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hongism · 1 year

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DUNE. - p. seonghwa (m)

➼ genre; smut ➼ pairing; seonghwa x fem!reader ➼ au; outlaw/biker!seonghwa, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut, vaping mention ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 5.4k

Your excursions with Seonghwa are never anything holy despite how sacred the time shared between you feels at times.

part of the outlaw miniseries.

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➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, public sex (ie outdoors and on a motorcycle), oral: m, hair pulling, dirty talk, marking/biting, face fucking, deepthroating, slight edging, petnames: princess, kitten & doll, breeding kink, creampie, some religious imagery, slight objectification

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“You bastard.”

Dressed in nothing but a towel to keep you modest, you exit the bathroom in your far too small apartment expecting nothing but the simple task of getting your nightclothes from your bedroom. That, however, seems to be an impossibly tall order given what’s waiting for you in the living room. Sitting on your couch. With his stupid dirty boots all over your best piece of furniture in the house. So you can’t very well be blamed for your outburst upon seeing him, especially given the fact that he’s dared to show his face here and now like this.

The window adjacent to your couch is cracked as well, letting the evening air and likely every bug in the city into your home too.

“It’s been two months,” you snap before you can think through the lengthy list of things you’d like to rip into him about.

Seonghwa drops his head on the back of the couch and shifts to smile over at you, lopsided and dorky and all-around infuriating. Even more humiliating is the fact that you missed the sight of that grin, of him on your couch and in your home, and you dearly missed knowing when he would come back to you.

“And?”

“Did you use the fire escape to get in here again?” You thought that you had latched and locked the windows particularly well after you settled with the fact that Seonghwa wasn’t coming back. And yet here he is, and your windows are unlocked again. The man laughs, bringing his head off the couch and leaning forward in a way that makes his slicked-back black hair shift and fall around his face. This is a dangerously unwell situation for you to be in. Shutting your eyes, you turn towards your bedroom, hand tightening at the towel around your body. If you look at him a moment longer, you’re well and truly going to jump his bones. While that’s not the worst fate you could think of, you’d like to seem a little more upset at him before you give into both your desires and his.

You hear the couch creak then the soft scuffs of his boots over wood flooring as you pull clothes out of the dresser. He’s not in the doorway when you turn around, which does surprise you somewhat, but you take advantage of the brief moment of privacy to change into the tee and jeans you just pulled out. You toss your towel at the doorway once you’re safely under the comfort of clothes, and half of Seonghwa’s face peeks around the corner.

“You going somewhere?” He asks the question so innocently that you nearly think he’s changed in the past two months. Still, he’s leaning fully against the door frame now with one hand pressed high up along the wood and leaning over the edge into your bedroom, and the seduction is still there. His allure with all its perks and twists and all the ease he performs his enticement with are on full display before your eyes.

“Aren’t we?” you offer in response, too impatient to bother with playing your usual push-and-pull game with him.

“You still know me well, huh?” Now that you’re closer to him and can look at him head-on, you see the all too familiar jacket clinging to his broad shoulders, the tight tank top beneath it that shows off a hint of his muscled arms and chest. Seonghwa must see something across your expression that you aren’t consciously aware of because he hooks his index finger under your chin and lifts your head to look you in the eye. “You’re irresistible when you pout, kitten.”

A hand reaches up to cup the back of his neck, skating across the fabric of his shirt as you move upwards, and when you grab hold of him, he’s already leaning down to meet you on your path to his lips.

“I’m still mad at you, by the way,” you murmur before laying a kiss against him. Seonghwa laughs into your mouth as his tongue breaks the seam and finds yours. He tastes like the same stupid flavor of vape juice you remember, which means he hasn’t quit like he said he would last time you spoke, but he seems to have kept using your favorite flavor. “It’s past curfew.”

“No it’s not,” he denies quickly, and you pull off his mouth completely just so he can see how hard you roll your eyes at him.

“It’s past curfew.”

“Fifteen minutes outside the city—” a firmly planted kiss that keeps you from responding “—twenty tops, it’s fine. You can even drive if you want? You know how hot I find it seeing you on my bike.” Now that you’ve broken the seal, Seonghwa can’t seem to pull his lips away from yours for even a full sentence with the way he keeps rushing to lick into your mouth between every few words.

“If this—ah, hey!” He nips the corner of your mouth, grin cheeky at best when you squeeze the back of his neck hard. “If this is what we’re going to do then why not just stay here?”

“Because I have something to show you.” When suspicion starts to overcome your features, Seonghwa leans down and bumps his forehead against yours. “And we haven’t checked the bike’s sturdiness in over two months… what if my baby isn’t as sturdy as she used to be, huh? She’s not getting as much practice as she used to.”

“And I wonder whose fault that is.”

“Mine and no one else’s, princess.” He’s giving you that damn smile that makes you cave every time without fail — the upturned lip one that makes his laugh lines appear — and you groan purposefully loud like it’ll change the outcome of the night you’ve already handed yourself over to. Everyone close to you in your life would rush to call you a doormat for this man, and you can’t say that they’re horribly wrong on any front. Maybe if they knew exactly how good the dick and banter are they would cut you some slack though.

“Fine, you win.” You pull him into another open-mouthed kiss that lets you have another taste. “But you’re driving there, I’ll drive back.”

Seonghwa grins like he’s just won the lottery of life, hand snapping to brace yours against his chest as he guides you to the window where he made his grandiose entrance. There are many questions at the forefront of your mind admittedly, but you opt not to bring any of them up quite yet solely because you don’t want to cause any headaches this early on in the night. If he decides to turn tail and run upon being confronted then what? You’ll have wasted your night on this man for no reason and it’ll be totally unfulfilling for the both of you, so you imagine he wants to keep the mediocre peace as much as possible too. You have no trouble leaving the window unlocked now, mostly because Seonghwa is the only person who has dared to break in in your area of town, and he doesn’t do so with the intention of taking any of your belongings: just you and your poor fragile heart.

His motorcycle sits alone in the alleyway your fire escape leads down to, and you watch him pop the small box trunk attached to the back of it for a few seconds before realizing that you truly are what he came for. He pulls a helmet out — the same one he used to always make you wear that fits you just right and you used to be convinced that he bought it solely for you, but he denied it so heavily you gave up on that notion a long time ago. He never carries it around unless he knows he’s coming to you because he’s always claimed to need the space for “work” related things if you can even call it that given the rather illegal nature of what he does with this very bike. You don’t mind that part one bit; Night City has gone to shit anyway, and the government keeps finding new ways to impose absurd laws on all of you. If Seonghwa wants to mess with their new world order a bit and piss all over their business, then you’re all for it. You hope he and whoever he works with bring them down a few notches while they’re at it. But you do want him to be safe, and you want to know he’s okay and alive out there, and you don’t want months of radio silence that leaves you wondering if you did something to run him off or if he got captured by the guardians or worse—

“Hey.”

You inhale sharply. Seonghwa slides the helmet down over your head then braces his hands on either side of it to lay a kiss on where your forehead would be if not for the protection. Behind the visor, you shut your eyes and take a deep breath. When you open them again, Seonghwa is perched on the bike, pulling his own helmet on, and you admire the pretty slope of his nose mere seconds before it disappears.

Unspoken rule #1: you don’t ask about his little foray into anarchy.

“I don’t even believe in any god yet I pray for your safety every time you leave.”

He reached across the space between your bodies on the couch that night and squeezed your thigh.

“I’ll give you something to believe in.”

That night he buried his face between your thighs and ate you out like a man worshiping at the altar on the cold floor in front of your TV.

Tonight, you’re more than okay with that.

Seonghwa’s body is like a furnace when you wrap yourself around him. He’s warm and comfortable in the most familiar of ways, and you can still taste him on the inside of your lips. You smile despite yourself, clinging to him harder as the motorcycle lurches into action. Seonghwa never wastes time, though there’s an added layer of danger tonight with curfew, but you have it in good faith that the whole notion is just a little scare tactic to keep people in line. Even months ago there were no patrols or active guardians wandering the streets at night. Whatever drones do monitor from the sky don’t do anything except spook citizens.

In retrospect, you should have stolen Seonghwa’s jacket off his back or brought your own because the night air whips your shirt and leaves you cold. The man in front of you isn’t much of a meat shield against it either, yet the combination of your shivering and the ever-increasing speed of the bike makes adrenaline drop in your gut. You could chase this feeling for the rest of your life but still not be able to capture it unless it’s with Seonghwa, and as much as you hate to admit that sort of dependency, you also revel in the knowledge that he only gets it from you as well. Maybe you’re more religious than you thought with the exchanged reverence and devotion you two hold for one another. A sort of sacrality permeates every touch and breath between your lips. It reaches you in full when Seonghwa pulls the bike to a stop at what must be his chosen destination. He eases your helmet off first before ridding himself of his own. The moment his lips are within reach, you find them with your fingers and trace over the soft skin there like he himself is holy text to be studied and recited.

“Come,” he says with a hand stretched out towards you. Like a sheep following its shepherd, you sling your leg over the bike and come to stand beside him. He’s brought you to a hill, just beyond the outskirts of the city, but the spot where it overlooks showcases something as fascinating as it is beautiful. Beyond the fences surrounding Night City, there is a clearing of simple dirt yet it’s full of light and life. Crowds upon crowds of people occupy the space, though they look more like ants from where you’re perched, yet even in the distance you can see how they move about. Dancing. “That’s one of the only spots the people in this hellhole can still be free.”

“Are…” You clear your throat and glance at your companion briefly. “Is that where your coworkers are?”

“There are others, yes. Many of them. Our bike crew likes to show off some nights and do tricks around the lot when we know the government is gonna be busy with other problems. But for the most part, people go there to listen to music and dance and sing… to enjoy the things every rich prick is trying to take away from us.” Seonghwa sighs. He brings a hand to his hair and runs his fingers through the strands to the point of disarray. “It’s not an excuse, but this is why I’ve been away from you for so many weeks. Trying to get some solid plans in motion and all that. You knowing too much would just put you at risk, and that simply wouldn’t do, princess. I need you safe and sound. I can’t be the reason you get hurt or suffer, especially not at their hands.”

“But… you hurt me.”

“I thought it would be easier to disappear entirely than to come up with some lie as to why I couldn’t come around anymore.” He draws his arms up in a rather clear act of defensiveness but he turns to face you directly as he relays the information. “And I knew that the second I showed up at your door with a lie figured out, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. I guess everyone has a point in saying you’re my soft spot.”

One corner of your lips pulls up to form a crude smile, laugh exhaling out your nose in a rush of air. You reach for Seonghwa’s wrists.

“Cm’here.”

“What?” he complies nonetheless, matching your grin as you pull his arms away from his chest. His hands move around your body to tug you into his personal space like it’s just an extension of simple human movements, and you match the gentle affection with your own soft touches across his chest. Tracing upwards, you seek his jacket and secure your hands around the collar.

“Don’t lie and don’t hide from me again. If you can’t tell me, that’s fine. I’m okay with that. We can play house and do whatever when we’re together, then when the revolution comes knocking, we’ll deal with that too.” This is as close to I love you as you can go.

“Okay, princess. That’s a deal I’m gonna hold you to though.” Seonghwa leans against your body, and you let his weight sink down onto you with a quiet sigh. The lingering pass of silence lets you indulge in the feeling of him as he exhales heavily down your neck. He drifts lower until his lips ghost over the juncture of your neck, and the pressure in your chest increases tenfold with each feathering touch. When his teeth drag across your skin, you gasp out loud. Goosebumps rush across your body, a moan pulls from your lips, and Seonghwa sucks at your neck like he wants to pull the blood right out of you.

“H-Hwa.”

“Want you,” he murmurs. You have other things on your mind right now, however, and you doubt he’s going to be opposed to your suggestions so you tug yourself away from his wandering hands and tighten your grip on his jacket. His body is lax as you pull him around and lean him against the seat of his motorcycle. “Princess…” Seonghwa already looks to be in a daze when you sink to your knees between his legs, hands sliding across the firm muscles of his legs that are hidden beneath faux leather. His lips part in silent wonder, and his gaze follows yours with such intense focus that it feels like you’re the only two people on earth. You watch his mouth move but no noise comes out, no words, and whatever thoughts he’s having right now are lost on you because you can’t read his lips. It doesn’t deter you from your current goal — you have his zipper caught between your fingers already, and his button comes undone just as easily.

His shame knows no bounds, apparently, because you peel back his pants to bare skin with nothing between.

“You been thinking about me all day?” you tease, teeth toying with your lower lip as you flutter your lashes at him on purpose, but he sweeps you away with his hasty and breathless response.

“All day. All week. Every day since the last time I saw you.” A hopeless romantic, after all. You work his pants down his hips just enough to pull his half-hard length out, putting your lips around him without wasting any more time than you have to. Seonghwa moans from the first touch as your wet heat surrounds his cock and buries all the way in your throat. You take him in until he nudges the back of your throat and threatens to make you choke. Similar to how he laid between your legs and worshiped at your alter, you do the same now — on your knees for him with hands clasped around the base of his cock, you blink up at his strained face with glistening eyes and a prayer on your lips.

Seonghwa brings a shaky hand to the back of your head, but he finds his confidence the moment he grabs hold of your hair and guides your mouth to take his dick deeper. His tip pushes into your throat, and you’re quick to adjust your breathing, focus snapping away from his face so that you can steady your breath and bring air into your lungs. Wetness touches your lashes as your eyes fall closed. You tap his crotch twice, and he understands the signal immediately. It’s hard to believe two months have passed when you fall back into usual and familiar routines with such ease. Seonghwa tightens his hold on your hair, burying his fingers closer to your scalp, and air whistles through his teeth. He pulls out of your mouth suddenly, until the head of his cock lays heavy against your lips. You missed the taste of him desperately, even more so in this filthy and hedonistic way, but that realization quickly turns into an afterthought as you suck at his tip.

“Fuck, doll, missed using you like this,” Seonghwa groans above you, and you respond by swiping your tongue along the bit of his cock that he lets you touch. “You always let me fill your pretty little mouth so well. Could use you like a toy forever, fuck.”

“Then do it.” You grin against his cock head, chin tilting down so that you can press a kiss to the same spot. The noise that tears from Seonghwa is close to animalistic as he jerks his hips towards your mouth. You’re forced to drop your jaw as quickly as you can but it doesn’t fully keep your teeth from snagging at his skin, though that seems to do nothing but drive Seonghwa further into insanity as he thrusts hard into your mouth.

“Shit, my little doll, look at you.” You force your eyes open against better judgment just to look at Seonghwa’s face. He coos, free hand reaching around to cup your face, and he swipes his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “Such a messy doll you are, tears and spit all over that pretty face.” You gag, only for it to turn into a sob as he fucks your mouth like it's just another hole to use. “I’ll grant you your veneration, princess, if only you give me my absolution.” He still treats you as though you’re something holy after all this time too, it seems. His balls knock against your chin with each one of his thrusts, until you grow totally accustomed to the rhythm. You had been certain that he would stop before coming undone, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem keen on stopping any time soon with the way he’s enjoying your mouth, wet and warm around his dick. You want to drive him to completion now — the cotton fuzz in your brain that’s starting to block all thoughts outside of him and your arousal demands more, and you crave the feeling of his cock twitching on your tongue. You wish to taste his seed on the back of your tongue, to watch his legs tremble and buckle under his pleasure at your hands.

You hum around the weight on your tongue, and Seonghwa lets his hand go loose on your hair, swinging it back to catch on the seat of his bike so he can steady himself better. He hands over control to you in the same moment and gives you the blessed initiative that makes you splay your hands across his hips and brace yourself over his length as you take some time to catch your breath. It makes you acutely aware of your wrecked state too because you can feel the moisture all over your face, both from tears and the trails of saliva that Seonghwa caused. He leans back and pushes the bike further against its side-stand; not to the point of immediate concern but he is testing that sturdiness as he claimed he wished to earlier. You lick along the underside of Seonghwa’s cock, relishing in the way he twitches against your tongue.

“Are you close?” you ask. You aren’t expecting how horribly wrecked your voice is or how it sounds like you’ve chewed and tried to swallow gravel actually. Seonghwa makes no comment on it himself and instead just nods several times over as he gulps down greedy breaths of air. “Do you wanna cum in my mouth?”

“Jesus, princess, how can you just — say that with a straight face like that, christ.” Seonghwa brushes hair away from your forehead, pulling it back to be out of the way.

“You can keep going, right?” Your fingers curl around the base of his dick just to squeeze him a little bit to tease and stimulate him some more. “You’ll still be able to fuck me if you cum once, won’t you?”

“Baby—”

“Or can you still not finish without breeding me?” Seonghwa’s whole body reacts to your statement, and you hear the audible choke that overtakes him when you flatten your palm on his cock and press it against his stomach. His fingers extend while trembling then he draws them back into fists so tight his knuckles bleed white. You drive the heel of your hand further into his length, coming up halfway to let your fingers curl up over his tip. Taking precum onto your fingertips, you pull the same digits into your mouth and lick them clean, eyes glinting as you watch Seonghwa’s lips part in either want or wonder.

His mouth stays agape even after you stand up and press your body firmly on his. Your nipples clearly show through your top, bra forgone in your rush to get dressed when you saw him, and Seonghwa lets his hands wander up to pinch at them through the thin cotton.

“I take that as a no,” you whisper close to his mouth, letting your breath huff out across his lips. He moves against you with more force now and takes your lips with his own. You’re distracted despite the kiss on account of your hands being busy with your pants and unable to maintain contact without having to pull away to separate your shoes and pants from your body entirely. Seonghwa wraps an arm around your waist to bring you back to him, already attaching himself to your neck and nipping at the mark he left not long ago. “H-How?”

“Ride me—” he twists at the waist “—on the bike.” You’re taken aback by the request, but it also shouldn’t come as much of a surprise given the long list of delightful positions Seonghwa’s taken you in previously. Still, when he pats the back of the seat and slings his own leg over the body, you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to manage this at all. Over the back of the bike? Sure, you’ve done that many times. He’s bent you over the handles several times too, but never like this — with his back to the handlebars and you crawling up to his lap in what feels like a rather precarious position. “I’ve got you, kitten, come on.” Securing a hand on his shoulder, you let Seonghwa hoist you up over his spread legs, fingernails digging into your ass as he brings you down to his lap. You reach down to grab hold of his cock and guide him to your pussy. Normally, you’d love to have some sort of prep, especially with his dick and its size, but that’s far from your concern right now. You’ll regret it tomorrow when you’re sore and aching; by then, you’ll have him in your bed, looking after you and taking care of you, and you can make that his problem to sort out. Right now, you want him inside you and filling you up with a burn and a sting to remember him by.

Seonghwa takes great care to ease you down his length, hands holding you steady and firm. You hiss at the stretch of your walls around him.

“Feet on the rests, kitten, I’ve got you.” You hear the words and react accordingly, but your mind is elsewhere — focused on relaxing as best you can to accommodate his size. When he bottoms out at last, you lean your forehead against his, and he drags his hands up from your ass to massage along your lower back. “Don’t hold onto me, okay? Grab the handlebars.” Your firm glare is hard to miss, especially with your proximity to one another, but it just makes Seonghwa laugh into your cheek. “I’ll keep the bike steady no problem. Gotta put my long legs to use somehow, right?”

“Can’t believe you’re making me do all the work when you were the asshat who disappeared for two months!”

“It’s not too late for me to fuck you face first into the ground, doll, if that’s what you’re wanting,” Seonghwa purrs against the corner of your lips, and you reply with a cheeky kiss that involves you biting the tip of his tongue gently when he tries to explore your mouth.

“Don’t get too excited, baby. It’s my treat tonight.” You feel him twitch inside you as you reach around his body to grab for the handlebars, and the motion forces you to pull up from his cock a bit. He’s watching you with rapt focus, the same unholy expression as before paints his features again now, and it’s borderline intoxicating to see him unravel as you drop back down on his length. The noises of passion between you are reduced to exchanged moans and heavy breaths. For a man who always has something dirty to say, if only to rile you up further, he’s fallen to a mess of stuttered groans and pants that make you bounce on his cock faster and faster.

“Do I feel as — as good as y-you remember?” you ask through the sounds of skin slapping skin. Seonghwa’s whole face contorts and he throws his head back, unable to keep his hands to himself any longer. He scrambles to grab at your waist.

“Even better, s-so much fucking better.”

You tilt your chin towards the sky and laugh through a choppy moan. It’s then that Seonghwa catches you off guard: he eases you back along the seat of the motorcycle, forcing your hands to release the handles and laying you along the length of the seat. It’s not quite long enough to accommodate the position he’s going for, but you understand better when he pulls you down to meet his cock. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust further, driving his cock into you with a rabid passion that fills your stomach with fire and desire. Your dangling feet move to brace against the handlebar, and you plant them firmly against the flat of your foot just as Seonghwa pulls you down some more. Either you can’t control your noises as well like this or he’s simply fucking you better than ever because every thrust knocks a whiny moan out of you. There’s nothing for you to grab onto like this either — not above or around your head at least — so you have to settle for reaching down between your legs and bracing your hands on Seonghwa’s forearms.

“D-Dear fucking god, Hwa,” you whine.

“Touch yourself, touch yourself now, doll, I’m gonna cum soon.” You think you’re just as close yourself, to the point where a minute touch might make you cum embarrassingly quick, but you do as told, moving one of your hands down to roll firm circles around your clit in time with his thrusts. You don’t really have to move at all because his movements are doing the work for you. So when the climbing sensation of an impending orgasm starts to overwhelm you, you bring your fingers to a halt and let them press into your clit instead, where Seonghwa’s thrusts can jerk your hand against yourself in a crude form of masturbation.

“P-Please hurry, cum quick please, I’m about to—” your thoughts come to a grinding halt. Your mind goes blank, turning to an empty canvas, then the pleasure explodes and the orgasm shakes your entire body. Your toes curl around the handles in the same way that your back curls away from the seat.

“Inside? Do you want me to cum inside or — fuck, not? In or out?” Seonghwa’s voice is wound so tight that it sounds painful to the ears. You fist the sleeve of his jacket.

“Breed me? In, in, in, please breed me, Hwa.” He doesn’t need more instruction than that. A groan rips through him in time with his finish, and the sensation of his cock releasing hot spurts of cum makes you shiver. He leans back, your legs fall away from the handles, and the afterglow of your sex feels warm and heady. Hands are on your bare thighs, fingers rub deep into your muscles and work against the lingering tremble in them, and the air turns into a song of both your breathing. The whole atmosphere around you two feels sacred once more. You don’t want a single thing to disturb this carefully found peace, not even for a second. Folding your fingers around Seonghwa’s wrist, you use him as leverage to pull yourself up to a sitting position across from him.

All it takes is one quick beckoning motion for him to fall against your lips, granting you the kiss you’re after and securing you in his hold at the same time.

Seonghwa rights himself but keeps a hand firm on your hip as he climbs off the bike, only letting his touch fall away once he’s certain you’re steady and safe on your perch. You watch him tuck his softened dick back into his pants without exchanging words. You’re dazed yet exceptionally and thoroughly satisfied, and that feeling persists for some time. You don’t opt to speak until Seonghwa is bent over and grabbing your pants from the ground.

“Will you stay with me when we get back home?”

Seonghwa jerks his head in your direction. His dark eyes are wide, and you can see the contemplation cross his features even in the low light.

“Yeah, I think I will this time.”

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#seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #seonghwa imagine #seonghwa imagines #caly.writes

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liveyun · 6 months

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 ; KSJ

title. white sand

pairing. kim seokjin x female oc/reader

genre. angst, exes au

warnings. mentions of broken marriage, arguments, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, missing communication in a relationship ; divorce ; non descriptive smut, allusions to miscarriage ; surprise ending?

wc. 3.3k+

listen to : playlist

masterlist | taglist

The sky is gloomy today.

Do you want to turn a river in its bed,

Or plant a barren wilderness with wheat?

Warm water ripples underneath your feet, giving you a feeling of you being still alive. That certain feeling of your stomach churning never leaves you, as you inhale a deep breath. This wasn't new to you, at least you knowing that wasn't. Your heart throbbing with pain each time whenever you see colors swirling around your life, but not you. Everything felt blank, everyday was an endless loop.

Your thoughts never ran twice before committing anything, resulting in indiscretion.

You didn't know why you'd visit the beach once in the year when the water felt bizzare to your skin; but at least this feeling of your feet sinking in the soft wet sand, the feeling of the cold breeze soothing your skin calms down your racing thoughts.

If you can meet with triumph and failure

And treat those two impostors just the same

Triumph. You weren't sure of when you met triumph, but failure, for sure was met by you. Failure is the secret ingredient to your success, they say, but when you actually fail, there aren't many who still stand by their quote.

The bubbling pot of jealousy inside, being compared to others, despised, accused of being a traitor, these all were some things which you craved to forget, but some things can't be just forgotten, can they really be?

If you can bear to hear the truth they've spoken

That you stepped right in trap for fools. But when?

They get buried inside your own self, in one such deep crests inside your heart that when even a glance is spared over, your whole self falls into an endless slumber of contriteness. Was it fair to lead on in this way? Pity for others, harassment for your own self. The truth is factual, you have heard it by your own self, and you are ready to accept it all. It itself might hurt but all these things, at least have an honesty within that you haven't been through unfair means to provide you a bittersweet nostalgia.

They say that success and failures are like the two faces of a coin. They're both an outcome of luck with a probable chance of 50-50 for each. Hard work does not always bring success, no matter how hard you put in your efforts.

But they also say that to keep a drowning relationship afloat, you have to put in effort.

It hit you hard when you’d realized that the risk of risking it all can also mean losing everything you've ever had in your life.

It hits you even harder when you remember how the decade old moon pendant still rests peacefully between your clavicles, against the resonating of your heart. You'd wanted to throw that away in the vast ocean, wanting the hues of the blues carry your pain, the memories to a place far, far away from you.

But you never had the heart to part away with something so close to your heart.

It's the seventh year you're seeing the imprints of your feet on the dunes of the damp sand on the same day, every year.

It's the seventh year you're walking alone on the beach with no sounds of squeaky giggles tingling your ears.

You wonder if the pendant still holds the tiny pieces of paper between its leaves which have both of your initials imprinted, or it's faded away like your footprints on the sand with each wave hitting the coast. Like how the castles you'd build together did.

4th December.

Your heart beats like crazy within your ribcage when your fingers feel the gentle surface of the white pendant, a relic which once was the reason for your smile blooming like lilies in a pond. But now, it only reminds you of your failure— your failure to keep your relationship afloat. Of your broken connection.

It's the seventh year you're reminded once again that it's truly over.

It's the seventh year you've realized that you're no longer together with your childhood friend whom you'd married.

It's the seventh year you've realized that maybe you've died. Maybe a part of you has, because till death do us part did not do any justice to you. To your best friend, your husband— ex husband.

It's the seventh year you're living without him, as many would say that you're doing completely fine, maybe only you know that a part of you never has ever stopped yearning.

Never stopped loving him.

You take off the pendant from your neck, gently unfolding the metallic celestial halves. The white paper in both of the tiny compartments unveiled bold, black scrawls with tiny hearts surrounding them.

KSJ ♡ YN

You feel the pain right in your chest, spiraling up your lungs to down your stomach till you could no longer breathe properly.

It's not a vague memory in your mind the day he gifted you the pendant. The event replays in your head like it's yesterday, when you were both young adults with warmth glowing in your faces, in your hearts, surrounding each other with the blanket of love. You still remember how young he looked with flushed cheeks and eyes twinkling under the moonlight, half squeaking, half laughing at some lame joke. His warm, big hand enveloped yours as you two walked to the waves in this same beach, feet sinking to the white sand glowing in the night.

You still remember how Seokjin had made a note of how warm the water was in comparison to the weather, and you'd make a note of how the tips of his ears were a shade of crimson.

You still remember when he had handed you the pendant, smiling so brightly, saying that he's forever grateful to the moon for blessing him, and you still remember the freshness of his breath as his lips touched yours for the first time ever.

You still remember how scared you two were. Having discovered your love for eachother after pining like idiots, you knew you had a lot of talking to do. You still remember how hot his lips felt on your skin, promising you words of affirmation that you both got this.

You still remember how delicate he was at that night of your first time together, how gently he made love to you, and how he coaxed releases after releases from you, gently kissing your heated flesh with each stroke to your skin. How he'd turned to mush after you'd touched him back with the same passion, with the same desire.

You still remember his teary face when you'd met him at the altar, when you'd exchanged your vows of eternal love and fidelity. You still remember how different the kiss you'd both shared felt to be, almost like a seal to your newfound journey.

You still remember how happy you two were. You two had promised that you'd got this together.

You feel your eyes stinging with tears amidst the bitter smile that hangs loosely on your lips, because you still remember the first time when things got hard. Really hard. You still remember the shaking of his dark pupils like an autumn leaf hanging on the tree, quivering with guilt suppressed anger when he saw you flinch. He had yelled at you, for the first time ever. He stroked your back with flurries of apologies as he kissed you to sleep that day.

You remember how any squabbles were silenced without any communication gradually and how any quarrel would be slept on without any apologies from either of you.

Despite the slowly forming gap between you two, he'd still make sure to have prepared breakfast for you when you'd wake up late. How he'd still prepare the vase every two days with your favorite flowers. How he'd pull you closer to his broad chest, lulling you to sleep, or occasionally telling you about his days.

You still remember how slowly the arguments turned to sleepless nights with a fidgeting heart and a choking stomach. How everything was so gradual that it took you time to realize that it was happening, and you'd taken it for granted.

How the loud voices of you both threatened to blow off the ceiling, and how your eyes hurt after crying yourself to sleep. How dark the bags under his eyes seemed every morning. How scared you were when you realized that he was no longer behind you, let alone stroking your back when you were bawling your eyes out as he used to do earlier.

How you'd wake up to an empty side of your bed, how your texts went unanswered most of the time. How every day after work you'd return to an empty home, flowers withered and dead on vases and everything picking up layers of dust.

How you'd fall asleep with untouched food on the table when he'd return back to home late from work. How you'd no longer smell the piping hot food everyday when you'd woken up. You would wake up to the same, empty place, knowing that he had been there, but he left without even sparing a glance.

You'd also miss how Seokjin would return to home with a throbbing guilt in his heart, never putting off the blame in his heart which accused him for everything which has been happening in your marriage.

How his heart would shatter to pieces each time after a quarrel, realizing the situation. How heartbreaking your sobs were behind the closed rooms or the running showers.

But he'd never got to apologize, because a part of him wanted that to come from you too. He'd wonder at times if you thought the same.

You still remember the lone happiness which bloomed inside you after so long when you'd seen two lines on the pregnancy stick after days of throwing up in the morning. How you'd thought that maybe, maybe this could fix everything between you two. Everything which you weren't ready for, but were thrown onto. Everything which you didn't know existed between you two, but was clearly visible day after day. You were positive that it definitely would.

How fucking selfish of you.

You still remember his absence and his ignorance when you were so excited to let him know about the happy news. You still remember the piercing fight which took place when he returned from his three month long business trip. You vaguely remember how you'd cry for him at nights to hold you, trashing beside the empty bed, how you'd throw up and clutch yourself to sleep. How the doctor had already warned you of your difficult pregnancy and to avoid mental stress as much as you can.

You vaguely remember how he'd asked you why do you look so pale. You barely remember the panic, the pain when the conversation flowed to another fight, now you yelling at him. He'd screamed at you that you were a burden to him.

You faintly remember the agonizing pain at your lower abdomen, strong enough to blur your vision and strangle you down to the ground where he'd cried your name as you fell down, and everything had blacked out.

But you actually remember the look on the doctor's face when she told it out loud.

And even clearer, the look on Seokjin’s face.

You don't really want to remember everything else which happened after that. Your friends had taken you home, away from him, suggesting that it's for the best. Some of them had already warned you beforehand when things had started to fall gradually and they emphasized their surmise of the situation.

You don't want to remember anything else which happened after that. You don't want to remember how you'd know that his company had gone completely bankrupt, and how he'd tried his best to save it.

You don't want to remember the time when you'd sent him the divorce papers and the look on his face, ignoring his thin frame, dark bags underneath his eyes which seemed devoid of any light in them, at all.

You don't want to remember all the times he came back to you, called you, texted you endlessly and begged forgiveness for everything he'd done to you but not even once to come back to him.

Maybe he knew already that you wouldn't.

You don't want to remember the time when you'd gone to your once shared apartment to get back your stuff. It felt. . .empty and devoid of any life, your once warm home staring at your face with a cold air around it, partially suffocating you from all the memories you'd created together. Whether they were the happy ones, or the terrible ones.

You'd purposefully ignored the vase of fresh flowers greeting you or all the furniture being spotlessly free of any dust. You'd ignored how your heartstring tugged at you when you'd see that his clothes are still with your own in the closet and how the bed was changed into the bedsheets which you'd bought at the beginning of your honeymoon.

But you couldn't refrain yourself from stepping into his study. Maybe it was because you were sure that you wouldn't be seeing him anymore, and the court would be the last place and time when you'd see him. Maybe because there was a part inside of you which wanted you to hang on for him. Hang on for you, but you'd ignored that, suppressing the voice inside you.

You absolutely don't want to remember whatever you'd seen there anymore. Whether it was the unfinished yarn you'd knitted to a poorly made mass during those three months knitted to an almost finished sweater, or the photos of you both framed on the shelves where you'd previously seen trophies of his youth camping on.

From small kids grinning ear to ear to adolescent teens with awkward poses to full grown adults and your last photo you'd taken together at Ilsan a year ago then as a couple. Each of them rested one beside another and other memories which were caught in small handicrafts you'd thrifted during your small visits to nearby towns in your early teens.

Because that only makes you fall into the endless pit of guilt, again and again, realizing that you'd never heard his part of the story. Your initial anger had always refrained you from thinking that way, but you'd know that despite everything, every effort you two had put into your marriage, had been in vain. You remember how pale, dull, thin and silent he'd seemed at the day of your divorce. He'd just a thin jacket on his frame regardless of the freezing cold outside with heavy bags underneath his eyes. He'd acknowledged your presence with a slow, long stare of his dim, puffy eyes, a small single nod of his head. You'd ignored how much it hurt to see Seokjin like that, but you'd instead decided to move forward, no matter how painful it was.

You remember the silence from his side when the judge had asked him questions about the reasons why your marriage broke down to pieces. You'd held your breath in your chest which already hurt with the constant throbbing.

He'd answered with a voice that you couldn't recognise from the person you'd known for more than half of your life.

“I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most.”

The judge had asked again, why'd he give up. If he knows, shouldn't he be trying to make it up to you? His answer, perhaps, had shocked the judge, too.

“Once a knot gets tied between a thread, the knot forever remains, no matter how much you try to untangle it.”

The actual last time you saw Seokjin was after you two were divorced, sitting beside each other, having signed on the papers which officially meant that you two no longer were married to each other. Your heart felt numb with the pain and your eyes were devoid of any moisture, having exhausted them all within the painful months you'd spent alone with the memories haunting you.

You hadn't looked up at him, and you knew he didn't, too, and you didn't want to. You'd seen his fingers twitch on the paper where he held his pen, close to yours own, but made no further move. You'd itched to say something to him which you didn't know if you should've, but you'd kept quiet all the while.

You'd heard his tiny please forgive me,if you can the last time before you exited the court, but also from the place where you'd relished your memories, a souvenir to your old love.

You close the pendant with a snap.

It's the same day you divorced your ex husband.

4th December.

It's his thirty-first birthday, too.

As the waves crawl gently towards the white sand of the coast, you exhale in the breath you were holding in. You run your thumb on the craters like designs on the outside of the golden pendant, silently feeling the burden inside your chest now being a bit lighter.

You don't know if you've truly moved on, but the bitterness in the memories doesn't really feel bitter to you. At times they overwhelm you, but it's not intense.

You wonder if Seokjin is doing well.

We were taken from the ore-bed

And melted in the furnace pit—

We were cast and hammered to design,

We were cut and filed to fit.

You don't like nostalgia, but sometimes it reminds you that failure and struggle are the components who develop your character. If anything, it reminds you that mistakes were made and consequences were beared, but it also leaves you with a tingling curiosity inside. Is Seokjin living in the same city? Is he..is he celebrating his birthday today?

Birthdays for him were fun. Birthdays with him were fun.

You don't know. You guess it wasn't really within your imagination to imagine what it would be like for him. You just hope and wish he's doing okay. You hope he has healed well, or is healing well.

You stand up, your pendant still clutched in between your palms, no longer feeling the weight it carried for you, from you throughout the years of your life.

The weather begins to get chillier as the sun slowly makes its way away from the face of the world.

The low rustle of the waves and the slow whoosh of the wind tells you that it's time to leave.

Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding on, you turn to exit the beach. A simple smile spreads on your lips when you suddenly feel the pendant slip away from your slightly sweaty palms to the sand underneath.

You bend down to pick it up, and your hands brush against another hand which doesn't belong to you.

A warm one, and an oddly familiar,big one.

A pair of warm, curious pupils, twinkling within the dark pools of coffee hidden underneath tresses of dark hair greets you.

You look up.

“Seokjin?”

His eyes are wide and shaking slightly by the time you both stand up, your hands dangerously close to his which clasps the pendant within. He looks healthier, fuller and he's gained some much needed weight over the years. He's dressed in a white tee and black shorts, and you notice that he's let his hair grow. His cheeks have a flush which you'd notice was new to you. If anything, he looked handsomely young, as if he'd aged back.

Walk down the white sand just to watch his lonely footprints get washed away by the currents. He's trying not to fall back to the habits which tore himself away from him, but he's never been truly free from the guilt which pokes his chest in every aspect of his life.

When he saw you seated on the edge of the coast when he was out to visit the beach that meant the most to him, he couldn't believe his eyes. Every year on his birthday he'd visit the beach in the evening with a selfish hope in his heart, which he knew wasn't rational at any cost.

He used to sit on the coast the whole night, feeling the moon soothe away the burning memories of you. Hoping he'd ever find you, but always in vain. Hoping he could apologize for everything he's done except uttering a small sorry like a fucking coward.

The beach would always remind him of you.

Your hair is shorter than how he saw it the last time. Your cheeks are fuller, and your eyes have their light returned back to their places. You sat there in the same silence which he did at a distance, refusing the rational part of him which told him that it's wrong. He'd promised himself that he'd go away before you'd get up, and you seemed lost in thoughts as he took you in. Even if you two weren't together anymore, he was happy. Genuinely happy to see you okay. After everything you'd gone through. He knew, he was by no means rightful to ever look at you even, because he knew ever since then that you don't need him anymore.

Even if he tried, he could never stop loving you. Trying to be a better man everyday, wishing he could stop time and go back, knowing it's impossible. Everyday he'd wished he could. . . .

Now you're looking at him, and he doesn't know what to say. How to talk. You looked peaceful. You looked happy. You—

But when he'd seen the pendant he'd thought you wouldn't have it with you anymore, he lost it.

“Seokjin?” Fuck. This is the second time you've called him, but he doesn't find the crease in between your eyebrows as he'd expected to. You're rather smiling, a sight which he finds his heart racing miles at.

You don't wait for his response.

“Happy birthday.”

a/n : happy birthday to our silly moon prince~ hope you liked this one which i actually managed to finish in the brink of time ong

don't be sad, he's coming back soon home! :D as always, reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated 🌙🌹

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dilf-din · 10 months

Text

Yeehawgust Day 12: Cowboys Are Frequently Secretly Fond of Each Other

The Mandalorian (Western AU)

WC: 1050

Rating: T

Characters: Din Djarin and Cobb Vanth

Warnings: light descriptions of injuries, made up cowboy lore, fluff out the wazoo

A/N: I’m afraid I might never be able to write anything other than gay cowboys now, sorry mom

Cobb slapped the last calf on the rear as it trampled into the pen then swung the gate shut with the toe of his boot. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and let out a breath of relief for the sun sinking on the horizon. They had made it though another day. Almost lost a good number of the herd earlier, would’ve if it hadn’t been for Din’s sharpshooting. Cobb took a long draw from his canteen then poured the rest into the dish at the base of the pen for the dogs to lap up.

Din was on the other side of the fence gathering wood for a fire while Mayfeld and Dune tended to the horses. It wasn’t before long that the four of them were stretched out in front of the fire while the rabbits they caught earlier roasted over the flames, fat dripping down and sizzling when it hit the embers. The group didn’t exchange many words while they ate. The dusty wind had dried out their throats even with bandanas and scarves tied up to keep the sand out. Every few words led to a coughing fit, so silence it was.

“I’ll take first watch, y’all get some sleep,” Cobb said, gesturing at the others with his head in the direction of the bed rolls that had been set up near the horses.

Cara nodded, and with a quick, “Night,” had pushed up off the ground and away from the three men. Mayfeld followed close behind with a nod at Cobb.

Din stayed stationary, his back up against a fence post. His black bandana still hung over his nose and mouth leaving only the glint of his deep brown eyes reflecting the soft flames and a peek of dark hair curling around the base of his neck. Cobb had never seen his face, no one had. It wasn’t something someone in his line of work was able to risk. A mercenary who took jobs wherever he could find them, wanted and employed by both sides. He was known for his skill and lack of attachment, a legendary killing machine of sorts.

Cobb was leaning against a log directly across the fire from Din. His hat sat next to him letting his hair shine silver in the moonlight. She wasn’t quite full tonight, two or three days though and the whole valley would be flooded in her glow. There were never any clouds to block out the heavenly lights in this part of the desert, no high peaks or mountains competing with the flat horizon.

“You can go on ahead and rest,” he repeated himself, tilting his head to catch the man’s eye.

“Not after today. We’ll need two people on watch,” Din said plainly, wincing as he readjusted.

“You’re hurt,” Cobb said clambering to his feet.

“It’s nothing.”

Cobb was by his side in an instant, turning back the corner of his vest to see his blood soaked shirt plastered to his side. He peeled up the hem to get a better look and find what appeared to be a knife wound, about 4 inches long and not very deep.

“It didn’t hit anything, just grazed me,” Din said softly as he watched the man’s hands working in the amber glow of the firelight.

“At least let me clean it,” Cobb said, more of a statement than a question.

Din nodded in consent as Cobb rose to get a clean rag and a flask of gin. He poured the clear liquid over the crisp white cloth and slowly drug it across the split skin. Din’s jaw tensed at the sting, but he stayed perfectly still.

“Should be good as new in the morning. Might wanna put a fresh shirt on though,” he suggested, wringing the rag out into the red earth.

Din nodded and stepped to the far side of the pen with his pack. Cobb took the time to stoke the fire and throw the bones from their meal to the dogs. He glanced over his shoulder to see Din’s bare back. He had several long scars that reflected the white of the moon like rivers carving through the valleys of his taut shoulders. His hat was off, and he had emptied the rest of a canteen of water into his hair, running his hands through the curls, trying to shake some of the sweat and grime out. Cobb looked away, feeling as if his gaze had lingered too long already.

When Din rejoined him, he crouched in the dirt next to him instead of returning to his original spot across the way. Cobb shifted slightly, nervous from the sudden proximity.

“Thank you.”

Cobb shrugged and cocked his head to look at him straight on.

“Ain’t nothing you wouldn’t have done for me.”

Din nodded once as if in agreeance. The pair sat in silence for a while. The air was filled with the soft sound of the cows shifting and lowing, the dull thud of their bells clanking. Din had his right knee up with one arm wrapped around it. The other hand sat in the dirt, pinky outstretched just barely a centimeter from Cobb’s.

“You know,” Din started, “I’m not really used to people getting close, physically or, otherwise, but I don’t mind it with you. It’s nice to feel like someone’s looking out.”

Cobb smiled into the dirt, hoping the low light would disguise the flush in his cheeks.

“You know why I asked you to come?”

“I can assume the same reasons everyone hires me.”

“Well, you are useful, but, mostly, I just like having you around,” Cobb smiled, this time meeting his gaze. In the dirt below them, their hands butted up against each other until Cobb’s was on top, lightly lacing his fingers through the open spaces of Din’s. Din let go of a breath he had been holding for most of his life, muscles instantly relaxing into the touch.

“We would’ve been toast out there without you today,” Cobb mused, running his thumb over the rough skin of Din’s hand.

“Trust me, I know,” he deadpanned.

Cobb laughed quietly, and though he couldn’t see it, beneath Din’s handkerchief, his mouth had turned up into a smile at the sound.

#yeehawgust 2023 #yeehawgust #cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other #dincobb #marshmando #din djarin #cobb vanth #the mandalorian fic #dincobb fic

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e-lisard · 11 months

Text

Sand everywhere

Characters: Cyno, Shimura Kyomi, Paimon, Isak, Dehya, Alhaitham

Story: Kyomi in Genshin AU

TW: none

WC: 294

"Wait," Cyno suddenly commands, coming to a stop. "Where's Kyomi?"

The question makes everyone stop in their tracks better than the command, looking around for their missing member.

She's not missing for very long, though, as she comes trudging up the sand dune soon enough, covered in sand. "I slipped." Is her explanation as Isak tries to stifle laughter.

"You... Slipped." Cyno doesn't sound very impressed, and Kyomi grimaces.

"Everything's loose, here, and I am blind. Not the best combination."

"You should've told Paimon! Paimon could have kept watch for you!"

"Never mind that, are you alright?" Dehya swipes some of the sand off Kyomi, 'sneakily' checking for injuries.

"Yeah, it was just a tumble. But it did show me I definitely prefer the water kind of ocean to the sand kind of ocean. I mean, fall off a boat and you're wet. Sure, annoying, but you'll dry up soon enough. Fall here, and you're covered in sand, and the sand is everywhere, and you will never ever get rid of it again," Kyomi huffs, crossing her arms.

"That's why you gotta be careful," Isak giggles, helping Dehya get the sand off.

Kyomi feels something inside her soften as she hears him enjoy himself, glad that he's got his mind off his grandpa now, even if she had to be a fool for it.

"When the two of you give up on the futile task of getting her sand free, we should probably start moving again." Alhaitham is keeping his distance, clearly not interested in dealing with more sand than he already has to.

"I'll just shake myself off like a dog when we get back." Kyomi shrugs, patting Isak's head as she starts walking. "Let's go, we've still got some walking to do."

---

Flash Fiction Friday taglist: @flashfictionfridayofficial

Kyomi in Genshin taglist: @thatoneyanfeifan @cr34tur33

General taglist: @simkarta333 @asher-orion-writes

If you want to be added to/removed from a taglist, you can either let me know, or you can do it yourself in this document.

#my writing #Shimura Kyomi #Genshin AU #flash fiction friday #flashfictionfriday #Cyno #Alhaitham #Dehya #isaiah posts

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nirikeehan · 2 years

Note

HAP FRIDAY NIRI!! you know what I'm here for but can I get some Cullen & Laela Trevelyan + compelling voice, from the bad things happen bingo?

You asked for something hideous and that I can provide. I combined it with this prompt from @little--abyss:

Thank you for allowing me to develop Laela a bit and make up one of the powers that lyrium gives Templars. Yes, this set up is based on the idea that Templars can do some Jedi mind trick/Dune Bene-Gesserit fuckery with their voices. 🤷‍♀️

This may very well go in the next chapter of Temperance and Templars, an AU where Cullen has been hired by the Trevelyans to be Thalia's personal Templar.

For @dadrunkwriting and @badthingshappenbingo

WC: 1638

---

Movement out the window caught his eye. Cullen looked up from his parchment, the words to Knight-Commander Greagoir dying on his quill. He saw the flash of auburn, plaited and twisted into a knot atop her head, accompanied by the sweep of pale violet skirts.

Cullen shot to his feet. “For Maker’s sake!” She was headed for a thicket past the estate’s neat hedgerows.

He dashed into the corridor and thundered down the stairs to the second floor. Lady Thalia was not to leave the premises unattended — that much had been made clear when they had previously been summoned to Bann Trevelyan’s study. Cullen thought Thalia had understood, given the penitent look on her face. He’d hoped the arrangement had been sweetened by the fact that he had not told her father about the “blood magic” experiment he had interrupted a few nights prior. Apparently, it had all been another ruse. The girl’s whimsies were beginning to wear on him, and he’d barely been here a week.

Cullen reached the second floor. From the landing’s narrow window, he could see out to the edge of the back gardens. Thalia seemed to have vanished entirely. There was no way he could catch up with her now.

Sighing, Cullen entered the hallway leading to the Trevelyans’ sleeping quarters. Thalia’s door was locked, no surprise. Instead of finding a servant to get him a key, Cullen kept walking, hoping he could find one of her relatives. A parent or sibling ought to know her habits, at least.

To his relief, the door to her sister’s chambers stood open, and he saw a bit of her blue samite gown as she strolled about inside. Cullen strolled over the threshold, summoning his courtesies as he went. “Lady Laela, forgive the intrusion, but I’ve a matter of some urgency—”

A projectile came flying at his head. Cullen let out a yelp of surprise and ducked. A bright, sharp pain seared his face. He pressed a hand to his mouth and slowly straightened. His palm came away dripping with blood.

The scream made him look up. Laela rushed toward him, green eyes wide. “Ser Cullen, I didn’t see you there! Oh, good Andraste, you’re bleeding.”

She reached his side and wrapped her arms around his elbow. Cullen flinched. He disliked unannounced physical contact, and that it was from a lady of the house complicated matters further.

“It’s just a scratch,” he said, to reassure her, but when he opened his mouth, the coppery taste of blood filled it. Stunned, he returned the hand to his face. “All right, maybe it isn’t.”

“Come, come, have a seat right over here, ser. I’ll take a look at it.”

He let Lady Laela lead him over to a high-backed armchair. He sat down heavily, while she dashed to a nearby wash basin.

As he waited, Cullen looked around the room. “What— was that?” Not far from the door he’d entered, the wall was strewn with parchment, covered in charcoal sketches. The likenesses were not bad, he noted: busts of various men. More alarming was that so many of the portraits had been pierced with feathered fletching. “My lady,” Cullen said carefully, “what exactly is it you’re doing in here?”

Lady Laela returned with a damp cloth, a bowl of water, and a laugh. “You must forgive me, ser,” she said, pulling up another chair to sit opposite him. “You’ve caught me amidst target practice.”

“Target practice?” Cullen echoed, squinting at the sketches. Names accompanied the portraits: Lord Royce Thorleye, Bann Averill of Strudwicke, Comte Poncelet de Quint…

“Darts, you see.” Laela leaned forward, examining him. The veil pinned to her flaxen hair brushed against his shoulder. “Here, take this. Press it against the wound.”

Cullen took the damp cloth from her and used it to put pressure on his mouth. Gingerly, he used his tongue to probe the swelling above his lip, and at last began to understand. The dart’s blade must have grazed his face when he’d entered. Because of its size, he’d hardly seen the thing coming.

He removed the rag from his mouth and fixed Laela with a look he hoped seemed appropriately stern. “I hope I don’t have to tell you how dangerous it is to practice with weaponry indoors.”

Laela’s delicate brows furrowed with anger. “Yes, well, usually the servants know better than to interrupt me.”

Cullen swallowed. “My apologies,” he said mildly, returning the cloth to his face. Next time I’ll ask permission before being assaulted.

“You’ve learned, and that’s the important thing,” Laela said, all sweetness.

“The drawings are quite good.” Building a rapport might help him smooth over the slight. “Did you do them yourself?”

“I did,” Laela confirmed, beaming with pride.

“Are they real people? I confess I don’t recognize the names.”

Laela let out a dark chuckle. “Oh, they’re real, all right.”

Perhaps it was the shock of incurring the wound, but Cullen hadn’t quite considered the implications therein until now. Part of him wanted to laugh. “Not a fan, I take it?”

“You could say that.” Laela’s tone was neutral, offering him no insight. Before he could probe further, she took hold of the cloth and pulled it from his face. “Oh dear, the cut is quite deep, isn’t it? I fear you might need stitches. I must tell Father to summon the physician.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Cullen said, mention of the Bann sobering him. What would the Trevelyan patriarch think to find his new hired Templar sitting around, injured by a wayward dart, while his mage daughter galavanted off who knew where? “Actually, Lady Laela, I’ve come to ask a favor. I’m looking for your sister. She knows she’s not supposed to leave the manor without me, but a few minutes ago I saw her on her own, wandering toward the edge of the property.”

Laela sighed. “Ah yes, classic Thalia. She often gave the last Templar the slip, as well.”

There it was again, mention of his predecessor. “I hope that’s not what led to the last Templar’s dismissal.”

Laela burst into peals of giggles. “Oh, no no no, don’t worry, Ser Cullen. It was far worse than that.”

What the hell does that mean? Cullen wanted to ask, but Laela was still speaking. “Father talks a big game, but Thalia is more or less free to do as she pleases. She’ll be all right.”

“Will she?” Cullen thought to tell her of Thalia’s aborted attempt at blood magic, but a glance at the gentlemen in the charcoal sketches made him think better of it. “I’d rather ascertain that for myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, I do mind,” Laela declared. “It would be silly for you to go running off after her in the state you’re in!”

She wrapped her hand around his wrist, and again Cullen jumped. Back in Kinloch Hold, he would have been wearing full plate mail, but the Trevelyans had thought the official Templar armor unseemly. Her palm was cool against his skin, and her face hovered closer to his once more. Her narrow nose had a crooked angle in it, he noticed. It threw off the symmetry of her face, made it garish somehow. Unsightly.

Cullen took a breath and slid his hand out of her grasp. “I can only assure you I’m fine,” he said, voice hardening. “I’d hoped you would be able to help me locate Lady Thalia, but if that’s untrue, I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own.”

Laela sighed. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

“I’d prefer the term ‘dedicated.’” Cullen took the opportunity to stand. “To my job, you see.”

“And you never tire of the Templar life, Ser Cullen?” Laela stayed in her seat, but leaned back and gazed up at him coyly, the hint of a smirk tugging one side of her mouth. “It must be so stifling. All those vows to take, rules to follow.” She slipped one leg over the chair’s armrest, revealing a pale stretch of skin from beneath her skirt.

Cullen stared at her. Maker’s breath, is she attempting to seduce me? He recalled Thalia’s words the night they met, that Laela was on the prowl for a husband, but Cullen had not known how much stock to put in the girl’s words.

“It isn’t,” Cullen said flatly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He turned for the exit, eager to put as much space between them as possible. A light rustling of samite followed, and Laela was at his side once more. She wrapped her arm around his elbow, smile dazzling bright. “Ser Cullen, I—”

“Unhand me at once,” Cullen commanded, and the very air warped with the sound of his voice.

Laela’s face went unnaturally slack. She dropped his arm as if it were burning her. Cullen wrenched away, breathing heavily. He felt dizzy, though from the encounter itself or his use of the Voice he couldn’t be sure. He held onto the doorframe and tried to catch his breath.

Laela blinked blankly for a few seconds, then started to come out of her stupor. “I don’t… what happened? What did you do?”

A sense of shame overcame him. As Templar abilities went, he’d never favored the Voice — partially because of its difficulty to master, and partially because of the ethics involved. He would much rather mages respond to a Templar’s wishes of their own volition. In all but the most volatile cases, it diffused the confrontation more effectively than forcibly bending mages’ bodies to the Templar’s will. And it went without saying one should never use it on a non-mage, as Cullen had apparently just done. That alone was grounds for dismissal.

“Forgive me,” he said, horrified. “I’ve got to go.”

Cullen stumbled from the room, leaving a befuddled Laela frozen in his wake.

#cullen rutherford #laela trevelyan #temperance and templars au #bad things happen bingo #dragon age drunk writing circle #fics

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revsforgottenwar · 2 years

Text

Homecoming

Rev’s Forgotten War AU!

Rating: MA

Characters: Nabooru, Link, Gerudo OCs,

Tags: angst

WC: 1500

The Sage of Spirit senses a disturbance deep in the desert.

The winds that swept over the Gerudo Desert at night bought a bite of cold that tore through the dunes and rock of the great basin. Creatures buried themselves beneath the still warm sand and cold darners began to glide down from the highlands like sparkling snowflakes.

Deep in the desert, far from the golden lights of Gerudo Town and the towering cliffs of the Highlands rose a great curved wall of rock, which cradled a small oasis of palms and clear blue water. The most spectacular feature of this small paradise, was the enormous woman carved into the centre of the great stone wall. Legs crossed and hands open to the sky, her palms were lit up by glowing balls of magical light. She watched over the oasis in silent meditation, beneath a sea of stars and the blinking of tiny faerie light which danced across the waters below her.

Nabooru stood on a gilded balcony not far from the statue’s left elbow and glared tiredly out into the desert beyond the oasis. The moon was nearing full, and while the light lay a beautiful pale blanket across the dunes, she couldn’t help but feel increasingly unsettled. She knew she wasn’t alone in this, the faeries that called the gardens before the Spirit Temple home had been acting increasingly skittish over the last few days. A disturbance in the magical plane is what the Great Faerie Khalida had called it, something only those connected to it could feel. It had been growing stronger over the past three days, as though its source was creeping closer.

A disturbance was not how Nabooru would describe it. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as the cold air bit into her. She closed her eyes and focused within and the Sage of Spirit felt one thing.

Pain.

***

She hadn’t slept in days and her temper was short and her body twitchy. The Temple was relatively empty, few visitors from town travelled into the heart of the desert except for special occasions and there were no priestesses to fill the Temple. The former thief didn’t consider herself particularly pious, ironic for someone whom was now a Sage. She saw little reason to fill the Temple’s halls, as far as she was concerned, the Goddesses knew what they were getting when they chose her. The only two permeant residents of the Temple were two of her former gang members turned Temple Guards, Balaa and Tashi.

Nabooru was deep in the Temple, sitting upon an elaborately patterned carpet within a circle of candles and incense and failing to meditate when Balaa entered. An eight foot tall wall of muscle she was nicknamed the Iron Knuckle for her incredible strength and brawling ability. Her inner circle knew she was a big softy under all that armour though.

“Sav’otta, you look rough.”

Nabooru just grunted in response, her eyes remaining closed.

“Found the problem yet?”

“If I had I would have destroyed it already and be fast asleep right now!” She snapped, eyes opening to glare at Balaa whom was unperturbed by the outburst.

Nabooru sighed, her head falling into her hands as she massaged her temples. “It feels as though it is getting closer. I can feel it during the day but it is far stronger at night.”

“You still want to keep this from the Chief? If there is danger then the Guard should be mobilised.”

Nabooru snorted, “This is my business not hers. Besides I’m not convinced it’s dangerous.”

“Not dangerous? Have seen seen how twitchy the faeries are?”

“That is because it’s uncomfortable.” Nabooru stood up and stretched before turning to walk past Balaa.

“There is a lost spirit wandering the desert, and it’s in pain.”

***

The moon was rising over the desert as Nabooru wrapped her cloak around her body and strapped her scimitars to her back. Despite the cold, she was sweating as she moved through the silent Temple towards the entrance, heading for the stone stable where the sand seals slept. The echo of the pained spirit was thumping through her head, the loudest it had been and she knew she would have to find it before she went mad.

She wasn’t surprised to find the seals awake and strapped up, nor Balaa and Tashi ready to ride out into the desert with her.

“Go back to bed.”

Tashi snorted. “I’ve seen your daytime surfing, you think I’m going to let you take my babies out at night alone?” She wasn’t particularly tall by Gerudo standards, only a little over six foot and slight but she made up for it in speed. She passed a set of reins to her wife before bringing a shield to Nabooru. “Lead the way boss.”

***

It was long past midnight and the women had surfed south-west across the dunes towards the endless horizon that lead away from Hyrule. Nabooru’s grip on the reins was becoming tighter and tighter as she cast her senses out ahead into the barren wasteland. She had seen maps of the known world in Hyrule Castle and knew that far ahead across leagues of sand was another kingdom. The name danced on the edge of her memory, not that it mattered, for there was no trade route that stretched across the Great Gerudo desert. Not even her people had travelled the full expanse.

She pulled her seal to a stop atop the ridge of an enormous dune and Tashi pulled up aside her, Balaa not far behind.

“We don’t have the supplies to carry on much further and i’m not familiar with any water sources nearby.”

Nabooru responded by collapsing to her knees in exhaustion, her hands sliding into the sand and her eyes staring out into the distance. She heard the quiet whispers of the women as they discussed turning around and the soft sound of the wind rolling between the dunes.

Every living thing had a spirit, a glowing presence that shifted with emotion. She had known this ever since she was a child, seeing the colourful auras that surrounded people, showing their true feelings and desires. This particular spirit had been powerful enough to feel or perhaps it was calling out to those who could hear. She looked out at the horizon and saw little splashes of colour, tiny plants and animals. Faint sources of life that despite all odds could flourish in the desert. It was then that she noticed some of these creatures were moving in a similar direction, scavengers most likely. Something twisted inside her and she felt the need to go.

Balaa’s head shot around as she watched Nabooru grab her shield and leap off the dune, surfing at incredible speed towards a small cluster of boulders in the distance. She followed suit, leaving Tashi with the seals. She soon caught up with the Sage picking up her abandoned shield before coming to a standstill behind her. Thats when she heard a quiet snorting from the rocks. She unhooked her enormous great axe from her back holster.

The Sage gently snuck forward, weapon drawn and glanced around the rock before tilting her head in confusion.

“Nab… what is it?”

“It’s… a horse.”

The creature was lying on it’s side in the sand, softly snorting, it’s ribs visible through its coat. It managed to lift it’s head and turn to face the women, moonlight shining into a white haired mane. It whinnied quietly at them before turning around to nuzzle something curled in front of it. Nabooru tensed, she knew this animal.

“How is it still alive this deep in the desert? Do you suppose it came from outside Hyrule?”

Nabooru was slowly arcing her way around the horse, every muscle in her body was clenching tight as she finally caught sight of the bundled cloth pressed against it’s side and the surge of pain flooded her senses. It’s aura was a faint sad blue, but there was little streaks of pink that connected with the animal, little flashes of comfort. She dropped to her knees before it, her hand running across the tatty fabric, finding a waist then a shoulder before settling on a head. She pulled back the hood and her heart broke.

A gaunt angular face was half buried in the sand. She brushed away long matted blonde locks to reveal jagged scars that crossed his cheek and forehead. Her fingers ran across them and found a line like a burn that wrapped from under his ear to his chin and likely to the other ear. It was almost as though something had been pressed against his face in the past. His eyes were closed, but she knew if they were open they would reveal two incredible sky blue eyes.

“Balaa, signal for Tashi to bring the seals.”

She held his face in her hands as Epona weakly nuzzled the back of his head.

“Welcome home little brother. I’ve got you.”

#loz #loz oot #nabooru #forgottenwar AU #revWrites

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sashi-ya · 2 years

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Sashi! Your latest event looks really intriguing; I hope you have a lot of fun writing for it. I'm really excited to see what you create for us.

If you haven't received too many requests for him, could I request Pharaoh Law x F!reader NSFW and arranged marriage? Whether you accept this request or not, thank you so much for the wonderful content you provide!

Hiii baby!! thank u so much for your support you are amazing!! I hope you like this little twist of the prompt!! It's been challenging and I LOVED IT! I hope you do too! 💖💖

👑Oh, Royal Lust Event ~ Royals AU event.

𝕟𝕤𝕗𝕨 ~ ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕠𝕙! 𝕃𝕒𝕨 𝕩 𝔽! ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 ~ 𝕆𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕝𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕤

tw: nsfw. inspired in Ancient Egypt culture, pure research as I'm not an expert much less a descendant, please forgive me if there are any mistakes. It's in no way intented to disrispect any culture. Law is a virgin (Pharaohs ruled when they were pretty young, tho he is 18+ of course, it's up to you to imagine how old he was) Reader is a slave so expect to read some whipping on your back and hot sand on your feet. Also, can you guess in which OP character I based the Oracle? 👐

wc: 3.2k

specific vocab: Nun ➡ the equivalent to the sky for the egyptians. Heqa ➡ typical Egyptian crosier that Pharaohs wore, let's say Law's Kikkoku.

Nemes ➡ were pieces of striped headcloth worn by pharaohs in ancient Egypt. It covered the whole crown and behind of the head and nape of the neck

Want more? visit the masterlist

His caramel skin covered in beautiful kohl paintings; his hips move as he climbs the stairs of the sacred oracle and with them the white fine linen of his royal clothes. The gold that covers his body shine with a setting sun that hides behind endless desert dunes and the atmosphere feels hot and heavy.

“Oracle, I’ve come to hear your predictions” he says, hitting his black, red, and white heqa against the floor. The pharaoh lays over the stone bed where he will wait for the deity to reveal the truth of his next steps.

His body rests over the rock, his inked hands over his stomach. He is ready to leave the real world behind. His eyes slowly close and his consciousness floats away to a sacred domain.

In between silky purple clothes the silhouette of an ethereal being appears, it calls him to walk further with the sweetest voice ever. “Come, Law… Come”

And he walks towards it, the being begins to take the form of a naked woman. Untouchable, dancing like a snake to the melody of darbukas playing.

And just like flowers, hands, many hands sprout from the woman. His blue eyes fixing on the Pharaoh aureate ones. The many hands touch his golden covered skin. She is the only who can touch him. His temples, and cheeks, his neck, his chest, his abs, down, down. Sexily grazing every inch of the king of the land crossed by the Nile river.

The woman giggles, and smiles at him. Her dark, dark hair goes up to the small of her back. “The Pharaoh has grown, and it’s consumed by lust…” she whispers in his ear, making him shiver.

“But the Pharaoh doesn’t want any of the royal wives…”

Her hands go down, down to his sex. And they graze, they play with it. Hard, hard the king becomes.

“Indeed, you are consumed by lust… you want to fulfil this need, don’t you?”

He moans, the many hands around his body are making him weak. He wants what she says, he feels the extreme need to bury himself inside the warm folds of a woman.

“It’s done… The Pharaoh will marry a slave… search for her, her eyes will guide you, and she will satisfy every itch your majesty has… she is consumed by lust, she is consumed by need, she wants your body as much as you want hers…”

His eyes suddenly open, they fix in the ceiling of the sacred Flower temple. Law, the Pharaoh, is panting, sweating, hard. Dilated pupils, high in exhilaration and desire. The reddish colours of a new day tint the sand that seems suspended in the air.

The Oracle has spoken, he will have to marry a slave…

Hot breeze, a sun blazing your skin.

Kohl lining your eyes and the marks of a whip in your back.

“Move, keep working!” they say, the leathery infernal pain flogging on your skin is barely compared to sun turning it into a dry cracked one. But you still are the most beautiful woman around, your eyes, your hair, everything of you…

To the side of the Nile, you pick the Lotus flower that symbolized purity and light, one by one. You were brought there because your hands were little and delicate, as well as your whole image and so that’s what they needed… but you were still painfully punished if you dared to stop.

As you cut the long stem of a beautiful pinkish tinted petals lotus, you hear bustling around. You stop for a second, just to look back, just to see what was all about.

“Who told you to stop, disgusting slave?” a guard shouts at you, and the sound of the whip cutting the air announces you, you were about to experience another scolding pain on your back. But you don’t. The leather never touches your skin.

You cover the back of your head, maybe waiting for some other type of hit, but as the previous, never comes.

“Slave, turn around” a new voice, husky, and peaceful orders you. Slowly and scared you turn around to appreciate the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life, covered in gold and jewels, wearing royal clothes.

Is he… is he… the Pharaoh?

Your face, covered in some mud stains and still beautiful make the Pharaoh instantly widen his impressive, lined eyes. He smirks, as he had finally found what he had been looking for, for so long. “What’s your name, Slave?” he asks to a startled you.

You instantly bow before him; your eyes immediately fix on the humid ground above you. Who are you to look at the King in the eyes? Nobody. But he is asking for your name…

“My name is (----), my Pharaoh!” you quickly respond, pressing your forehead in the mud as a sign of utmost respect. You can hear him play with the name in his mouth, whispering it over and over. A growing smirk on his face that you can’t see, but you can feel.

The guard, that had been scourging you nonstop, is taken away pleading for mercy by his royal guards and under the aghast looks of the rest of the slaves around you, you hear words you will never forget coming from the Pharaoh’s mouth;

“Slave, you will be taken to the Oracle. And she will tell me if you are the chosen one to be my Queen”

You can’t help but look up at him, his Queen? What?

“Your eyes are the ones I’ve been looking for through this vast desert, you will be mine. I’m sure” he says and offers you his inked hand to stand up. You blink repeatedly, you are sure you had passed away and now this is just your imagination or even a dream while you walk into the Underworld where Osiris rules.

But his hand feels extremely real, and when his fingers graze your chin up you can already taste a glimpse of your new life. A miracle just happened to you, and now you are sitting next to the maximum ruler of your life.

“Servers, water!” he demands and soon as he asks for it his servants give a vessel full of beautiful and so needed clean water. But he does not drink it and instead he takes the water to your cracked lips. “Drink” he orders and spills the fluid in your mouth. Water you don’t waste a single drop of it, and it feels so incredibly refreshing, it feels like walking into the doors of Nun.

It takes little time until you arrive to the boat that will take you to the palace. Getting into the sacred boat, something you have only seen from a far it’s enough reason for you to gasp in awe. The Pharaoh looks at you and in his chronic sever frown a glimpse of sweetness draws.

“Sit here” he commands, pointing at a fine wood seat. Surrounded by the most luxurious gold details you accomplish your first mission, obey your king. He sits right by your side and scans the many marks on your back as the boat begins to sail to the north. The papyrus leaves move as the ship makes its way into the Nile, and you smile at them as you think the flowers are saluting you.

The golden bangles chime when he moves his arms, and you flinch as you are used to protecting your head. But Law is not gonna hit you. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I wanna take a look at your wounds” he whispers, low so low so nobody outside could hear him. “I will take care myself of those, not only I’m a king but I’m also a surgeon with the power of the Gods”

You look at him, still scared but amazed. He is not only the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life, not only the king of this land, but also a God and a Surgeon?! “You are amazing, my Pharaoh” you mumble, taking a further look to his well-trained abs. His skin has become caramel, sun kissed as the inclemency of the desert likes to do with its habitants, but his eyes are golden, and they shine so bright like the sun.

He smirks, he looks intimidating, but he is not bad. He is good and his fingertips graze your back so subtly, almost barely touching not to hurt you. Your hair gets brushed to the side over your shoulder, and as he takes his time to inspect every inch of your flesh you remain silent fighting against the bumpy skin forming when he touches you.

“You… are beautiful” he exclaims, looking at your hurt still cover in mud palms. You widen your eyes, still unbelievably seeing how a sacred person like him is touching scum like you. But he keeps going as if he was looking straight into the image of a Goddess.

Soon, the ship docks at a port you have never seen nor even Imagined. “Welcome to Luxor” he says, when the curtains open and the shine of prosperity and wealthiness hit your eyes. “This place is called Malkata” Law informs you, as you cannot say a word because your mouth is occupied being opened in awe. “Our palace”.

He helps you descend the boat before startled eyes of his royal guards. Your mud-stained ragged clothes don’t belong in here, but still the Pharaoh insists on calling you his next queen.

Coming at you slaves and guards come to surround the Pharaoh from you. “Who is this?” one of his guards, white hair and chubby cheeks asks inspecting you up and down but with a sweet smile. “The woman that should be present to the Oracle, her eyes are what the sacred goddess told me to search for” Law says, whispering but sure of his own words.

Two more guards come at you, dark hair and red-haired men with white coverings and spears salute you. “Please, follow us” they say at unison, and you instantly look at Law for approval. “Let’s go” he says in a rather serious tone but nodding. You begin to walk, even if the heat of the stone under your soles is way hotter than the sand and you are not wearing anything to cover up. But you endure the pain, as you have always done.

You walk inside, beautiful gardens, water so much water. Damsels giggling and saluting the Pharaoh as he passes, ignoring you as if you were invisible. The joyful sound of melodies you haven’t ever listened. The smell of food you haven’t ever tasted.

“Pharaoh! Let us take care of her!” a sudden woman voice stops you all. Beautiful older women surround you, taking a closer look at your poor state. But Law doesn’t seem to allow anybody to touch you and he hits his heqa against the ground. “I will take care of her myself. I will prepare her to see the Oracle this night”.

And as the Pharaoh says, it’s done. They quickly disappear bowing, scared. Law speaks a little more aggressive than he had actually talked to you to the rest of the people.

“Follow me” he commands, talking only to you and just you. His lined eyes fixed on yours, no need to say anything else. His guards dissipate in a matter of seconds, and you are left alone with him at the entrance of the biggest building in front of you, the Pharaoh’s palace.

Inside it’s fresher, the smell of lilies invading the place. Surrounded by huge columns and beautiful architecture so weird and imponent for you a big tub of crystalline water awaits. Law smiles at your amazement and begins to undress. Out his royal pieces of clothing, nemes head off, the piece of leopard skin that was resting over his right shoulder too. And finally, the kilt that surrounded his hips.

The protrusion of his hip bones, the single vein showing on the tight skin of his sculpted V at the end of his stomach, even his sex… everything flashed before you. You, blink several times. His long black locks that are now visible falling over his shoulders, the many drawings over his sacred skin, the perfection of a God in the mere Earth right in front of you.

You quickly turn around; you are sure you are gonna get beheaded if you keep looking. “I’m sorry my King I didn’t mean to…” you try to excuse yourself, but you are cut short. His hands rest over your shoulders so ready to strip you from the rests of clothes that once were new.

“Let me undress you, we have to clean these wounds and take care of them” he says from behind, making you shiver. You nod, allowing him to untuck the little pin that held your rags together. They fall into the ground, as your old life did the moment, he called your name.

Law turns you around, silently, you can only feel the sound of the water rumbling as it falls from a little built-in cascade. He takes a look at your nudity for the first time, his lips apart, golden eyes scanning you. “Come on…” he commands, so sweetly pulling from your hand into the water.

The refreshing feeling turns into stinging sensations when the whip marks on your back touch the water, but soon it eases. Law sits behind you and begins to wet your back more and more with some water his beautiful hands collect. The water around tints maroon, and you can sense Law grimacing to imagine how much pain you must have suffered.

A soapy material then slides on your skin, you have never experienced that feeling but it’s smells amazing. “This is Natron, it’s a mineral mixed with oils to clean your flesh and wounds” he informs you, proudly using it on you. And you smile, you don’t know what it is to be cured or even treated like a human.

When Law finishes his procedure, he can’t stop himself and plants a kiss on your shoulder. “It’s all done” he says, looking at you after the peck. You blink, should you thank him? Of course, you should.

But he doesn’t allow you to do so, and instead he swims to face you. His hair dripping and thrown back and the kohl around his eyes a little smudged as well as yours. Everything feels peaceful and Law seems happy. “I’ve been looking for you for so long” he says, looking straight into your eyes.

“Were you?” you whisper back, lips apart allowing his body to come closer to yours. His thumb grazing your lips attracted by your beauty, by your skin. “They told me I should wait, that we should present ourselves before the Oracle and she will tell us if you are my future wife… but I can’t wait, what if the god doesn’t allow you to marry me?” he says, with a deep pain in his voice.

“Then try me now, my Pharaoh… use me now” you mumble as your skin burns, itches, dies to be touched by his inked hands.

He sighs, the building up desire for your meat is unbearable for him and he doesn’t care to be punished, he doesn’t care to be forbidden from the sacred positions when he passes to world of the death. His hand snatches your neck and pulls you so close your lips are about to touch.

“You have the face of a goddess, the body of one, you can’t be a sin” he whispers with his lips pressed on yours, turning that kiss into a violating tongue dance inside your mouth. Law’s arduous desire for a woman it’s unleashed, and he doesn’t wait a single second to sit you over his lap. The water splashes around you two and he kisses and bites your lips. He bites and pulls and then sucks on your neck, down, down to your nipples.

He lifts you up, like a beast drooling for more. His mouth reaches your belly, your belly button too. “Sit here” he says, using strong arms to put you over the edge of the huge tub. “Spread” he commands, separating your thighs to fit inside. He kisses the inner side of your legs, worshipping you as if you were his queen. Bites that leave marks, this time not from torture but from pure lust. A little peck over your labia, a little lick in between your slit.

“Let me taste you” he moans, attacking your sex with his tongue. Separating your anatomy he devours you, up and down and around. He knows exactly what he does, the little button of pleasure you rarely touched is now being attacked by him. And it’s wet, wet, and dripping. And you throw your head back, pressing your heels against his shoulder blades. But he is not mad, he is desperate, more and more for your reactions.

Law smiles, he even moans muzzled by your sex. I wanted to do this to a woman, you are so delicious I could …. I could do this for ages” he says, trying to stick his index inside you, too.

At this point you feel an electricity coming from your sex taking over your whole body, confused you let your nerves explode. Climax, that’s what it is. “This is an orgasm!” Law chimes like a crazy scientist cheering you up to finally make a woman experience something he learned in the Ebers Papyrus.

“Law…” you whine and scream coming so perfectly into his mouth. You fall back, panting feeling your heart jumping out of your chest, but Law is not satisfied yet, of course he isn’t.

He uses his arms to get out of the bathtub too and lies next to your still spasming body. “You… so perfect” he says, grazing your cheek looking at your eyelids fall sloppily halfway over your eyes. You smile lovingly, receiving even more needy lips on yours.

“I can’t stop myself, you are so perfect” he says, helping you lay on your side to look straight into your eyes. “My Pharaoh… you are absolutely amazing…” you moan, wrapping your leg over his waist as a sign of wanting more, of wanting him to dive deep into you without any waiting.

His hard, throbbing sex graze your still sensitive entrance, his nails carving on your thigh. “Can I-?” he asks, he knows he should ask, but he does it either way… it’s Law’s first time.

“Don’t ask me any longer, my King. Do me as many times as you want” you tell him, this time kissing him with pure love. “My Queen…” he whispers, penetrating you and saying goodbye to both purities. Sin committed, sin so unchaste, so lascivious. In and out, pounding in you. Breathing into each other’s mouths, pressing foreheads, like serpents tangling into each other.

Soon that amazing sensation hits you again, the heat, the electric feeling, pure pleasure. Law opens his eyes, and moans repeatedly, he is getting there too and as he does you feel him bathing your tremoring walls with his release.

Trembling bodies, exhausted, delighted. Both falling into reverie states, cuddling, naked, wet.

“Did I commit an unforgivable sin, Goddess?”

“You did just as I predicted. Good Job, Pharaoh… You have found her… now both rule this reign”

“We will, Oracle”

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blueparadis · 2 years

Text

━━━━ “You’re lovely even in your madness”; ft. Manjiro Sano

〜 content & warnings: afab-reader, hybrid au, artic wolf Manjiro, aphrodisiac Manjiro, an indication of heat cycles, blood kink, age gap, kissing, branding, switch Mikey; synopsis: nothing can satisfy artic wolf Manjiro Sano than your blood; wc: 0.75k

〜 notes : Kanto Manji Gang Mikey wrecked my mind.

LINKS SECTION.

“c'mon, up here!”, you muttered beckoning Arctic Wolf Mikey by flicking your fingers. He purrs with excitement jumping onto your lap, resting his paws on your shoulders; lightly pressing so that his claws don't hurt your luscious skin. His dark orbs linger over your face, lips as you pull him a little closer by grabbing his waistlines. He lets out a short gasp gaining your amusing stares.

Arctic Wolf Mikey sits on your lap comfortably, hands hanging along your plush thighs, wagging his tail as you hold his chin softly making him open his mouth. He is undeniably patient when you take care of him, keeping him so close to you that he almost forgets to breathe drawing in your beauty. And at times like these, your eye never meets his since you're busy examining his canines; before giving him your blood while his eyes roam restlessly all over your body.

He asks for it since he thinks he is clumsy and wants you to do a final check if he is properly cleaned or not. But at the bottom of your heart, you know he lets you touch his darkest parts so that you don't deny him, his rebellious love for you. His little coos and giggles are like melodies of winter. You can't help but have a quick scan of his facial dunes. “Gosh, he is so beautiful”, you ponder as you sink your face onto his mushy chest.

Now, Arctic Wolf Mikey doesn't know what to do: he hasn't seen you like this before. But your ambering vulnerability is so flickering that the moment he wants to soak you in his embrace, he gets lost on the thought of hurting you, offending you. You look up to him letting out a loud sigh and now he doesn't know where to keep his hands as you wipe his lips with a napkin.

Being in such haywire he keeps his paws hands on your boobs. He looks at you waiting for your response but it's so normal for you that you don't react. He purrs and stops wagging his tail. And when you ask him what happened, he sniffles a little, his paws still lightly kept on your boobs. You extend your wrist towards his fangs. He shoots a sharp quick glare before holding your wrist in his palm to start drinking your blood.

Arctic wolf Mikey groans in pleasure as your blood gushes through his throat. Your eyes are rolling white threatening your sanity so was his. "He is taking in a lot today", a thought bites at the tip of your tongue as you press your mouth with your other hand to keep down your whimpers. You don't wanna disturb him; his eyes still closed, brows furrowed as he pulls away looking at you. His puffy lips soaked with your blood, his pupils darker than before as you palm his face.

"That was a lot -Ah hah!", you moan as he sinks his teeth again onto your neck, sucking it blue. In a flash, he pulls away blood lacing at the corner of his scarlet tainted lips. He heavily breaths, as he mumbles, "I-I'm sorry-I, couldn't -I he notices your dropping eyes and without wasting a moment his lips dash onto yours. In the moment of impulse, you sink in his scent wrapping your hands around his nape as he deepens the kiss.

He grabs both of your hands firmly, sucking slowly upon your lips. "Doesn't your blood taste sweet?", he asks pulling away panting, eyes welling up in fear, in the thought of facing your denial. His head pressed against yours, pitch-black eyes piercing your soul. You don't want to answer him, scare him away; you don't want to bother him with your aching wound.

You get rid of your high-neck t-shirt left with nothing but your bra. He jumps out of your lap, tail swinging in a slow-motion as he turns around. You smile watching his naked back basking in the dusky hue. Pulling him in between your legs you kiss on his nape, curling your hands around his chest.

His heart is pounding like crazy. He buries his face in his palm letting out a growl of the complaint. You chin his towards the mirror saying, "you're lovely even in your madness" as he watches himself being painted with the love he never asked for yet dreamt every night.

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ggukkiereads · 3 years

Note

Hello!! Just a few days ago I stumble upon your blog and I'm wondering if you have some recommendations for Hybrid AUs, much appreciated if it is an OT7 and completed, but if so I will still be so thankful. (I just need some cure from the stress that modules brings) Thank You in Advance (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

🌷 Hello! welcome to my mini fic-reading land. I’ve actually received asks for Hybrid AUs (I pinned the requests in the navi) but I just have a very messy draft.

But to help you with your stress, I think I can share a few of my ongoing reads (sorry they won’t be complete but they’re OT7). But, I added completed ones I could remember too (●'◡'●)

*note: will edit this later and organize this per member - maybe add other fics I’ll remember*

Fic Recs | BTS Hybrid AUs

→ A Place Called Home @agustdakasuga - OT7 x Reader

series [27/27] | 88k | Hybrid AU, Poly AU, Soulmate AU, Romance Humor | Fluff

Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

→ If I Can Never Give You Peace @candlewaxandp0lar0ids - Jungkook x Reader

series [3/?] | 17.6k+ | Mafia AU, Enemies to Lovers | A (so far)

It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and her father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

🌷ggukkienote: I am so hooked on this (because I am a sucker for Mafia AUs too). This is such a great story and the OC is really different from the usual OCs. Very interesting.

→ Eunoia @wishesunderthestars - OT7 x Reader

series [15/?] | 100k+ (I just assumed this, masterpost doesn’t have wc but it’s 6k per chapter or more?) | Director!Reader, hurt/comfort | fluff, eventual smut

You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job. You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

→ Restitution @cloudteawrites - OT7 x Reader

series [7/?] | 48k+ | slow burn, poly, mystery, romance

when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is.

→ Lacuna @barbika1508 - Jungkook x Reader

series [42/42] | 324.3k | Hybrid AU, check for TW | Fluff, Angst, Smut

Lacuna - (n.) a blank space, a missing part

Y/N just wanted to go back home, to enjoy her peace and quiet away from problems and people. But typically, her luck strikes as she stumbles upon a horrific scene of two guys mistreating an already beaten down hybrid. Will she take matters into her own hands and help him? Or let someone else help along the way???

🌷 This is on AO3 and I got a recent ask about author’s tumblr. So if you prefer AO3 you can check their profile

→ A Hundred Percent Human by wrienne- OT7 x Reader

series [12/?] | 88k+ | Hybrid AU, fluff, angst, smut |

In which you (reader) are forced to take care of seven hybrids in a twist of fate. Drunk and down on life, you finally decide to deal with the house and the unsavory business your mother left behind. However, to your shock, you find that seven very different hybrids are included with both the house - and the business. Seven hybrids you never even met before - even less agreed to take care of.

🌷 This is on AO3. I don’t normally reco AO3 since my blog is focused on tumblr fics but someone sent an ask about this so I’m including it

→ Inferiority Complex @starlightauroras-writes - Jimin x Reader

series [10/?] | 88k+ | political themes, themes of abuse (hybrids) | A, S

You had never liked hybrids. You disagreed with their very existence, and you never wanted to have anything to do with them. And then one day, you discovered a hybrid who was more scared of you than you were of him, and everything changed as you realised you were the only hope he had…

→ Sanctuary @chimchimsauce - Jimin x Reader

series [16/16] | 20k | Wolf Hybrid!Jimin, Barista!OC, feat sanctuary staff Taehyung, hurt/comfort | F, A

YN is a young girl, bright and ambitious, but due to her busy schedule, she's been unable to make any real friends. When an ad for Saint Mary's Sanctuary catches her attention, she never expected her life to be changed by a certain hybrid named Jimin.

→ Summer Nights @marginalmadness - Jungkook x Reader

series [4/4] | 23k | Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance | F, S

A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

→ Risk it All @/httpjeon - Jungkook x Reader

series [5/5] | 8.3k | hybrid au, alpha wolf!jungkook | A, F, S

ripped from your family, you find yourself in a warehouse filled with predators. just your luck, you’re right across from a caged alpha wolf.

🌷 (I linked Chapter 5 because for some reason others couldn’t find this chapter so they thought it’s still incomplete)

→ Outro Love is Not Over @kiirokero - Hoseok x Reader

series [12/?] | Daycare Teacher!Hoseok x Single Mom!Reader

You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. But you’re a human. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

→ It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Right @imaginethisbts - TaeKook x Reader

two shot [2/2] | 11k | dom/sub themes, heat cycles | S

What’s better than one dogboy lover? Two dogboy lovers. But when Tae and Jungkook seem unusually clingy, it can only mean one thing. That time of the month has snuck up on you and your dogboy lovers do not want to share.

🌷 Also try their other Jungkook hybrid series Out of the Blue

→ Peculiar Park @daydreamindollie - OT7 x Reader

series [9/?] | 38k+ | imagines, slice of life | Writer!Reader, Psychologist!Reader, imagines | fluff

you’re a successful hybrid writer and psychologist who takes in seven hybrids on one stormy night after finding one of their pack stealing from your garden

→ Yeouiju @nomseok - Namjoon x Reader

one shot | 33.7k | Mythical AU, Hybrid AU (if you squint), suspense | A, F, S

you find an ancient stone in the middle of the mountains and bring it home with you, oblivious to the consequences of taking a dragon’s yeouiju.

→ Beautiful Stranger @/nomseok - Taehyung x Reader

one shot | 19k | circus AU | A, S, F

your dream is to take care of animals for the rest of your life in the big city, making sure that they’re cared for. but you stumble upon a malnourished, rare tiger in your local circus, and you can’t help but want to take care of him.

→ Evolution of You and I @readyplayerhobi - Jimin x Reader

one shot | 10.2k | kind of epistolary (letters), chat, childhood friends | F

For 15 years, Park Jimin has been in your life in some form. From childhood penpal’s to the closest of friends now, you can’t imagine your life without him even if you’ve never actually met him in person. It doesn’t help that you’ve fallen for him, even across the distance that separates you. But what happens when you finally meet up and you discover he’s been keeping something secret?

→ Fish are Friends @httpjeon - Taehyung x Reader

one shot | 10.2k | seahorse hybrid!taehyung | A, S, F

after moving to the seaside, there is a dreadful storm. when all is clear, a man washes up on shore…only he isn’t quite human.

🌷 you know seahorses mate for life and it’s the male that gets pregnant? Interesting huh

→ Pink Panther @gimmesumsuga - Seokjin x Reader

one shot | 13k | boss-employee | F, S

The one where your boss, Kim Seokjin, tries to show you how beautiful you are.

→ Ragdoll @ausblack - Jimin x Reader

series [17/17] | Hybrid AU, College AU | F, A

As you were studying to obtain your medical & veterinary degree, your professor came up with the idea of organizing an internship - where you found yourself side by side with a sick hybrid that needed nothing other that complete care.

→ Jagged + Catnap @opaljm - Jimin x Reader

one shot + sequel | 18k | jaguar/black panther!jimin, sand dune cat!reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers, established relationship (sequel)| S, F, slight A

The pretty little sand cat hybrid Jimin has been in love with for the past year experiences her first heat and Jimin would love nothing more than to be the one to guide her through it and breed her with his kittens.

🌷 there’s also a possible spin-off for Taehyung (Eye of the Tiger)

→ Owner @jessikahathaway - Jungkook x Reader

series [6/?] | 17.4k | Fake Dating AU, Hybrid AU, based on Kimi Wa Petto (Japanese anime) | F, S, A

With your mother hounding on you (no pun intended), you decided to get a little help from a hybrid, who was also in need of assistance.

→ Loving Him Was Red + Somewhere Only We Know @userseok - Jungkook x Reader

series [3/?] | 12.8k+ | enemies to lovers, childhood friends (sorta), college au, jock!jungkook, unrequited love (for OC) | S, F, A

you’ve been chasing after jungkook for years. after a harsh verbal altercation between both of you, you decide to leave him alone and pursue a relationship with someone who seems genuinely interested in you, thinking he would never return your feelings.

I would like to recommend the catalog of these writers:

@ditttiii - so I realize I’m following them on AO3 when I realized the fics looked familiar 🤭. They have an ongoing series called Enchanted to Meet You which you might want to check out if you like Soulmate AUs too! I recently reblogged a Jungkook two-shot comfort fic (hybrid au too) so I recommend going through their masterlist!

@aroseforyoongi - who I discovered because of Gossamer (KTH). It was completed but I think it’s up for re-write/re-post? You can try the others:

Navy Blue - Jungkook [completed]

Forever Yours - Yoongi [one shot, prequel to Navy Blue]

Let Me Love You- Jungkook [one shot]

@magicalsalamander - another favorite author of mine I just feel like I’m reading a great tale every time I start on a series or one shot. They have great fics with supernatural themes too

Rabbit on the Moon - Jungkook | if you’re in the mood for police officer Jungkook [6/6]

The Act of Persuasion - Seokjin | if you are in the mood for Single Dad AU x Arranged Marriage too [one shot]

Firefly that Guards the Fox - Taehyung | if you are in the mood for mystery [11/12 - just epilogue left]

Kitten’s Little Flame - Yoongi | if you like BF to Lovers between dragon and a cat [6/6]

There’s more so please check their Masterlist

@hollyhomburg - I just love Of Fire and Love (hello dragon!yoongi and baby!jungkook? 🥺) But you can check:

their masterlist of all their hybrid fics

Dance to This series which I’ve added to fic recs based on an ask about stories that include members/readers with disability.

Don’t care if it Hurts - Jimin | this is probably my favorite (again I’m a sucker for Mafia AUs) , guard dog hybrid!jimin [12/13, just epilogue]

@angelicyoongie - I got hooked after reading their stories on AO3 but they have tumblr too! Check their masterlist for ongoing hybrid fic (Abundance - OT7) but these are completed ones:

Desolate - Yoongi, grumypy cat hybrid [14/14]

Out of the Woods - Namjoon, wolf hybrid, strangers to lovers [3/3]

@worldwidebt7 - if you like webtoons! I read parts of Jungkook’s webtoon and I think currently we’re on Yoongi’s story. Access it here

@jincherie - One of the first hybrid fics I remember encountering is Inheritance (MYG). Other fics:

Perihelion - Hoseok, college, roommate, enemies [2/?]

Butterfingers - Namjoon, teacher au, this is cuuuute READ IT if you’re looking for something fluffy [one shot]

4 o’ clock - Taehyung, single dad au (I included this in the singel dad fic recs too) [3/?]

Under the Bridge - Jungkook, found jungkook under the bridge [one shot]

@whitesparrows97 - a writer I discovered because of a Yoongi soulmate fic but I found that they also have other hybrid fics:

Cat’s Cradle - Yoongi, bestfriend [5/5]

Underdog - Taehyung, shifter, brought home what she thought a stray dog [5/5]

@foxymoxynoona - and what would my reco be without foxymoxy? So they have tumblr but their works are on AO3. I’ve listed their current works here but I didn’t include their completed works which are must-reads:

Sugar Fairy - Jungkook, mating, adopted hybrids [48/48]

A Sea of Indigo - Jungkook, ex-fighter [48/48] ⭐⭐⭐

@therealmintedmango - They have a whole masterlist of their hybrid!au fics. I recently finished Kingdom Come and I always remember Jimin from King (for some reason)

@joonbird - check their Zodiac Hybrid Masterlist of one shot per member

There are more (usually one shot per member) but I’ll probably put them in another Fic Rec List for Hybrid AUs. Sorry this list is kind of all over the place (not even organized per member 🤭). But good luck with your modules and I hope these help!

(❁´◡`❁)

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subspencer · 3 years

Note

Perv! Spencer touching himself while r works out

i didn't know how to end this lol but i also made them roommates for this. felt fun.

wc: 1.3k cw: masturbation, penetration, unprotected sex, perv!spencer, roommates au

“Hey, did you come to join me?” you asked while turned upside down in downward facing dog, contorting your body to watch your roommate walk into the living room.

“No, I just needed to read my book…” he waved a copy of Dune with a sheepish smile. “It was getting stuffy in my room.”

“Ah, ok. Well, I’m almost done with my workout, so I’ll be out of your hair in twenty.”

Spencer waved off your concern and took a seat on the couch just a few feet behind you.

“No worries, take your time.”

You smiled and returned to your yoga video, moving into a deep lunge. Looking behind you, just to make sure Spencer was doing fine, you saw him crack open his book and start reading, and were satisfied with that.

The moment you looked away, going back into the first position, his eyes left the page. Your ass was up in the air directly in front of him, barely covered by the tiniest pair of shorts he’s ever seen.

“How’s the book?”

“Hm?” His hand fell from under his chin, mouth agape. “Oh, it’s good. Really good…” his voice trailed as you shifted into a lunge on the opposite leg, stretching your thighs deep.

Pressing the side of your front thigh into the ground, you moved into a pigeon pose and bent forward, letting out a deep groan when the muscles stretched out.

Spencer cleared his throat when he heard it. “Does that - does that hurt?”

“Not really. Feels good, for the most part,” your wince didn’t convince him as you pushed yourself closer to the floor. “You should try it.”

“I think I’m a better observer,” he laughed.

“Well, help me with this next one, at least.” You made him get up and walk over as you laid with your back flat on the mat. “I need you to help me get my leg up.”

“What?” he choked. You brought one leg into the air, twirling your ankle to gesture for him to grab it.

“Yeah, push my leg. I need a good stretch.” Spencer swallowed dryly, wrapping one hand around your ankle as he began pushing your leg closer to your shoulders.

“Ah,” you winced as your knee got closer to your chest, closing your eyes and biting your lip.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“No, keep going!” Your hand shot up to his, holding his grip there as you had him continue. Your knee was almost to your ear when you let out a low groan.

Spencer didn’t know where to look. He was standing over your hips, right above you while you whined below him. If he looked down, he’d see your face contorting as the pain of the stretch turned to satisfaction. And to his side, there was a full-length mirror where he could see the both of you in this compromising position.

He chose the mirror, knowing he could see your face and entire body in it. He scanned the whole picture, from you to him on top, opening you up to him.

“Spencer, you can let go now.”

“Oh.” He quickly let go, and you raised the other one for him to repeat. As he brought the other one equally as far up, he rambled out, “Wow, you’re really flexible.”

You laughed. “Yeah, it takes work but it’s worth it.”

“Why?” His brows quirked, already thinking about doing this to you in more naked terms. You could tell what he was thinking even before that.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you smirked, pulling your leg even closer. Your eyes flicked down to his crotch, just to tease him, but the second you looked at him you saw him twitch in his trousers.

“Okay!” you quickly released your leg bringing it down to the floor, cheeks burning at what you’ve witnessed. “I’m all done!”

Spencer scrambled off of you, clearing his throat and adjusting himself not-so-subtly.

“Thanks for your help.” You avoided his eyes as you got up and rolled the yoga mat up.

“Yeah, anytime,” he muttered.

Your mind raced with that image of him as you quickly ran back to your room, leaving Spencer embarrassed in the living room. You were only trying to mess with him; it was just so unexpected to actually get a rise out of him.

You thought to go back out and try to smooth over that awkward encounter with him, but heard the bathroom door click shut as he went in. It was right between your two bedrooms, sharing an adjoining wall with your bedroom.

Two seconds later, you heard the jingle of his belt and a faint groan. And then a stream of stifled moans. And before you could think, you were storming out of your room and barging into the bathroom, which he didn’t even bother to lock.

Spencer was leaning against the counter, jeans pulled down his thighs while he palmed himself over his boxers. His eyes flew open when he heard you come in, caught red-handed.

“Shit!” he scrambled to pull his jeans up, cheeks turning vermillion. “Fucking knock!”

You were ready to run back out, not knowing why you’d even come in in the first place, but when your hand hit the door handle again, you pushed it closed and locked it. Taking two long strides to Spencer, you put your hands on the counter on either side of him, boxing him in.

“What are you doing,” he croaked, covering himself with one hand and running the other nervously through his hair.

You stared at each other for one long, silent pause before you pushed him back on the counter, tugging his boxers down. Wiggling out of your skin-tight shorts, you placed your hands back on his thighs.

“You wanted to see how flexible I am,” you explained, swiftly raising one leg and placing your foot on the counter behind him, keeping the other one planted to the floor. Spencer’s hips were directly under yours. When you pressed forward just a little, you could feel your pussy graze his cock.

Spencer was speechless. His mouth was wide open as he looked down where your body just nearly met his, cock twitching when he saw your bare body. You followed his line of sight, deciding to take the first move and grab his dick with one hand, running his tip through your folds before lining him up and sinking down on him. His hands flew to your hips, moaning as you buried him inside.

“Fuck me like this and see for yourself.” He quickly did as instructed, thrusting his hips up into the narrow space between you, already so deep in you. He gripped your knee that was bent on the counter, pushing it to open you up even more as he thrusted faster.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin through his thin t-shirt. He winced as you dug them in, moving his hips impossible fast, knowing he wouldn’t last long. Just as your supporting leg started to wobble, he pushed your knee back and quickly pulled out. Panting as he pulled his shirt up, he gave himself a few short tugs, finally coming all over his bare stomach within seconds.

“Fuck,” he gasped, painting his belly in white. Your throat ran dry at the sight of him.

Before he got up, you turned on the shower and stripped down your shirt and bra. Helping Spencer peel off his shirt, careful to avoid any of his mess. You were still sweaty from the workout, and even more so now.

“Are you gonna show me some other tricks,” he joked, climbing off the ledge. Shaking your head, you stepped into the tub, holding the curtain for him to follow in after you.

“Come in and find out.”

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fic #perv!spencer #blurb

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lavenderjacobs · 3 years

Text

i wasn’t ready to say goodbye ~c!Karl drabble

this is my entry for @salinesoot ‘s 2K writing contest :)

➳ wc; 0,4K ➳ tw; angst :’) ➳ summary; au where reader meets time traveler!Karl, and is forced to say goodbye way too soon ➳ song reccomendation; water fountain - alec benjamin

it had been about a week ago, when a mysterious stranger showed up in your village. nobody knew who he was or where he came from, but he appeared like he just wanted to help. at first you where suspicious of his intents, but over time you grew to like him. a lot. and he also showed particular interest in you. you didn’t know what it was, but there was something about him, so familiar, that made you feel so safe. you had asked him if it was possible you two had met before. he smiled. “in another life maybe.”

days passed, and as he helped rebuilt your village from the tragedies it had seen, it became more and more clear that he wasn’t here to stay.

“but why? why can’t you stay a little longer? what is pulling you from here?”

you had asked with teary eyes, when he told you he was leaving the next morning.

“I have places upon places, that I still need to visit. people upon people, that I still need to meet. there are countless of tales that I still need to tell. I’m sorry Y/N, but I promise you we’ll meet again.”

“how do you know?” you asked.

a single tear trickles down his cheek.

“I just do.”

the next morning you found yourself wandering off to the beach. a place you and Karl had made countless memories. enough for a lifetime. you where grateful for the times you got to spend with him. but you can’t help but wonder, how things would’ve turned out if he had stayed. there was so much you still didn’t understand. he said it wasn’t your fault, but yet you felt the bitter feeling of guilt in your stomach. your mind gets cloudy with thoughts. so many “what if”s and “if only”s.

a strong breeze brushed past you, goosebumps raised on your arms and neck. a melancholic feeling washed over you. it was really over. a time that had felt like a dream. well, to be honest, was there really any proof that it wasn’t?

you decided to head home. as you gathered yourself and got up, a familiar figure appeared in the misty dunes. something that could only be a mirage. your brain playing tricks on you.

Karl

the wind gently brushed through his hair. a smile appeared on his face, one that felt so genuine and familiar. it had to be real.

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

#Karl jacobs #c!karl #c!karljacobs #c!karl jacobs #time traveler karl #dsmp au #karl jacobs au #karl jacobs fanfic #karl jacobs imagine #c!karl jacobs imagine #karl jacobs angst #c!karl jacobs angst #c!karl angst #karl jacobs x reader #c!karl x reader #karl jacobs headcanons #karl jacobs headcanon

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jd-loves-fiction · 3 years

Text

Stars, forgive me

➤ “You look so beautiful in this light.” Tim says even quieter, heart so warm and full it could burst from having you safe in his arms. “Stop.” You tell him quietly, fingers flexing atop his chest plate as your head hangs low. “Why?” “I'll cry.” You croak and oh, might be a bit late for that warning, because you can already feel the tears you’d been able to hold back, begin to well up once more. “I'll wipe your tears, it’s OK.”

➤ genre: Fluff, Angst, Mandalorian!Batfam AU

➤ wc: 1.4k

➤ 🌙 I know I haven't been on at all recently and for that I am sorry but my mental health kinda took a nosedive🥴and I came out with a LOT of new projects and this is part of one of them. I’m not sure if I’ll continue it yet, so let me know if you want to see more. Also this is supposed to be somewhere in the middle of the AU so there’s a lot of context missing.

The afternoon sun of Tatooine shines in your eyes as you walk towards the top of a large dune. You close them for a moment, letting Tim's hand guide you as it grips yours.

He stops suddenly, visor turned towards your face as you step in front of him, the sun bathing the left side of your face.

The sounds of civilization are far behind you now, off beyond this dune where no one can see much more than two figures standing before one another. If you look to your side you can see the enormity of your shadow on the pale sand, and the city even further out. But for now your eyes stay on Tim, expectant. This is no light subject after all.

"We don't need to do this right now, you know?" You ask softly, squinting against the glare of the sun reflecting off his helmet. Noticing your discomfort, he tilts his head down, more relaxed despite the adrenaline no doubt pumping through his veins.

"I know, but i want to." He says slowly, tone resolute even through the modulator. It's clear to you that he's thought about this before.

Your eyes fall shut before he has the chance to ask you to do so. You know the drill.

Tim's eyes stay on you for a moment, before his hands slowly lift up his helmet until he feels the sun on his skin.

This shouldn't feel different, you've kissed before after all. But always in the dark. So this one time, Tim can finally behold all that you are without rush or fear or all the filters in his visor. He can truly see you.

You take a deep breath as his gloved hand rests below your ear, raising your head to where you remember his to be as you wait for his lips to make contact.

And when they finally do, it feels just like the first time.

It's slow, just like his approach as he takes his time analyzing your features from every distance as he gets closer. His lips are soft on yours, careful and methodical, nothing like all those other times. Your hands drift to his cool chest plate for a moment, before one moves up to grip the red scarf around his neck, urging him closer. You seek that adrenaline, the rough meeting of tongue and swapping of spit as if this is your last evening alive, which by your circumstances it might be. But Tim holds you steady, keeps his lips closed and his hand firm on your face, guiding, slowing you down and allowing you to enjoy the moment as he knows it might not happen again any time soon. The way he makes you back off that high you seek could almost be teasing, hell, maybe it is but your thoughts are murky with him and only him and logic is tough.

You would’ve chased his lips as he pulled only a breath away from you, if his hand didn't stay rooted where he placed it. His lashes flutter for a moment as he can’t help but admire you once more, displeased pout and all, before he goes back in for more.

You follow him this time, trusting and finally realizing that there’s no need to rush this. So you follow him, let him lead the kiss, let him be the one to part your lips as his tongue finally meets yours almost shyly. It's slow, filled with longing, trust and adoration. It’s perfect for this moment.

You separate as oxygen begins to grow scarce, just as a gust of wind passes by, moving sand around you and caressing your hair and face soothingly as your hand does to his face.

First your right rises from his scarf to hold his jaw, tracing your fingers over his prominent cheekbones, before your left hand does the same, making him step closer to allow your fingertips to map out his features blindly.

“What color?” Your finger twirls a strand of longish hair, “Black.” you hum in response.

“These?” You ask as your thumbs caress the skin just below his eyes, feeling his skin move as he smiles fondly at the gentleness of your calloused hands. “Blue.”

Your hands continue to brush over his skin like the lightest of kisses, as if you’re a painter and his skin is your canvas, bringing color to his world, just like you did when you met him and Jason. Your hands finally settle over his warm cheeks as you hum, “Just as I expected,” you start, a smile threatening to break out across our lips as you hold it back, “you’re very handsome.”

“And how do you know that?” Had it been any other day, Tim would’ve scoffed at your attempts to charm him and brushed it off disingenuous, but not this time, with softness in the arm and the gentle mischievousness of your expression.

“Well I can tell you’re not some weird creature under there, so that's good.”

“I can still be blue, you know?” He says back, equally as cheeky.

“I've seen your hands,” Your hand drifts to grasp his and bring it up beside your head, “I know you're pale as shit.”

You chuckle softly, delighted to hear him do the same, before your hands place themselves against his beskar chest plate, waiting for him to move to put his helmet back on.

“Did you put it on yet?” You ask after a moment of silence and a distinct lack of rushing or any movement under your hands.

“No, not yet. I wanna look at you for a little longer.” Tim admits as his orbs of endless blue linger on every little thing about you. You scoff in response, feeling his gaze burn through you with a loving intensity that makes your cheeks red and makes you want to turn away timidly.

“I don't want to ever stop looking at you.” He whispers, words almost lost in the wind if you weren't so close.

“That's unfair of you to say. You can look at me all the time.” Suddenly, there are tears behind your lids from thinking back on all the moments that you had to stare at a helmet instead of Tim’s brilliant blue eyes that you imagined.

You felt selfish in that moment, just like this one, for wanting more, for in some way wanting him to break his sacred code for you. That was just too much to ask, you know how much it means to him. You can only find solace in the fact that you’re only human and these feelings are to be expected, in the end, you hope that the stars forgive you for your greed.

“I mean without the helmet and the code. Just as if this was a somewhat normal situation.” Hearing him say it soothes you, knowing that he too wishes to break his code or at least ignore it for a moment because of you, it makes you feel a little better. It makes your chest feel a little lighter.

Silence is all you can focus on as the sun starts to fade beneath the sandy horizon, you can feel it more than see it. You can feel the nearly unbearable heat disappearing from the side of your face, making you get closer to the source of warmth in front of you, beneath his smooth beskar armour.

“You look so beautiful in this light.” Tim says even quieter, heart so warm and full it could burst from having you safe in his arms.

“Stop.” You tell him quietly, fingers flexing atop his chest plate as your head hangs low.

“Why?”

“I'll cry.” You croak and oh, might be a bit late for that warning, because you can already feel the tears you’d been able to hold back, begin to well up once more.

“I'll wipe your tears, it’s OK.” He speaks so simply, so kindly, that it breaks your heart even more. After all that he’d had to deal with, his soul remains genuinely good and that nearly breaks you as there’s just too much emotion within you at this moment, all for this one boy that holds your heart so tenderly in his beautiful hands.

Your head falls even more as you rest it on his armored chest, wishing to feel his heartbeat beneath your palm but ultimately settling for the warmth that involves you as he clings to you.

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miceenscene · 3 years

Text

Star-Crossed

din djarin/female oc | soulmate AU | pre-canon wc: 2.6k summary: The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one. People, house, clan. And when all else failed, your Match. “Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense. But what's a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin? warnings: canon-typical violence an: first go at mandalorian fanfic. we'll see how this goes :D Masterpost | ao3

Chapter One: The Urge

Din Djarin has been alone for a very long time.

And somewhere along in being alone, he decided he liked it. He preferred it.

People were pushy. Demanding. Rude.

They took one look at his armor and assumed the man underneath.

At least that’s what he decided was the reason he preferred solitude.

There was an unacknowledged truth, however, that perhaps choosing to prefer loneliness dulled its edge ever so slightly. Just enough to be ignorable most nights.

But some nights, deep in the slip of hyperspace, when it was just him in his tiny bunk on The Razor Crest, it wasn’t ignorable. It sat high in his chest, occupying the space between his lungs, filling it with an emptiness so big it threatened to squeeze the breath out to make room.

On nights like that, the helmet usually went back on.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one.

People, house, clan.

And when all else failed, your Match.

“Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense.

So many lamentable things were lost in the Great Purge.

The beskar, their homeworld…

Lose enough people, break enough pairs, does it even matter if the Matches still exist?

Or don’t, as the case might be.

So much of what the Mandalorians once had is lost. What’s one more thing?

What’s a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin?

He knew his stars. The constellation that outlined the path of his life.

Every Mandalorian had one.

The elders had been very keen to identify his when he first was found. They did eventually.

Tal’onidir. Blood struggle.

Or ‘blood, sweat, and tears’ as the Alderaanians would have said.

Though in the time before the Purge, both halves of a Match’s stars would have been consulted for a clearer picture.

But all he had was his half. All most everyone had was their half.

Very few of the old myths still applied in a galaxy barely free of an Imperial yoke. But even Din had to admit that his stars felt more right than he wanted them to be.

Life was a constant struggle.

Struggle to survive, struggle to continue, struggle to carve out some semblance of contentment with his lot.

He felt he was doing as well as any could.

And then, out of the clear night sky, everything changed.

He was in his ship when he first noticed something off.

Four fresh pucks from Karga, plotting the most fuel-efficient map between his quarries and Nevarro. When he found himself putting in coordinates for Tatooine.

None of the quarries were on Tatooine this time. He stopped, shook his head, and punched in for Jakku.

Desert planets were bound to blur together.

He brushed it off, deciding to get as much sleep as he could in hyperspace.

It was a helmet-on kind of sleep, though.

It came up again as he was leaving Corellia.

He’d actually locked in the coordinates that time and was halfway through atmo before he noticed.

And then it was when he set foot back on Nevarro, four carbonite platters ready for delivery later, that he felt it again.

He didn’t want to be here.

But it was in the middle of Karga offering up new pucks when Din really damned himself.

“Do you have any on Tatooine?” slipped out before he could stop it.

Karga did. Just the one, and a risky venture at that. A Captain in one of the Hutts palaces.

Din took it. He wasn’t even sure why he took it, but it was too late. He was half-way to the ship when he realized he hadn’t taken any other bounties.

Still some part of him unclenched as he finally made the jump to hyperspace.

He’d thought that this odd urge would evaporate as he landed.

It didn’t.

That way it said, gesturing metaphorically for the Dune Sea.

Even if his quarry was technically that direction, this whole journey seemed foolish. And he might have given up if not for that old saying his Armorer was so fond of,

‘Instincts can be misled, but they never lie.’

Peli was her usual self--some combination of persnickety and jovial that landed right in charming. But she did lend a speeder bike.

Finally Din was off, racing through the searing sands.

It was less than a day’s journey, however, when he felt the urge again.

Stop.

He did, scoping all around him, trying to figure out how this gulley between dunes was different from all the others.

Pulling out his pocket scope, gave him a clue. The Hutt palace warbled in the far distance. Now just to figure out how to get inside, kill and/or remove one of the better trained guards without alerting the whole palace.

He watched the palace for the rest of the evening, noting guard rotations, possible alternate entrances.

After the suns set, things began to get a little tense

Dark was the obvious option for trying a covert entrance to the compound. But the urge was rather adamant.

Wait.

“Wait for what?” he asked an empty desert before immediately feeling foolish

His answer came a few hours before sunrise.

A small barge left the palace, floating just a hundred yards north of him. There weren’t many people on board. A few guards, perhaps a slave--

And his quarry.

Well. Rarely did events turn out so damn convenient.

Follow.

Even better.

Back on the speeder bike, he kept pace with the barge, keeping a few dunes between them. Trying to log as much information as he could before striking.

Four guards. One slave. One quarry. No one appeared to be below deck. This wouldn’t be too difficult.

Then the slave kicked one of the guards off the barge.

Another immediately fired a shot at the slave, only to be gruffly stopped by the quarry with the flat of an axe blade.

Din watched on thermal as the quarry pulled something out of his jacket, and then the slave dropped.

An armor piercing scream echoed through the desert, settling high in his chest and constricting.

Now.

Speeder bike surged forward, and one shot with his grappling cable, he managed to land feet first on the side of the barge.

It dipped under his added weight. One guard leaning over to inspect and getting a blaster shot between the eyes for his trouble.

Two more leaned over, but Din ran along the side to get momentum and swing himself up on deck.

The quarry bum-rushed him, axe out. Beskar took most of the brunt, and Din knocked him back, nearly off the side but he gripped the railing, sending a small device skittering to the deck floor.

The slave stopped screaming and that tightness in his chest immediately relaxed, though it didn't evaporate.

Danger.

Yes, obviously.

Din shot one guard as the slave, a human woman in some sort of flowy very impractical clothing, got to her feet and knocked another one off into the sand.

“Duck,” he yelled to her, before shooting the last guard behind her, as she dropped to the deck.

The quarry got back on deck and instead of going after Din, or the woman, he ran for the device near the front of the ship.

“NOOO–” the woman yelled as Din ran after the quarry. But the quarry arrived first, smashing the butt of his axe into the device and destroying it.

Her cry cut off abruptly, but Din focused on getting a single shot to the back of the quarry’s head first. He succeeded.

The post-battle quiet rushed in, cut only by the sound of the barge motor still going and his own breathing.

Save.

He turned back to examine The Woman, who was prone on the deck, not moving. The tightness returned.

Civilian casualties were… an unfortunate reality. He did his very best to avoid them whenever possible. But there had been instances before.

Though those times didn’t make his hands shake as he turned on thermal again.

The shake ebbed as he confirmed she was still alive. Just unconscious. A breath cut out of him.

Save, the urge repeated.

Well, he couldn’t fly a stolen Hutt barge as the way back to Mos Eisley. Hopefully the speeder bike was where he left it.

It was. Though it wasn’t meant to hold three people. The quarry was strapped to the back like so much cargo, and since The Woman didn’t seem to be waking anytime soon, he had no choice but to hold her.

It was more awkward than anything else, her head flopped on his pauldron and her perfume filling his nose

He didn’t know the scent, but it was rich and sweet, and lingered in the back of his throat

They arrived at Mos Eisley as the suns broke free of the horizon.

Peli gave him a strange look when he asked for bolt cutters, but even if the woman was unconscious, Din wasn’t going to leave that collar on her.

Though now came the most important question: what was he going to do with her?

She seemed stable, no wounds that he’d noticed at all. Though she still hadn’t regained consciousness.

It was probably a fairly safe bet that an escaped slave wouldn’t want to stay planetside.

And if she did, he’d bring her right back after getting paid.

He tucked her into the only bed on The Razor Crest –though bed was a generous definition– and found every blanket to drape on top of her. Space was cold and the fabric of her dress was nearly translucent.

Save.

“I’m trying,” he muttered, heading to the cockpit for take off.

The Woman didn’t wake up before Nevarro.

Two and a half full days unconscious was not a good sign. Even for someone like him.

Thermal said she wasn’t running a temperature. At the end of the second day, he gave her a bacta shot for good measure.

Nothing changed.

Fix.

For all the time he spent on Nevarro, Din realized very quickly that he actually knew precious little outside of the covert. Which left him with Karga as his only source of guidance.

“Is there a hospital here? Or a doctor?” he asked, as soon as money had changed hands.

“Are you hurt, Mando?” Karga gave him a once over, as if checking for missing limbs.

“Not for me.”

“Well, we do have a clinic. But it’s run by a healing droid.”

“No droids,” Din responded with a fervency usually reserved for his ship.

Karga held up his hands in surrender. “Then I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

Fix.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Din asked, “Where’s the clinic?”

A Mandalorian carrying a blanketed bundle the size of a grown woman though the marketplace was bound to get a few strange looks.

Luckily, there wasn’t a line at the clinic.

Unluckily, the droid was still there.

The Woman looked concerningly pale on the table as the droid ran scan after scan. Her hair, dark and curly, didn’t shine like it had under the Tatooine double sun rise. It was limp and lifeless.

Like her.

Fix!

“How many more scans are you going to run??” Din snapped.

The droid was unfazed, finished its test before turning to face him.

“I have found the problem.” A projection appeared of The Woman’s head in profile. A small white square at the base of her skull. “She appears to have a chip implanted between her third and fourth cervical vertebrae.”

“Removing that will fix her?”

“All signs point to this being the root of the problem.”

“Can you remove it here?”

“Yes, but you cannot be present for the procedure.”

Though the idea of trusting her care into the hands of a droid made his palms itch, Din nodded.

He was allowed a moment to say good-bye, which felt both strange as he didn’t even know her name and yet not long enough all at the same time.

He touched a gloved hand to her shoulder, promising that this would fix it.

Though he wasn’t sure who he was promising that too.

A full hour crawled by as Din waited in the dingy clinic waiting room. The urge very insistent

Fix. Return. Fix. Return.

He was about ready to go ask what was taking so long again when the droid returned.

“The procedure was a success. She may be confused for a few days. But her mind will heal with time. Your wife is sleeping now, but can leave by the end of the day. ”

Side-stepping the presumption, he asked, “Do you have the chip?”

“Yes. Would you like to keep it?”

“Yes.” Mainly to find out where it came from in the first place. Implanted chips were rare and few, if any, were legal. Especially not ones capable of this sort of… control.

Given that The Woman was still sleeping, Din decided to take the chip to get some answers.

The urge was not happy.

Return. Return. Return.

But really, when she woke, the droid's face would be more expressive than his own.

From this side of the city, he took the southern entrance to the covert.

There was a tension shift as soon as he stepped down into the subterranean tunnels. The oddity of a Mandalorian was stripped away, thankfully.

At the heart of the covert was the armory and more importantly the Armorer. He sat before her forge and waited to be addressed.

“I see no defects in your armor,” she said, not stopping her smelting.

“I seek answers, not repairs.”

“Answers to what?”

He placed the chip down. She picked it up to examine it silently before setting it back down and returning to her work.

“Where did you find this?”

“Tatooine. Inside a slave from a Hutt palace.”

“Is the slave alive?”

“Yes.”

“They may provide more answers than I can.”

“She’s not conscious,” he explained, taking the chip back. “And–”

The Armorer waited for him to continue.

“I was… led to her.”

“How?”

He paused for a long moment, trying to find a way to explain. “Instinct.”

Danger, the urge suddenly said.

A slight commotion out in the hall behind him interrupted their conversation. Raised voices echoed down stone walls.

The Armorer’s comm link came to life. “Outsider at the southern entrance.”

Danger! Go.

Din was up on his feet before he made the choice to do so. And he was halfway down the hall by the time he’d realized he’d left.

A few other Mandalorians were also moving to the southern entrance, back up if there was an invading force.

Danger! Danger!

The urge pulled him into a sprint for the last corner.

Coming around it, something high in his chest resounded in fear.

The Woman was standing at the end of the hall, dressed in his dark shirt he’d pulled over her dress before taking her to the clinic, with at least six Mandalorian blasters pointed at her.

Save!

“STOP. WAIT.” Din ran down towards the stand off. “DON’T SHOOT.”

A few blasters turned his direction before their owners saw who he was. He could hear quite a few more Mandalorians also approaching from behind.

The Woman, however, did not seem bothered by the guns or the platoon of armored warriors surrounding her. She calmly walked forward, gaze focused somewhere ahead of her.

On him.

Return.

Her eyes were a soft grey, yet distant. Foggy.

Din drifted towards her. The urge now palpable under his skin.

Return.

However, it was only when she reached out and took one gloved hand in hers that it finally relaxed, disappeared.

“Outsiders are not permitted inside the covert,” one of the guards snapped.

“She’s not an outsider,” the Armorer replied.

Her voice seemed very far away to Din who felt it was more important to study this woman’s face than listen.

“She’s a Match.”

That cut through the gentle reverie of grey eyes.

A what?

Chapter Two: The Question

taglist: @kelenloth ; @keeper0fthestars ; @loversandantiheroes

#din djarin #The Mandalorian #din djarin x original character #pedro pascal #din djarin x ofc #The Mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin fanfic #soulmate au #Star Crossed #i have no clue what the good tags are for this can you tell?#my writing

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