I smiled to myself, I’d gotten away with it once again! But four times was too many to be nearly captured by bounty hunters. It was no use anymore just moving to the city, I had to get off the planet.

The port was quiet, as it would be late in the afternoon. Everyone was either eating or sleeping while the sun started to cool down. I tried the first few stations but each door was locked, the next was empty and the one after it was covered in druids working on the rusted shell. Then, bay 8. The door was open, there were no druids around and the ship looked in pretty good condition. It was old, pre empire but it looked steady. I quickly checked behind me, that no one had seen me, then went inside, pushing the large gate shut behind me. I had found my ticket out of here.

My uncle had taught me to fly when I was very little. He unfortunately was murdered by my father before I turned 12 but I cherished the memories I had with him and was extremely grateful for the skills he had passed on now. The first time I ran away I ended on a workers ship and learnt very quickly that the price to pay to get onto the ships and out alive was far too high. The blast scar up my right arm was a reminder of that. Being able to steal a ship and fly it on my own was a major boost. Unfortunately I had been caught before I had managed to leave a planet before. Now was my chance.

I ran around the ship first, checking it out and making sure there was no one hiding on it. Now, to get inside...

Before I could even step closer to it, the cargo load hissed and pulled open. I pulled out my blaster and aimed it at the door. I stepped onto the metal once it hit the sand, and barely had the other in step when I saw who had opened it.

The Mandalorian.

Shit.

I kept my blaster raised, and we both stared at each other down for a few moments.

“You’re Y/n L/n?” He asked carefully.

“Are you going to kill me if I am?” I retorted. “Cus you’re not the first Asker has sent after me and I know my father wants me alive there’s no way you’re gunna kill me if you want the credits,”

“Lower your weapon,” He commanded. I refused.

I kept it steadfast. I could do a standoff, all day. I was not going back home. The mandalorian sighed and shot once, barely missing my head, as a warning. I didn’t flinch.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Tin Man. Asker must have said I don’t come easy,” I jeered, taunting him. He couldn’t kill me! Wouldn’t risk half a million credits on that. The mandalorian stepped forward, and I took two steps back. “I just want to get off this planet, I’ll pay you. More than you’ll

get for bringing me in,”

Before I could say anymore, the Mandlorian fired a dart into my chest. I looked down at it for a moment, then back at him then fell to the ground. Black.

I came too sometime later, handcuffed to the side of the Mandalorian’s ship. My hands and feet here tied. It was quiet. Looking around me, I was in the hold. A small ladder disappeared above me to the rest of the ship. I had no idea where we were, had he taken my request? Or was I on my way back to the hell hole that is my home planet.

I had to find some way out. Someway to get myself free. I tried to move to reach a tool box so cruelly just out of my reach, but it was no use. Then I heard a little squeal from behind a box. I turned to see where it was coming from but there was nothing. Again, another squeal and a giggle? Was it a rat? I wouldn’t be surprised if there were rats aboard, the place hadn’t been cleaned in forever. But rats don’t giggle, no matter where they’re from.

Suddenly, a tiny green creature popped up from behind the box. It peered at me for a moment, then hid again. It was so cute!

“Hey little buddy,” I said quietly, “I won’t hurt you,” The creature slowly stepped out and babbled something at me. I didn’t understand what it said, even if it was speaking any proper language. “Where’d you come from buddy? He got you trapped here too?” The baby giggled and waddled over to me. I smiled and curled my legs round underneath me to let it get a bit closer. I didn’t see any danger in a creature so small. “Why does Mandalorian have a little baby? You’re not his kid are you?”

“Hey! Get away from her,” The Mandalorian had appeared in the hold while I was focused on the baby. The baby babbled and toddled back happily to the Mandalorian.

“What is that?”

“Nothing,”

“It’s not nothing, it’s a baby,” Suddenly I remembered I had seen a drawing of a creature like that one before. My uncle told me about it, a Jedi master or something. “Do you know what it is? My uncle showed me a picture of one of those once, it was a jedi! I bet it can do weird stuff, right? Where did you get it?”

The Mandalorian ignore my questions and picked up the creature, walked across to the other side of the hold and put it away in a large cupboard. Cruel. I became spiteful.

“Fine, ignore me then. I’ll just report you to the Guild when I get back home. Tell them you have that thing! People would pay good money for information on a Mandalorian gone rogue! And to think Mandalorian and Jedi were enemies for years, didn’t they murder your kind to near extinction? Seems weird you’ve got one in a box as a pet,”

“It’s not a Jedi, and you won’t tell anyone. If I find you have, I will kill you, on sight,”

“You’ll be doing me a favour,” I spat.

I could tell he was angry, the way his hand waved over his blaster for just a second. I should have been scared of him, deep down I was. But the fate that awaited me at home was worse than being killed by this bounty hunter. I knew we can’t be far now. I didn’t have much time left to convince the Mandalorian not to send me back to my father. If it came down to it I really would rather die.

The Mandalorian disappeared up the ladder once more, satisfied that I wasn’t going to cause anymore fuss right now. Before I could even call after him to try and make amends and get him to actually help me, the hatch slammed shut and it was too late.

---

A few hours later, I had dozed off but was harshly awoke by the Mandalorian shaking my shoulders.

“We’re here,” He stated, pulling me up by the shoulder. I shrugged him off, and stood up on my own. My feet had been untied already, I rolled my ankles and sighed as my body clicked. The bounty hunter wasn’t having it, grabbed my arm harshly and dragged me down the ramp to the ground. “Come on,”

The site of my home planet made me sick. It was happening. For months I had managed to be unknown, successfully getting away from this place. But I was now being dragged back, by a Mandalorian none the less, to be dragged through my city like a criminal.

The Child reappeared as we stepped off the ship, babbling quickly and waddling as fast as it could. The Mandalorian grumbled unintelligibly and dragged me back up, collected the child and locked it away, pulled me back down to the soil of the planet. I could hear the creature complain from its little box and wondered if it was trying to help me. Whatever it wanted, the Mandalorian ignored it, closed the cargo door and we walked into the city gates to my family's palace.

The site of the grand building made me sick. When I was younger I didn’t know of anything different, I didn’t know of the suffering of the people beyond the city walls. The people who worked tirelessly everyday on the lush fields only to be paid single credits for the hard labour, and all the food going to my family and court. I never knew of the suffering and poverty that my father ruled over while we lived such lavish lives inside. I had tried to explain it to my brothers after my first escape attempt, they just laughed. Said that that was just the way the world worked. There was a set order. I hated it, actively spoke out against them but all it did was get me slapped and set away to my chambers.

We were met by my father and two brothers in the great hall. Staff stood to attention around the perimeter, glaring at me like I was dirt, as I was dragged in in disgrace by a bounty hunter.

“My daughter, you’re safe!” My father exclaimed, throwing his arms up in praise. There was no kindness or love in his voice. “Get her inside, we can’t have her escape again,” He gave a cold laugh as I was given to a new set of guards. My brothers jeered and laughed in unison with their idol. “I understand you’ve been paid by Asker to do this?” My father addressed the Mandalorian now. “Fucking idiot couldn’t catch his own breath. Here,” He threw a large bag of credits at the bounty hunter. “A million in full.” The Mandalorian nodded, putting the bag into his belt. “You don’t know how great a service you have provided to the galaxy,” My father continued with a wicked smile stretched across his wrinkling face. “A girl like her will surely be the mother of our new empire,”

I nearly threw up, the enormity of my situation now crashing on top of me. I tried to look to the Mandalorian for help but again it was no use. I was marched off into my new, secure, chambers to await my fate.

The Mandalorian frowned beneath his helmet but said nothing whilst in the presence of the King. He’d finished the job, there was nothing else for him to do here. He’d never got involved in politics before and now was not the time. He knew these were not good people but he was not in a place for judgement either.

He returned to his ship, pleased with the doubling of the earnings from this trip. That amount of credits meant he could lay low for a long while with the Child and finally work out what to do with it.

Back in the ship, the Child would not settle down. In the few months the Mandalorian had the creature he had never seen it like this. It cried and grumbled, wouldn’t sit still or fall asleep. He knew what the problem was.

“I can’t do anything about it!” He explained to the Child. “It’s not my problem. The credits I got from that job will keep you in food for weeks!” The Child grumbled and wailed. “Go to sleep,”

-- 4 Months Later --

It was a simple quarry for a quick bit of cash. The ship needed to be patched up after it had run into an asteroid field. The quarry was from a jealous man on Corellia after his wife’s lover. Easy.

The planet was rich and bustling with people, making the Mandalorian disappear into the background. He swept through the city in search of his bounty, following the tracker in his hand. He was only slowed down by a large crowd which had gathered at the town’s centre. A small stage was set up across the square, with many people surrounding it on all sides. People even hung out of their windows to listen and watch what was going on.

A familiar face on the stage caught the Mandalorian’s attention. It was Y/n. Now looking like the shell of her previous self. A black cloth covered her head and moth, leaving only sunken sad eyes on show which were covered in gold makeup. She stood smaller, next to a man talking passionately and animatedly about something. The surrounding chatter from the town’s people drowned out what the man was saying.

The Mandalorian carried on on his mission, shaking off any guilt he had. Bad things like this were always happening throughout the galaxy. There was nothing he could do.

- --

My new life as Vinca Dara’s wife was awful. Far worse than I had ever dreamt.

I was dragged from planet to planet, city to city trying to recruit and inspire rebellion. We travelled to the furthest reaches of the galaxy, as far from the New Republic as possible to try and gain sympathy for a new regime.

I was miserable, abused and exhausted. My husband’s forcible attempts at producing an heir were proving futile and he was getting restless. It was like my body even rejected the idea of giving him a child. I figured it was only long before he killed me. He’d been close before when I lost the last child.

This was a big event. There were already a large group of rebellion supporters on the planet and Vinca Dara and his team were hopeful. I was to stand next to him, looking pretty while he addressed the city, then be his arm candy to a private event with the planet’s leaders.

The evening’s event was filled with the planet’s most horrible people. I wore a tight royal blue dress, my hair down and flowing over my bare back. Vinca Dara had left me to my own devices a little while ago, instructing me to convince some of the ladies of ‘our’ new ideas for the galaxy. So I stood and mingled with the guests wive. They were not interested in politics and rather talked back local gossip which was rather refreshing after months of nothing but plans of death, destruction of the New Republic. A little alarming that they did not care, but I welcomed the break nonetheless.

As I listened to the women, my eyes wandered around the party. Many different species and races all in one room with staff waiting hand and foot, scurrying between the clusters of people. Then, something caught my eye. A flash of blue baskar, glinted in the light from the corridor just outside the room. That had to be the Mandalorian! I thought I had seen him in the city but I thought I was imagining it. He was here!

“Excuse me ladies, I just need to freshen up,” I excused myself from the group and went to find him. This was my chance. Summoning all the courage I had in me, I followed him.

It took a moment to work out which way he went but a sharp shot from inside one of the servants quarters told me exactly where it was. He was lucky the party was so loud, I thought.

Checking nobody was following me, I carefully pushed the door open As soon as I entered the small dark room the Mandalorian held his gun to my face, finger on the trigger ready. I threw up my hands and pushed myself back against the door.

“Don’t shoot!” I exclaimed. The Mandalorian did not lower his gun.

“What are you doing here?”

“I-I’m hosting the par-,”

“Here, I mean here right now,” He interrupted, obviously agitated.

“I need your help,” I said honestly. The Mandalorian didn’t reply, but lowered his gun and returned to the dead body on the floor. “Please. My husband will kill me if he doesn’t get a child soon and… and I can’t do it. Please, I need to get off this planet. Away from him,”

“I’m working,”

“I’ll pay you!” I exclaimed desperately. “I’ll give you everything I have. I just need to get out of here, out of this solar system,” The Mandalorian stopped and looked at me for a moment, the helmet completely unforgiving in guarding his expression. “Please,” My bottom lip began to tremble and tears welled in my eyes.

“No. Go back to your husband,” The Mandalorian turned back to his task. My desperation turned to anger in that moment, I stormed over to him.

“You know he’s been looking for the Child,” I said spitefully, looming over him as he knelt down with his victim. The Mandalorian looked up at me and stood up slowly. “That green thing you keep as a pet? If you won’t help meI will go to him and tell him you have it, that you’re on this planet,”

“Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“Help me and Dara will never know,” I said slowly, staring directly into his visor.

The Mandalorian was quiet for a moment, I held my breath. This was it. My last chance at freedom and even this was the man that brought me to be in this situation in the first place he was my only hope.

“Put that on,” He finally said, gesturing to the pile of servants' clothes piled on a table to the side of the room. “And help me move this body”

I nodded quickly and moved to the clothes. I untied the neck of the dress, the bounty hunter respectfully turned back to his victim as I undressed. The clothes were far too big and made of a very itchy material but I didn’t have much choice. I tied my hair up in a ponytail. The only reminder of who I was, was the gold makeup across my face and sandals on my feet.

I stood on look out while the Mandalorian pulled his bounty into a bag and dragged it out the building. A transporter waited outside.

“Take that one, with the bounty. My ship is out on the east fields. You’ll see it,”

“What about you?”

“I’ll meet you there,”

I nodded, unsure of why he was trusting me with his bounty but it was the easiest way to go out of the city unnoticed. I dodged in and out of people on the streets, finally coming to the East gates. Two guards sat asleep at the post and didn’t even wake to see me go. As I rode out into the open land, I began to laugh. The suns were setting beautifully over the horizon casting beautiful colours into the sky. I was free!

I sped through the fields, towards the familiar ship a little way away. The noise another transporter hummed behind me. I figured it was the Mandalorian so I didn't bother to look back until a red shot flew past my head, narrowly missing me, and exploding in the grass. I screamed and swerved violently, nearly losing all control of the vehicle.

I turned back quickly, to see who was attacking me. My husband led a band of four guards on smaller bikes. That bastard Mandalorian must have told them I was trying to escape!

I sped up, racing towards the hills in the distance. I skipped down between ditches and ploughed through crop fields to try and evade capture once again. They remained on my tail.

Another two shots fired out, missing me again. “Stop! Y/n! Stop right now!” My husband called out. I held my hand up in an offensive gesture, turning back to narrowly miss a large boulder. I was getting into the forest now, it was becoming more difficult to maneuver the heavy vehicle through the trees.

The trees became denser and I decided I could move better on foot without the extra weight.

“I’m going to fucking kill you Y/n!” My husband screamed. I could imagine his horrid sweaty red face, that awful vein that pops on his forehead when he’s angry. I shuddered, and kept running.

I jumped into a small creek, the water soaking the ends of my trousers and nearly bare feet. The hum of the transporters had disappeared, they were on foot. I noticed a cave and decided it would be best to hide there while they were some way behind. I crouched down and sat in the warm water, my body pressed against the back wall, hidden from sight.

“Y/n!” Vinca Dara screamed again. This time multiple shots followed and a crash as something fell into the water. “You can’t hide forever!”

They were getting closer. A red shot splashed into the water in front of the mouth of the cave. I jumped and hit my head on the low roof, making me yelp. I clamped my hand over my mouth praying that I wasn’t heard. I pushed myself further into the dark and shut my eyes as more shots rang out. Shouting erupted from above me and heavy footsteps splashed through the water.

I whimpered and curled up into my knees, screwing my eyes shut, waiting for the end to come.

“I told you to go to the ship,” A metallic voice said from the front of the cave. I opened my eyes and gasped in relief. It was the Mandalorian! I pushed myself up out of the water and walked over to him, my relief turning into rage.

“You sold me out!” I screamed, pushing him as hard as I could. “You fucking told them!” The bounty hunter remained calm, and was not at all affected by my attack.. “You fucking bastard!”

“If I did, why would I be here now?”

“You-,” I stopped and saw the three bodies floating in the water around us, “You killed them?”

“I thought you still had my bounty,” The Mandalorian said nonchalantly. I smiled.

“Thank you,”

Seemingly satisfied that I wasn’t in any more danger, the Mandalorian turned and began to walk back to his ship. I quickly followed behind, not wanting to be left behind again. I stepped over my husband’s dead body, pleased by the multiple shot wounds that had killed him. He deserved a bloody death. I ran to keep up with the Mandalorian, and jumped back on the abandoned transporter, following him back to the safety of his ship,

“Thank you again. And I promise I will send those credits to you as soon as possible,” I thanked him again once we were inside. I sat on a crate, and pulled the ruined sandals off my feet.

“It’s not necessary,” The Mandalorian said, his back turned to me as he put away his weapons.

“Yes it is. I am a woman of my word, I owe you my life,” I said sincerely. The Mandalorian shut the cabinet and turned back to me.

“Where would you like to go?”

“I don’t care. Just drop me off wherever you are going next. As long as there's opportunity for work and a place to sleep I will be fine. I just need to be as far from all of that as possible,”

“I’m going to Nevarro next,”

“Sounds perfect,”

I sat in the back of the cockpit while the Mandalorian flew off the planet. I couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face as the planet soon disappeared into the vast black of space behind us. I had finally made it out, with both my father and husband dead I knew no one would come looking for me. I was truly free.

“Hello again,” I cooed to the Child as he toddled over. The baby babbled and giggled when it recognised me and raised its arms to be picked up. I happily obliged. “You’ve grown! Yes! Oh aren’t you just the cutest little thing!” I tickled its large ears, making the child laugh. “I don’t know how you get anything done with this thing around. He’s so cute!” I said to the Mandalorian. He didn’t reply.

I shrugged it off, and went back to playing with the baby. The stress of the day finally settled in, and I yawned, absolutely exhausted. The little creature in my lap, copied and babbled at me. I smiled softly as sleep began to take over me and stroked its little head until I fell asleep.

A rumble awoke me, we had entered the Nevarro atmosphere. I sat up from my slumped position and sighed as I stretched. The Mandalorian turned around, I smiled and he turned back. The Child was sitting on the desk, playing with a silver ball too busy to notice I was now awake.

We landed without any trouble.

“So I guess this is it,” I said. “I will forever be indebted to you Mandalorian,” I bowed my head in reverence, “Are you staying here very long?”

“A few days possibly,” He said as we walked towards the small settlement. “I’ve got some business here,” We walked in silence for the rest of the way until we reached the gates. “There’s a cantina not too far from here, tell them I sent you and they’ll give you work. There’s plenty of rooms to stay in here,”

“Thank you,” I smiled, “I will sort those credits out as soon as possible,”

“It-,”

“I swear bounty hunters don’t usually refuse money,” I laughed. “Take it, and I’ll see you around, hopefully not too soon,”

“See you around,”

We shook hands and parted ways. My life had finally begun.

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