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pasukiyo · 28 days

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TAKING OVER ME

anakin skywalker x f!reader word count; 3,801 warnings; unprotected p in v sex, reader is a sex worker summary; you haven't been able to get your mind off of the handsome jedi knight since the first night you laid with him. and now he's back, but something seems off...

The Jedi Knight was coming again.

The other girls grumbled their displeasure and glared her way as she applied her lipstick, rubbing her lips together while she touched up her makeup in the vanity mirror. She paid them no mind however— she knew they were only envious.

It’s not like she could blame them. Never before had she ever actually looked forward to working with a client, in fact, if you had told her she’d be this giddy like a young school girl just a month ago, she’d scoff as if it were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. No one was just excited to do this kind of work anyways, it was just a way to get by before, a way to keep a roof over her head and food in her belly.

It’s not like she still wanted this life for herself. Not at all, actually. If it were her choice, she’d have run away with the handsome Jedi long ago. But she told herself that if this was the only way she could have him, even for a few nights at a time, then it was worth it.

And he was coming back today.

This was only the third time he’ll have come to her, the third time in the span of a few months but she’d been dreaming of this moment since she saw him last. She’d practically been on a whole other planet since the last time he left her, she couldn’t even bring herself to care when she’d been called for other clients, didn’t even care when the gross Mon Calamari man came in last night.

It would all be meaningless come tonight, when she finally saw him again.

“How come she gets the actually appealing clients, Lizcar?” Vitta, a Twi’lek asked from the vanity beside her. She rolled her eyes as she touched up the blush on her cheeks, catching a glimpse of their Rodian employer, Lizcar, through her reflection in the mirror.

“It is not like I choose the girls for them, ho-tah,” Lizcar scoffed as she approached where she sat, eyeing her features through the mirror. She suppressed the urge to grimace when Lizcar approached, the strong scent of Ryll lingered on the Rodian’s breath and clothes. “The Jedi pays good money,” she said at last after a prolonged moment of silence. “See to it you are on the best of your behavior tonight, yes, kwa-sah tee?”

Lizcar reached out with her long, noodle-like fingers to drag them against the underside of her chin and she blinked away her distaste, peering up at her employer through her darkened lashes. “Yes, Lizcar,” she replied simply, silently willing her Jedi Knight to hurry up and rescue her from her awfully smelling boss.

Lizcar hummed low as she retracted her fingers, relief washing over her as the Rodian turned and made her way towards the door. “I will come and fetch you when he arrives,” she said before slipping out the door and she watched as it slid closed behind her.

The girls in the room continued their gossip, a mixed jumble of Basic, Huttese, and other languages permeating the room. Vitta, however, slid away from her vanity stool and she watched as the Twi’lek approached out of her periphery, her breath hot as she leaned down to face her reflection in the mirror. The Twi’lek’s seafoam green eyes bore into hers and the cerulean skin of her hand soothed down from her bicep down to the crease of her elbow.

“I wonder what the Jedi Knight sees in a simple girl like you,” Vitta’s voice said in a soft hiss, each syllable laced with a hint of venom. The Twi’lek’s animosity was palpable in her touch and she found herself grimacing, eyelids narrowing as she gazed at the woman beside her. “You are so plain,” Vitta continued, plucking a strand of hair from behind her back and tossing it before her face, a corner of her purple lips curving in a smirk when she twisted her face in displeasure. “So basic.”

“And yet, he did not pick you,” she replied in a hiss, turning to glare at the Twi’lek beside her. Vitta’s gaze darkened as she turned to bare her teeth, lip curled in challenge. Just before either could say any more, the door once again slid open for Lizcar to step back inside, calling her name.

“The Jedi is here for you, mwa-shashi,” she announced and she gave Vitta one last hard look before she rose from her seat, the Twi’lek, too, straightening her posture. With one last look at the blue girl before her, she spat, “have fun with the Snivvian.”

And with that, she pushed past Vitta, the thin lace of her long, black cover-up flowing behind her as she followed Lizcar out of the beauty room and into the foyer. The Jedi Knight was not there, however, and she turned to face Lizcar quizzically.

“He has already gone up to your room,” she stated as she circled around the front desk, bending down to reach for a bottle she had tucked away out of sight. “Seemed very worked up. Wouldn’t doubt that you have your work cut out for you tonight.”

She couldn’t help but feel the corners of her lips twitch at this as she made her way to the staircase, practically skipping every other step just to ensure she could reach her room faster. She could feel her heart lurch as it beat in her throat when she approached the door of her bedroom, willing herself to breathe and relax as she pressed the button on the panel beside it, the door sliding open.

The room was dimly-lit, illuminated solely by the setla lamp in the corner. A tall, dark figure stood with their back turned to where she stood and her heart skipped a couple of beats as the door slid closed behind her. The Jedi Knight still did not turn and she did her best to keep her composure, although it was proven difficult when she knew how good he could make her feel.

“You’re back,” she managed at last, speaking through a lump of saliva that had formed at the base of her throat. The Jedi Knight hummed as she cautiously approached, her fingers wary as they traced the line of his elbow through his thick, dark robes. She circled around until at last, his side of his face came into view, the thin scar that fell in a line down the end of his eyebrow, the plush of his pink lips that pressed themselves together in a firm, thin line.

This was hardly the first time she’d ever seen him but still, the sight of him never failed to take her breath away. It was truly devastating how beautiful he was, like a fallen angel who just so happened to stumble into their galaxy. He was simply unreal, for a human especially.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, finding his gaze beneath the darkness casted on them by his lids. His eyes were like endless pools of deep blue, like the murkiest waters of Kamino. There was something darker in them now, however, something she couldn’t quite place. Something was troubling him, it didn’t take a Jedi to sense it. Lizcar appeared to be right— she did have her work cut out for her. “Something ails you… are you alright?”

The Jedi Knight— whom she didn’t have a name for, for either of their safety’s sake— let his eyelids fluttered closed, his chest heaving as he drew in a deep breath. Her brow furrowed as she watched him, as the arm she had been gently gripping onto moved, his other hand— his mechanical hand— wrapped around her wrist, dragging it up to his face. She gasped when her knuckles connected with the warm flesh of his cheek, when she flexed her fingers and could feel just how soft his lips were.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said at last, turning his lips into the skin of her hand and she shuddered when he placed a kiss there. His fingertips pressed into her wrist and she pressed her lips together as he placed a kiss to her knuckles, another to the tips of her middle and forefinger, trailing his mouth down to her wrist.

Goosebumps erupted over the expanse of her skin as he worked his kisses down her arm, using her arm to pull her into him as his lips reached her shoulder, trailing from her collarbone, up her neck, to her chin where he peppered kisses along the expanse of her jaw. He nuzzled his nose against the underside of her jaw just beneath her ear and breathed her in, as if he’d been craving her just as much as she him.

“I’ve missed the way you smell,” he said and she gasped when he kissed the lobe of her ear, his teeth gently nibbling on the soft skin there. “I’ve missed your skin. The way it feels. The way you feel.”

She whimpered when he trailed his kisses back down her jaw until they reached the center of her throat, pressing the most delicate of kisses there. Then, his mouth made its ascent back up her chin until it reached hers, their lips touching but not quite. She was shuddering, her lips quivering against his in anticipation.

The Jedi Knight let his eyelids open and she, too, looked at him, his gaze so dark she swore she’d be reduced to a puddle at their feet any moment now. Locks of dark blonde hair fell over his eyes and she resisted the urge to reach up and swipe it away just as his lips parted once more.

“The noises you make whenever I so much as touch you.”

Heat flared from her chest and fell down in a line to her center, warmth swirling and wetness pooling in the thin panties she wore. The Jedi Knight pressed his lips harder into hers, sealing them in a kiss. Her knees began to wobble and she swore she’d be a puddle of magma at their feet had his hands not been there to support her.

Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as his tongue swirled inside the expanse of her mouth, and it didn’t take much for him to have full control over hers. She mewled into his mouth, leaning into him for more until he pulled away, either of their chests heaving as they chased air back into their lungs. Cold bit into her skin as he removed himself altogether from her and she fought back a whimper as he removed the outer layer of his robes, dark gaze never once leaving hers.

“I’ve been from planet to planet nonstop since the last time I saw you,” he said in a low murmur as she lowered herself on the bed, slowly removing the lacy black cover-up she wore, the thin shoulder straps sliding down her shoulders. The Jedi Knight was down to just his pants, pulling the shirt he wore beneath all of his robes up over his head and letting it drop to the floor. “I’ve been to many beautiful places and met many new people yet, all I could ever think about was you.”

She flushed at the confession as she unhooked her bra, tossing it aside so that she laid bare for him, save for the black lace panties she wore. The Jedi Knight’s deep blue gaze wandered over the canvas of her body as he approached, hovering over her, his fingers woven through her hair as he shook his head down at her.

“I don’t know what you have done to me,” he murmured. “But I cannot get enough of you.”

He pressed his lips to hers again and she was putty in the palms of his hands, so eager for more of him that she didn’t know what to do with herself. His kisses ventured past her mouth, past her face, past her throat until they reached the valley between her breasts, his breath hot as it fanned over her skin.

“What have you done to me?” He whispered before turning to ravage one of her breasts, his tongue swirling over the peaked bud, her lips parting in a gasp as her chest heaved closer into his mouth. He removed his lips from one bud only to venture over to the other, truly not letting a single part of her body untouched. Her fingers wove themselves through the messy locks of his hair and she could just make out the dark gaze he was giving her through hooded lids, tossing her head back into the pillows behind her when he pulled away.

His kisses traveled down her belly until they reached the hem of her panties, pressing his lips against the lacy material. “I couldn’t stop touching myself at night thinking about how good you feel when you are wrapped around me,” his voice spoke in a low husk and she mewled as his fingers curled around the hem of her underwear, tugging them down her legs agonizingly slow.

“Please,” she gasped when he finally ripped her panties away from her body altogether, feeling his breath as it approached her arousal. She squirmed beneath his gaze, wiggling her hips, desperate to have him closer. The Jedi Knight simply watched and she swore she could feel the intensity of his gaze on her pussy, on the slick that was surely dripping down her slit. “I need… please.”

He glanced up at her through the dark of his eyes, slowly lowering himself closer to her throbbing heat, his lips but a mere whisper away from her sensitive bud. Her hips bucked, or rather, they tried to anyway before an invisible force held them down, away from him. Her eyelids snapped open and she peered down at him, his hands on the mattress beside her body.

He was using the Force on her.

“Patience,” he tittered and he was so close to her, she could feel the half crescent shape of his lips against her heat. “I plan to take my time with you. To rid you of the memories of the nights between when I last saw you.”

She was a mess and he hadn’t even touched her yet. She struggled against the Force, desperate for any sort of friction she could gather. It was no use, however. He was too strong and she huffed, deflating in defeat.

The Jedi Knight chuckled at her realization that she was defeated, lowering his head until his lips could place the softest of kisses against her clit. She gasped at the abruptness of his kiss, her chest heaving in anticipation as he kissed her again and again and again. The Force pried her legs open and his arms hooked beneath her thighs, tugging her in even closer.

His tongue flattened against her entrance and she hissed through her teeth as he licked one, agonizingly slow stripe up her slit, flicking his tongue against the underside of her clit in the process. Sweat already began to bead on her hairline and oh, how she ached for more. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted his tongue or his fingers or his cock inside of her— all she wanted was him as close as possible.

“Please!” She mewled as he teased her tongue at her entrance, as if playing with his meal. The Jedi Knight chuckled, “such manners.”

And then she was done for.

He buried his tongue inside of her, so deep that she wasn’t sure it was impossible for a tongue to be able to reach that deep inside of her. She was a shining, writhing mess as he ravished her pussy, practically shoveling her orgasm out of her with his tongue. Her hand reached for his curls again, tugging at his scalp, to which she earned herself a hum of approval, the vibration sending her even further down the tunnel of bliss.

The Force was back on her hips the second she began to buck them again, holding her down and ensuring he wouldn’t let a single drop of her release go to waste when she finally let go. Tears stung the outskirts of her eyelids as she came and she swore she could see the entire galaxy when he worked her through her orgasm with his tongue, lapping every last drop she had to offer up.

When he pulled away, she cried out, wanting more, needing him on her again. The Jedi Knight’s lips and chin glistened with her slick and he chuckled at how desperate she was as he pulled away to tug his pants down his legs, finally letting his cock spring free of its restraints. Even through the blur of her tears, she could make out just how big he was, could already feel her mouth begin to water at the sight.

“Please,” she murmured as he approached like an eclipse, casting a shadow over her. He was so big that all she could see was him, all she even cared to see was him. It was times like this she wished she had a name to put to his face, that she had a name that she could call out to, to moan. He was her beautiful stranger, her beautiful enigma she wished she could know everything about.

“You’re so… desperate,” he sighed as he hovered over her, pressing his lips onto hers for a brief kiss. “The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Once again, the Jedi Knight was able to steal the breath from her lungs, to leave her speechless. She sighed as he kissed her again, as his hard length prod against her thigh before against her entrance, gasped when the girthy head broke past the barrier between her folds.

She tensed and cried when he pushed just an inch further in and he shushed her, kissing the tears away from her face. “Relax,” he cooed, waiting until she eased before pressing himself further inside of her. Still, he wasn’t all the way in but still, she felt so full.

“You’re so… hngh!” She cried when he snapped his hips further to sheathe the rest of himself inside of her, her nails etching crescents into the flesh of his shoulders. The Jedi Knight kissed her just below her eye again, pressing kisses all the way down to the shell of her ear.

“Call me by my name,” his whisper curled around her ear and she fluttered her eyes open, just making out the darkness of his stare through her watercolor vision. “But… but I—“

“Anakin.”

She gasped when he pulled out almost all the way just to snap his hips back into her again, feeling full to the brim with him yet again. Anakin. He had a name and felt like he trusted her enough to share it with her. Something sacred fell between them, like a thread had been sown between their souls to bridge them together.

She now knew his name.

“Anakin,” she breathed when he kissed her again, pulling away so that he could grip the headboard of the bed with his mechanical hand, his other grabbing a fistful of her hip. He cursed when she said his name for the first time, using the headboard as leverage to buck his hips into her again, harder each time.

“Say it again,” he groaned, fucking into her so hard that the bed was shaking, his grip on the headboard not enough to keep it from etching dents into the wall.

“Ana…! Anakin!” She yowled as his tip bruised her cervix over and over and fucking over again. White hot bliss scorched her skin, Anakin had taken over every single one of her senses until all she could think about was him. He was a parasite, infecting every sense of her being until she couldn’t think straight anymore.

She wasn’t quite sure she cared.

“Anakin!” She screamed again as she pulsed around him, squeezing his cock so tight that he cursed and fell until his lips were against her neck, sucking marks into her skin. She was so close to the edge, so close to succumbing to the bliss that she almost didn’t quite hear him.

“Run away with me.”

She blinked, his pace never once stopping despite her own world coming to a screeching halt. Surely she didn’t hear him right?

“Wh— what?” She managed to ask through the murky slime of her mind, trying to make sense of what she just heard. Anakin lifted his head from the crook of her neck until their gazes could crash into one another again, much like a supernova. She mewled when his hips slowed but still, the feeling of him inside of her stayed.

“You heard me,” Anakin drawled, his mechanical hand woven through her tresses while the other caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I know you hate it here. So leave with me.”

She was at a loss for words, her mouth opening and closing but nothing could come out. She wasn’t sure what to say— was this not what she had been daydreaming about only hours before?

Still, a tiny voice in the back of her mind told her this was just a joke, that he couldn’t have been serious. Yet, when she stared deeper into his dark blue gaze, she wasn’t convinced that he was just jesting.

“But where… I…”

“Don’t worry about that,” he shook his head, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Let me get you out of here. I can’t stand to be without you and… and I know you’re not happy here and I…”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She leaned forward, lifting her head until their lips were connected, stealing his breath away this time.

“Yes,” she breathed against his mouth once they had broken their kiss. “Take me away with you.”

Anakin smiled, white teeth peeking from the cracks of his lips. He bucked his hips into her again and she gasped, clutching the bedsheets as he grabbed either of her hips, fucking into her at such an animalistic pace, she wasn’t quite certain how she would even manage to run away with him if she couldn’t walk.

“Gonna be all mine,” he murmured beneath his breath as he pushed her towards that edge once again. In the back of her mind, she could only imagine the rampage Lizcar would go on in the morning when she realized her top girl was gone. She could imagine the look on Vitta and the other girls’ faces when they all realized who she must’ve left with.

And she smiled up at Anakin just as either of their orgasms washed over them.

a/n; so uh happy Easter!! 😭 not sure if this is the most appropriate thing to post on Easter but you know....

anyways, me?? posting two days in a row??? (do not get used to it LMAO)

TAGLIST;

@your-nanas-house

@chaoticevilbakugo

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin smut #star wars anakin #star wars #star wars smut

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simlit · 2 months

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Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // fifteen

next / previous / beginning

ASTER: Look, Titania, isn’t he superb? TAYUIN: My name isn’t— ELVEN COURTESAN: Were you looking for some company? TAYUIN: I… ASTER: Why, yes he was! Come, come, sit! We were just about to start our game! ELVEN COURTESAN: I’m Ryll. TAYUIN: Tayuin. ELVEN COURTESAN: What a beautiful name for a beautiful boy. TAYUIN: That’s sweet, but… I utterly pale in comparison to you. ELVEN COURTESAN: You’re too kind, my lord. TAYUIN: I’m not, but I’d feel awful having you dragged all the way over here for nothing. Would you like to be my Fours partner? ASTER: And then tonight you can have him on all fours— ouch! EIRA: Stop being vile. ASTER: You’ve a mean kick, Witcher! I’m but a humble bard! ELVEN COURTESAN: What a rowdy bunch. TAYUIN: You don’t know the half of it. ELVEN COURTESAN: My lord, I could better see your hand if we could sit a little closer? TAYUIN: Right, o-of course. ELVEN COURTESAN: It’s not troublesome, I hope? TAYUIN: No… No. Why would it be? TALILA: The two of you look adorable together! I expect it will be a lovely wedding! TAYUIN: We’re not getting married! TALILA: Well, why the stars not? You’re spending all that money! EIRA: She doesn’t understand what a brothel is, does she? ASTER: Not at all! It’s funnier that way. EIRA: You’re cruel. ASTER: Precocious. I prefer “precocious”. ELVEN COURTESAN: Everything alright, my lord? Are you uncomfortable? TAYUIN: No… no… ASTER: Your turn, Faerie Queen! ELVEN COURTESAN: My lord? TAYUIN: I’m sorry. I can’t. ASTER: Oh, I do so love coming here. THERION: That trick never gets old for you? ASTER: Of course not! Making people uncomfortable is endlessly entertaining! EIRA: Gods above. ASTER: Come now, Witcher. Don’t tell me you want to save him, too? ASTER: What a spoilsport! He brought it on himself, you know! EIRA: And if His Grace had left you high and dry with the consequences you’d brought down on yourself, where would you be right now? ASTER: Hum… EIRA: Give me that. THERION: Yessir.

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #cc: aster songleaf #cc: eira #cc: talila #cc: tayuin eth'salin #cc: therion erandaer

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scara-writes · 10 months

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Yandere :OC Masterlist (1)

????

...darling♡

Luke:(the omega)

orange juice

orange juice: you into him (20%)

Sheon:(the gold digger)

change of heart

change of heart: red-handed (?)

Rylle:( the prince)

regress

Solas :(The Soulmate)

i to you

Yuri : (The Emperor)

sweetheart

Theodore: (The Duke)

Paramour

Paramour: Duty(?)

Everett:(The Lover)

Paramour

Paramour: Duty(?)

Wren: (The killer)

Woods (in progress)

Hunter : (The King)

Lethally Yours (?)

Last Update;25/04/24

#scara writes masterlist #scara writes #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere x you

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quinn-of-aebradore · 7 months

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Wyll's dance scene is just as wonderful as I hoped it would be, oh my gosh. Ry is smitten. Wyll is smitten. I am smitten. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Bonus kiss under the cut cause this is already long :3

#baldurs gate 3 #ryscena beimenor #ryll #also the poly mod works!!! convo marker popped up for karlach but clicking on her just prompted her usual dialogue menu. no breakup convo #and then the marker goes away! is perfect #now just gotta wait for her scene too :3 #ryllach is in progress!!!#wyll ravengard

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und3rwat3r-a5tr0naut · 2 years

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I’ve been yelled at to give facts so here’s everything I’ve come up with since last night.

RYLL FACTS

Ryll is 6’9

He has a corgi named Toast. (Who has a designated fluffy mat next to Ryll’s desk)

He loves pineapple/coconut, his favorite drink is piña coladas

Canonically seems rlly skeezy and sketchy, but get him talking and you’ll realize he’s a perfect gentleman.

A socks and sandals type of guy at some point in his life.

Has Nick Valentine from fallout 4 as a voice claim.

Loves poached eggs and toast for breakfast.

Investigating the mafia.

#that’s it so far #I could pull more from thin air but I want them to actually come to me and I don’t force the ideas #detective ryll #oc

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jurassicteeth · 5 months

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Party NPC ref for a dnd campaign I’ll be starting soon! He’s a Druid, circle of the moon.

Used the starting druid outfit from bg3 as a reference for how Ryll’s druid armor looks :D (refs used below)

#oc #ocs #art #dnd #dungeons and dragons #dungeon master #dungeons and dragons npc #dnd npc #npc d&d #dnd charcter art #dnd oc art #dnd oc #dnd character #dnd art #dnd5e #dnd character art #character sheet

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better-than-one · 1 year

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oh deer, doe-n't hurt yourself!! hoof it back if anything goes wrong, haha!

-🎊

Oh, that's good wordplay. Do you mind if I borrow it in the future?

Please don't.

I'll write it down.

Rowan, I'm afraid we have to break up. I can't risk Zil becoming my brother in law.

#*rowan attempts to turn a real giggle into a fake sob.*#kass asordun #wren ryll #zil ryd #fairy: confetti #code of conducting

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foxilayde · 2 years

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Sansana Part 1/2[Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Drugs, illegal activity, slavery, non-explicit sex, cursing, denial of feelings.

THIS IS PART ONE, PART TWO WILL BE OUT NEXT WEEK!

Summary: You’re a spice runner with your partner in crime Poe Dameron. The Pkye Syndicate has entrusted you with a special mission and Poe is making things interesting...

Word Count: 5k

A/N: This is a gift to my dear friend Alex @blackberries45 it’s her birthday today, so show her some LOVE. The reader character is going to be called ‘Lex’ for obvious reasons.

Spice. Not ryll, not polstine, and certainly not fucking gliterstim. Sansana Spice to be more accurate. Highly prized, highly expensive, and highly illegal. A useful crime world currency. Crime. Ha! The word has no meaning to you in a galaxy where planets are being vaporized and the war doesn’t seem to have a single thing worth fighting for. The so called republic, who would gladly toss you in a cell for the rest of your life for finding a dusting of Sansana on your flight suit, doesn’t do shit about the slavery and sentient beings abuse that’s been taking place on Kessel for the past 500 standard years. Wonder why that could be. Couldn’t be because the planet-vaporizers and generals of the planet defenders alike are hooked on the stuff. Not hooked, like, medically. Well, sometimes that’s the case. But they’re hooked on the money. Every currency has gotta be backed by something, and credit where credits are due… you can find the Fort Knox of the galaxy on the northern hemisphere of Kessell; with the droids and the slaves with their vibropicks and short life expectancies.

You’ve seen them. The slaves. Droids and mammalians nearly indistinguishable from each other- cloaked in the red dust of the deep mines. Children. Of every species. Probably born into the shit. You can’t care, you can’t afford to, so you turn a blind eye like everyone else in the galaxy, you get your shipment and get the hell out. You fucking hate Kessel and you’re glad to be on the ship leaving the ugly bubbling rock. You’ve heard the southern hemisphere is nicer. Plantations inhabited by the most intolerable people you could imagine. It does turn your stomach to think about it too much, hence the getting the fuck out of dodge, but even if you stopped, even if you quit, it wouldn’t matter. The boring and drilling won’t end on your account and there’d be a new runner to replace you. So it goes. It’s the lifeblood of the galaxy, Sansana. A tidal force. And some folks want to virtue signal and talk down to you just because you’re riding the wave instead of getting dashed on the rocks. Whatever. They can drown if they like, not your problem.

In short, it doesn’t matter what you do. Bakers, gunmen, artists, and thieves. If you’ve got credits in your pocket- then baby you’ve got blood on your hands. So what? You’ve cut out the middle-man. You’re closer to the root, to the seam; you’re a spice runner. Hell, spending most of your life in a tanker ship dodging the Reps is probably a helluva lot safer than building a life on a planet somewhere, waiting for the day Kylo fucking Ren has another tantrum and decides he wants to blow up a planet because his daddy left him or whatever the hell that little fucker’s problem is.

You’re bitter, bitter about Alderaan and the bitterness has manifested itself in this hard exterior that works well as a shield in your line of work. Don’t get close, don’t get attached. Because one day, quick as light-speed, it could all disappear. So you do your thing, you band with whomever the Pyke Syndicate teams you up with, and you make your runs from Kessel to Correlia to Oba Diah to Nevaro. You send your bloody credits to your family, whatever you don’t spend yourself, and you keep your shell strong.

That is until you met Poe.

Poe is the best fucking pilot you’ve ever flown with. Maker, to watch him light-hop, to run and outgun the Reps, it’s like a dance. He’s smooth too, not just his attitude, but for a runner like yourself to see the way his hands have a mind of their own at the control panel, flicking the correct of the 52 switches outside his line of vision while not breaking a sweat despite the fact he’s got three Reps on his tail… maker, it’s something to witness. Familiar with the model of ship or not, he’s got a steady hand at the helm; his competence is like the executive function of the ship itself. He’s incredible.

He doesn’t stress you out like Zorii does, cursing up a storm, barking orders at you. Poe is encouraging, Poe gives high fives, Poe claps you on the shoulder and says shit like “nice work”. And being touched isn’t really your thing. Not in any fucking capacity. Crowds freak you out with the possibility of rubbing shoulders with someone, and not just because you’re wary of pickpockets. There’s a thing about proximity that you can’t handle, alright. So far Poe seems to be the only exception to the rule, his touches don’t make you cringe or flinch. They’re tolerable. You don’t like a lot of people. And that is to say, you don’t like people in great quantities and you don’t usually meet someone you can tolerate. It’s not rocket science to figure out why you find yourself in the middle of hyperspace with relative strangers, bouncing from planet to planet, often not stopping long enough to take a full deep breath of the native air.

The sterile recycled oxygen on the ship is the smell of home. Crisp and dry like plastic, resiny like fuel, and of course; aromatic like spice. The shit is so pure and potent that no amount of packaging can contain the pungent fragrance of the drug. You don’t even bother to hide it in the gunnels on long trips because if a Rep boards the ship, there’s not going to be any mystery as to what you’re hauling.

What is a mystery is what the hell Poe Dameron is doing running spice when he so clearly likes people and craves stability. He itches to get on-planet on your off-days, to go to markets and chat with strangers, to try new food, to see live music. He’s warm and kind in a way that no-one in this business is. And he is often convincing enough that you let him drag you by the hand to these frivolous excursions. And every time, every new treat he sticks in your mouth, every live song he twirls your clumsy teetering feet to, you can feel the way he presses on your barriers gently like thumbs on an eggshell, fracturing you beautifully and plucking off one fragment of your exterior at a time. As if there’s something worth seeing in the yolk of you.

And, well. You fucked him.

It was unexpected and hot and quick and in the dark, neither of you even fully undressed.

You— the person who cringes about sitting next to a stranger at a bar, fucked Poe.

You blame it on the chemicals, the adrenaline. You’d nearly been caught by a Rep, dirty orange-suited fuck had you on the ground, pinned, hands behind your back and you nearly blacked out from panic. Poe was wild, shouting at the Rep detaining you to “get the fuck off of her, don’t touch her!” and headbutting the Rep cuffing him, it was all such a blur, but when you came to, Poe was wild eyed, hands hovering over you, holding back from checking your injuries, frantically asking if you were okay. You couldn’t help it. The fucking cortisol or whatever, the fight or flight— it made you jump into his arms. He tentatively held you and rocked you while you cried into his shirt. Reassuring you that it was all okay. The reps were gone, you were safe and “no one’s gunna lay a finger on you on my watch.” So… you crawled into his bunk that night. Fucking chemicals. In total darkness, kissing him with unsure lips, rocking yourself on his willing hardness to your simultaneous release, and climbing shamefully out of his bunk before you gave into the chance to fall asleep in his wide warm arms.

You were so fucking nervous the next day he would say something. And he’d be well within his rights too. You essentially used him. It took all your courage to sit next to him— in the co-pilot chair of the ship, hard to look at him, heart racing, guilty at how vulnerable you’d been the night before. Ashamed of how much of him you laid up bare against in the total darkness. You were sure that he wouldn’t ever take you seriously as a fellow runner after that. Not just the fucking, but the needing to be saved by him from the Reps, and the crying into his shirt.

Poe cleared his throat and started with a tentative, “so about last night—“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You dismissed him with a curt response, busying yourself with the control panel, rechecking the calibrations. From the corner of your eye you could see him nod once and give a simple, “ok.” And he dropped it. He didn’t assume to get too friendly after that, didn’t intrude on your space beyond the usual tiny touches; fingers grazing over cups of caf, a light touch on your shoulder if he needed to get into the supply closet while you’re crouched over the boxes of spare parts, determining your shopping list for the next supply run.

And it became a bit of a routine. On tough days… and on days that weren’t tough at all- climbing into his bunk in the swirling darkness of hyperspace, grabbing at each other quick and filthy, always leaving before sleep overtook you.

He always asks to taste you. He can’t shut up about it. You don’t even like kissing so much but you do it to keep his mouth busy, so he doesn’t get any ideas. Even kissing doesn’t stop his requests, He begs around your lips and into your mouth while you pump him with your hand, “Please, baby. Let me, let me taste you.” You shake your head even though you know he can’t see it in the perfect black of the hull.

You choose instead to line him up with you and sink down onto him in a now-practiced routine. His hands, so gentle and warm on your bare hips, not pressing you an inch further than you’d allow.

Being with Poe like this is like the way he dances with you; to live music on Nevaro- so aware of your body, aware of your comfort level. Only ever asking for permission, and only bowing back easily without it.

And maker is he consistent. Fuck. You’ve never cum so hard with anyone else or even by yourself. Which is… pretty incredible because you’d been absolutely convinced, before Poe, that by yourself was the best you’d ever have… he proves you wrong every time.

“Why do you leave right after? No pressure. Just curious.” He pants after your perfect release, kissing softly below your jaw, knowing that your mind is already out of the bunk.

You didn’t tell him it’s because if you leave before you fall asleep, you can pretend it’s all a dream. You can wake up and be the person you know yourself to be. And, maker, they way he lets you keep up the ruse in the waking hours, never forcing you talk about it or making dirty jokes or wiggling his eyebrows at you; It’s enough to endear you to him enough to keep coming back, night after pitch dark night, crawling to him like a phantom, taking exactly what you need and leaving without a trace.

It doesn’t feel real in hyperspace. Cutting through the fabric of space and time like that, leaping from one end of the galaxy to the other… if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If you make love to Poe in a place that neither exists in the fabric of space nor time, did it ever really happen?

You don’t tell him that, you pat his stubbly cheek and crawl back into your chilly bunk. Alone.

He never comes to you, putting the burden of ‘when’ on you always. It’s not exactly a burden though, and every time he feels the dip of the mattress under your knee when you hoist yourself into his bunk he lets out a pleased little “mmmm, baby”.

There’s no foreplay… sometimes you let him kiss your tits if he needs to get hard. But you’re mostly ready and raring and… it’s not passion, it’s not. Its just a release. It can’t be passion, it’s hardly even real.

He’s a good guy, he’s someone you can trust. And that shit is rare out here in the slug fields, the outer rim, and even rarer in your trade. It’s not typical for teams to last as long as yours has. But you can’t seem to shake him. The Pyke’s are pleased with your consistency- you figure that’s why they keep assigning you together and you’re so grateful Zorii isn’t on this run with you because she is… stressful. The only thing you miss about her is her willingness to be the emissary to Kessel when you land for the spice pickup. Because Poe refuses. You’ve never pressed him, never demanded that he should take his fucking turn to pick up the supply. And it’s not like he’s ever told you that he won’t do it. He is just always seemingly busy with internal repairs every time you land on the fucking torture rock. You don’t call him out on it. Because he doesn’t call you out on your proclivities, your needs. He accepts them and you accept his. If this is his line, if he cant step on Kessel, then you’ll do it for him. It’s a small price to pay for the safe feeling you get with him at the control panel… and the safe feeling you pull from him in hyperspace.

The droids have finished loading the supply by the time you buckle in next to Poe. A rusted S1-D6 in a burlap cloth, tapping the side of the ship and giving you a broken and rusted thumbs up from the viewing port. Maker this place is fucking depressing. Your lips form a tight line and you nod at the droid.

Poe’s face is grim as he types in the coordinates for-

“Tattooine?”

Poe doesn’t look at you while he fires up the engines and destabilizes the compressor.

“Yeah. We’re skipping the usual. This batch is going straight to the Daimyo.”

To the Daimyo? Not the Pykes. What the hell?

“And are we the one’s expected to make the trade?”

You’re not used to this, you’re used to dropping the shit to the syndicate’s establishments. You’re suppliers, not fucking drug dealers. Maker. You can’t even fucking speak Huttese!

Poe flips the internal power mode controls to manual and tells you simply, “yes.”

“I’ve never done that before. Made the trade. It’s not my thing.”

Poe sequences the auto-lift and gives you a reassuring smile, “I know. No one’s expecting you to do it. The Pyke’s gave it to me. Just let me do the talking Lex.”

“You speak Huttese?”

“Are you surprised?” He gives you a cocky smile and a wink. Ugh. No. You’e not surprised. He’s good at everything. It’s mildly irritating. Whatever. He’s probably not fluent.

You confirm the all systems command on your side of the pit and the ship rises easily. Leaving Kessel and all its fucking misery, maker you love to watch that planet get smaller and smaller until it’s a pinprick. Until Poe engages hyperspace and you’re in swirling blue. Neither here nor there.

“Is this some kind of promotion for you?” You’re suddenly struck by the idea that Poe might be promoted to something more stable. Maybe running a branch of the syndicate of his own. He could do it. He’d be perfect at it. You can see him now, with a team in a Cantina. Regulars, subjects, a unit to protect him… somewhere warm and bright. With all the teeming life a planet has to offer. You’d heard they’ve been looking for a Head on Nevaroo. And you know how much Poe likes their five-blossom bread and the band that plays at Greef’s most nights. Whatever. People come and people go. You get a new partner every few runs. And that’s the way you like it.

It’s honestly stupid he’s stayed a runner this long. Runner’s get paid flat shit for the most part. The Syndicate expects the runner’s to scrape a little spice off the top, you assume that’s why the pay is so bad. But a dealer… a dealer can set their own cuts. And the better they are at talking, the better cut they can get for themselves.

“A promotion? Don’t know.” Poe shrugs and unbuckles himself, he heads over to the radio transceiver, sits down on the floor beside it, and begins untangling the mess of wires you can only assume was done by an Anzellan with how tiny and convoluted the knots are. “Would be nice though, wouldn’t it? Be a dealer?” Poe smiles up at you and you don’t know how he’s able to make being a dealer sound like the most optimistic thing in the galaxy.

You unbuckle yourself and make your way over to the little stack of wires across from Poe, lowering yourself on crossed legs, you take a bundle of blue into your lap and begin to look for a place to begin. Maker, it’s impossible.

“What’s so great about being a dealer?” You mutter, finding the end of a wire and tugging hard till the threads all bunch up and you sigh in frustration.

“More money, for one. My dad could really use it.” Poe has mentioned Kes before. How badly the war affected everything in the Dameron household made you feel guilty for being so bitter. Poe lost his mother to the war, and his father has been trying to maintain their family aggregate business on Yavin with dwindling supplies and one bum leg. Poe had been there, helping him and then decided it would be more effective to send him money. Kes didn’t need labor, he needed parts. Parts for irrigation and tilling. And parts in this economy, when every scrap of metal is worth it’s weight in spice… well. There aren’t many entry level positions in the slug fields besides runner and miner.

“You’d be a good dealer.” You choose another wire to tug and the bundle seems to get more bunched with every pull you make.

“Careful, Lex. That sounded like a compliment.” He smiles at you and you note the way he untangles. He grabs the whole bundle in both hands and gently pulls from the center, stretching the cloud of string larger and larger, creating open pockets and widening the surface area of the previously balled clump. Loose wires fall out the edges of the mass and he rests it gently in his lap while he feeds the wire through the widened loops. You continue to tug and pull, getting into the tight knots with your fingernails and swearing every time you drop your bundle.

“Well, where are we going after Tatooine, then?” You ask, still concentrating on the bundle.

“Oba Diah.”

You scrunch your eyes closed and shake your head. “How was I kept out of the loop on this?”

“Well, I know how much you love talking to Crodit.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly. Love of your life. I talked to him before we left for Kessel. Orders came from Lom himself.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. They’ve got faith in us, Lex.”

“Faith in you, you mean.”

“Us.” Poe says seriously. “You know how rare it is to find someone as devoted to Keeping It Business as you, Lex?” Poe insists.

You don’t know how to take the compliment coming from him so you just look back to your bundle and pick at a particularly aggressive loop.

“I think it’s you they’re impressed with. Your— people skills.”

“We make one hell of a duo. You have to admit.” He taps your shoe with his. Tiny touches.

You can’t help the smile that burns your cheeks when you try to fight it. He’s right. He’s too generous with his compliments, but he’s right. Its why they team you up. You work well together.

“And neither one of us is scraping spice.”

Poe goes uncharacteristically silent.

“Right?” You question, letting your hands fall into your lap. The only sound is the buzzing of the fluorescents above you and the swirling hum of hyperspace.

Poe gives you a mischievous grin and shrugs his shoulders.

“Poe! You haven’t been scraping have you?” Fuck. That would be an unmitigated disater. God if the Pykes ever find out, you’re going to get more than canned.

“Not yet!”

“What do you mean, not yet?”

“Little Lex, do you know why we are going straight to the Daimyo?”

“Yeah, you just said- because Crodit-“

“Did you not get a good whiff of the shipment? Get a look at the color?”

“No. Not really” You busy yourself with the wire, unwilling to say you’ve never inspected it AT Kessel before, always waiting for after you boarded. Because you’re a fucking runner. If there’s something dodgy with the product, or there’s not enough, that shit is between Kessel and Lom… but, well fuck, if you had known you’d be dealing you would have taken a closer look.

“Fuck? Really?” Poe drops his half done bundle, (maker he’s so fast at that) and gets to his feet, slamming his hand to the port door and disappearing suddenly. You don’t have time to get anxious about the state of the product before he’s back and leaning on the far wall of the cockpit with a hand over his chest.

“Dammit, Lex. You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I-? Get up.” He snaps his fingers at you and holds out a hand for you to take. You toss your wire bundle to the side, barely a dent in progress, you take his warm hand and he hoists you up, still holding your hand- he leads you to the loading trunk. One of the cases is cracked open and you can smell the fucking thing from the other side of the hull.

“Shit that is strong!” You remark, the odor overtaking you. It’s a good smell. A great smell. You’re used to the permeation of spice but this smells different. Stronger. Better. And when you get closer you note the redness is unlike any Spice you’d seen before.

“Gorgeous, right?” Poe smiles and nods his head at the cracked case, “Go on, take a look. I know you didn’t do it at Kessel.”

You roll your eyes. If he’s going to give you shit for Kessel, he can pick up the next shipment himself.

You kneel down over the trunk and rub your finger instinctively over the deep blood red of the dust. The spice. It looks like extrait or something. Unreal.

“You know what that is?”

You shake your head, mesmerized by the color, the smell, the texture of it as you glide your fingertips over the fine, powdery surface. Regular spice is more of a dull orange and has a note of dust in the scent. But not this. It’s pure, whatever it is.

“Sansana.”

Your eyes widen, “All of it?” You indicate to all of the cases and Poe nods his head with a huge smile.

“All of it. And we,” he kneels down next to you and shakes your shoulder, “get to keep the dealer’s cut… if we talk it up with the Daimyo.”

Holy shit. A dealer’s cut on Sansana. Your family is going to be set for a while. Kes is going to be set too. Why you’re thinking about a man with a bum leg you’ve never met, who lives on a planet you’ve never been to, you’re not sure. … You might even be able to take a fucking vacation. To where, you don’t know, or really care.

Finally, that magic mouth of Dameron’s is going to do you some good. If he can get you 60%, maker, you’ll be happy as a clam on Mon Cala.

“I wanna try it though,” says Poe.

“What?! Try Sansana? Are you nuts?”

“What? When else am I going to get this opportunity? I gotta be able to assure the Daimyo he’s getting a quality product… plus Crodit kind of, well, it’s part of our deal. He said he couldn’t get me the dealer gig without dosing on Sansana. I gotta do it in front of the Daimyo too. As a cultural show of good faith.”

A cultural show of good faith?

“Crodit’s using you as a test-porg?!”

“Lex, it isn’t like that. I’m a big boy, I know what I signed up for.”

“So, let me get this straight… You’re going to the Daimyo, then you’re going to snort up Sansana, and then negotiate a deal? That sounds like a kriffing bad idea if you ask me.”

“No, Lex. WE are going to the Daimyo, I will negotiate, and THEN I will snort up Sansana…. In celebration of making a good deal.”

“I- Okay then. If that’s what Crodit says, if that’s what you say, I’m staying out of it. In fact, this is a much better idea than what I thought you were doing— scraping. Maker, that would have meant both of our heads.”

“I’ve got a proposition for you though, Lex.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, I want you to do it with me.”

“Do what?”

“Sansana.”

“In front of the Daimyo?”

“No, not in front of anybody but me. Back on the ship. In Hyperdrive. Nice and safe on our way to Oba Diah.”

“I’m not just going to do Sansana because you asked me to, Dameron.”

Poe inhales as if he’s about to say something and then pauses and nods. “That’s fair.”

“I’d consider doing it for credits.”

“Straightforward. I like that about you, Lex.”

You tip your forehead to him.

“What if we make it interesting? A bet.” He offers.

“I’m listening.”

“If I can get us an 80% dealer cut with the Daimyo… then you have to do Sansana with me.”

80 percent? That’s a no-fucking brainer. You could take a month long break on a fucking deserted island, soaking up sun and surf without a care in the galaxy. All for one hit of the most coveted Spice in the fucking galaxy. Duh. “Deal!”

“Wait wait wait, not so fast, little Lex.”

You prop your hands on your hips, “Of course there’s a catch.”

“You have to do Sansana with me, and… you have to let me eat you out.”

He’s never talked about it before, never brought it up. Only ever when you’re both naked in the dark with the only thing illuminating you being the swirling blue of space-travel. Never like this though: staring at each other face-on with the fluorescents overhead. He must see the way you gulp.

“We can do it in the dark if you want. I’ll even close the port-shade so there’s no light at all… I just want to taste you.”

You gulp again and stare at his mouth then. Would it really be so bad to… let him…. Lick you? I mean, maker he’s obviously hard up for it, including it on his end of the bargain. Everything about it is win-win-win all around as far as you’re concerned.

Maker, just looking at him is making your kriffing head spin. What are the terms of the bet exactly? If he gets more than 80 percent: you get money, a possible vacation, a dose of sansana, and Poe’s face between your legs; and thats all if HE wins the bet.

If you win, and he doesn’t get over 80% you get… a regular dealer cut and life as usual, plus soberly babysitting a spiced-out Poe on your way to Oba Diah. God it seems like an easy yes, so why the fuck is it so hard to say it?

Poe, noting your continued silence puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Lex, you don’t have to. I’m going to try to get us that 80% cut no matter what. I just thought I’d…”

“Spice things up?” You offer with a smile.

Poe laughs. “Yes. So, what’s the verdict?”

You purse your lips and nod. “I’m in.”

“Attagirl!”

“But only one hit!”

“Hey, I won’t force you! You do as much— or as little as you want.”

Poe scoops a small palmful into a leather pouch and sets it on the shelf next to the cracked case.

“You sure they won’t notice a scrape?”

“This much?” Poe holds up the pouch with laughter in his eyes. “Honey, a calibrator droid wouldn’t know this much was missing.”

“Just trying not to die, Dameron, that’s all.”

“I respect that, Lex. I really do.”

Poe closes and secures the cracked case and offers his hand to you, helping you up. Both of your palms are dusted in enough red to land you in Rep prison for life and when you rise up on your feet your face is nearly close enough to kiss him. He lets go of your hand, slowly dragging the red grit between your fingers and he turns to step back into the cockpit. His palm leaves a print on the white keypad and the earthy-red tone of the smudge doesn’t match the ship at all. It's glaringly natural among the sterility. You find a spare rag to wipe it clean. Maker what have you signed up for?

END

~~~

only tagging those who interacted with my asking post because Poe being a spice runner is a very sensitive topic.

@paper-n-ashes @ozarkthedog @samsspade @itsmypersonalagenda @lovers-liability @littlemousedroid @tasmdd @d1rtysna1l @takenbyheartstrings @ophelialoveshandsomemen @silkzomi @spider-starry @cottagebunny9 @rosie-jane @enichole445 @maskjunkie @pri00r @randomcuboidshape @mstgsmy @strxwberrymoonstar @mysweetandsaucy @obiwanshusband @lily-lilli @lemongingerart @3-14123 @stormkobra-5 @laters-gators

#Poe Dameron x reader #Poe Dameron x you #Star Wars fan fiction #Oscar Isaac

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naiatabris · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday!

Still thinking about modern AU Gale! Here he is at a faculty mixer--this is my twist on the canon scene when the player character sees him conjuring Mystra's image.

_________________

To hide his nerves about approaching a stranger for a chat, Gale reached for the phone in his pocket, pretending he’d just received a notification. But his stomach fell when he saw that he did, in fact, have an alert on his lock screen: A recent news item about Mystra Ryll.

Gods, I need to turn that news alert off.

But he could no more stop himself from looking at it than he could stop himself from grimacing at the syrupy taste of the cheap wine.

It was a puff piece in the Waterdeep Weekly, an account of a public lecture Mystra had recently given at the Museum of Magical Antiquities. But it had a very flattering photo of Mystra giving her talk, gesturing with her laser pointer in hand, that familiar cool smile on her face. She was wearing a new suit, a trim gray skirt with matching blazer, and her hair and makeup were flawless. She did not look like someone who’d just been through a brutal breakup.

Or, more specifically, she didn’t look anything like Gale, who was wearing a purple sweater a full size too large for him and last year’s pair of glasses.

“I will never understand why you wizardry experts are so fascinated with that woman.”

Startled, Gale looked up. A half-Drow woman in a sharply tailored blue blouse and black slacks was looking over at him, an amused expression on her face as she took in the photo on his screen. A coppery mask of scales covered her forehead and cheekbones, marking her as the descendent of a draconic bloodline.

Mortified, Gale tucked the phone away. “Well, she is one of the greatest minds of her generation,” he said a bit defensively.

“Hmm. Maybe. But the quality of her papers seems to depend heavily on her coauthors,” the woman said dryly. “Then again, what do I know, I’m in Sorcery.”

Gale chuckled. The disciplinary rivalry between Wizardry and Sorcery was long and storied. Wizards liked to say that sorcerers ignored the theoretical fundamentals in favor of flashy new spells; sorcerers usually retorted that wizards only cared about reading magic, not actually doing it. “My goodness. Sorcerers read papers these days?” he said, trying just a bit of light teasing in reply.

The woman smiled—a genuine smile, one that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. “It’s a recent development. I just learned to read over the summer.” She stuck her hand out. “Alys Towerfell.”

Ah. Here it comes. Gale took the hand and shook it. “Gale Dekarios.”

#my writing #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 gale #modern AU #bg3 modern AU

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arisatominakos · 7 months

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BALDUR'S GATE 3 OC LINEUP; this is a glorified tag dump post for my idiots thus far. may get updated in the future with other ocs & if so it will be reblogged to showcase those changes. under the cut will be basic character introductions & they will be in order.

Rylla: wizard spell sword, high elf, genderless( all pronouns ) bisexual, neutralish, 27yo everyone laugh at the youngest member of the party haha

Rylls is my main "Tav" which is the player character. full name: Idrylla Rhea Dhwani Crisanta. they are unmotivated, burntout, tired, & p much going thru the motions. she's the eldest out of like 7 and the first in like a generation or two of elves in her family to be magically inclined so his parents rlly pushed for parentification as a help w/ the kids since her family are fishing merchants, but got sent to study at a wizarding guild schoolesc thing in Baldur's Gate where the fam is from all around. pushed to be the top of their class and the like first apprentice to the head wizard he got framed for attempted murder by a jealous rival and got tossed in jail with a two day pardon to run home and grab a journal that would prove her innocence only to find out her fiance, now ex fiance, had been cheating on them and threw out all their stuff hearing rylla was in jail and was like OH LOL WHOOPS on the way to the dump is when this jackass got abducted by mind flayers like u cant have a more worse day than rylla bc the next day was allso when he had to pay his mortgage taxes so like all that and u still gotta pay bills anyways everyone in camp wants them carnally but rylla does not romance anyone, however he does have a connection with gale that is strictly platonic. rylla is a prodigy & a spell sword

Frye: warrior, mesophlieseses tiefling, he/him cismale home of sexual, somewhat lawful good. or at least he tries, 87yo

Frye Ravensworn is from Baldur's Gate, a oathbroken paladin former flaming fist. after an accident that cost the lives of several innocents he lost faith in the order & left, turning to a life of mercenary work. after feeling as if he wasn't making any difference he "retired" to establish a popular tavern known as The Devil's Fyre( pronounced fire unlike his name Fry-ee bc hehe get it he thinks hes hilarious ) anyways he's Rylla's best friend they have been pals for ages and she usually comes to him when they need to bitch about their life. he does enjoy being a bartender and listening to others rather than being constantly asked about stories of his own adventures. it's rylla that makes him feel as he did when he was younger, having a purpose reigniting that love for life & hope in people once more so when Rylla was taken by mind flayers he picked his sword back up and closed the tavern to set out to find rylla's stupid ass knowing the next time he sees them they could be a mind flayer but at least rylla would die by a friends hand. it's in act 2 we find Frye, at the last light inn helping the harpers & flaming fist protect the tieflings from the shadows. upon seeing rylla he scoops her up & squeezes him so tight one could swear their bones popped. Frye serves as a paladin option to recruit like how mi/thara is, but for like the ~good~ route basically. Frye romances W/yll !

Carnation: druid with a class i made up called underdark druid its got bits of spore shadow sprinkled in but she can grow n manipulate crystals ! bc they are the fauna of the underdark :), auvryrahel drow, she/her cisfemale, violencesexual, evil. fucking evil. dark urge !, 134yo

a hot pink bitch named breakfast. our favorite cult leader. last name Vasiira. raised in the underdark with a small clan of underdark-druids deep under the earth while i forgot to add her mom to this screencap dump, Momma'Nation, Trielthrae was one of the many exiled loth-drow that formed this little village of which the clan of druids lived, wanting to change the stars of her peers & sick of loth's rule--- she beseeches the gods to grant her a child that would be blessed in their light, to become a holy savior & change the world for her, her village, for the drow, & for everyone. bhaal read that text & answered, requiring a unholy communion of which Trielthrae gladly gave leaving her with a miraculous pregnancy. enter our little anti-christ, our cute little princess. our beautiful Carnation who was beloved & welcomed by the village with open arms. she wants power, she wants fame, she wants clothes, she wants devotion. the village quickly & completely submitted to her whims wants & needs. bhaal lends her some of his grand power, as technically she is a bhaal spawn. its just complicated. mind flayers took her from the shores of the dark lake, this is the first time she has been outside of the underdark & once she saw the night sky at camp she wept in it's beauty. she romances as/tarion, ascendant. he sees her as a equal as she denies bhaal, stealing his power for herself & manipulates the nether brain for her own gain becoming akin to a god. she will not end her conquest until she becomes a god wholly. auvryrahel is the name of the specific village / noble house that makes up carnation's cult.

Luella: cleric, but its complicated :), auvryrahel half-drow, she/her bisexual cisfemale, her morality is whatever carnation wants, ageless

undead half-drow handmaiden to Carnation Vasiira. she acts as a nanny, a nurse, a sister, a caregiver, a friend, a confidant, & a puppet. raised from death by Carnation's mother when her daughter was only but six years old via a powerful spell that grants this undead what's left of her fractured soul & a lifespan that allows her to live as long as Carnation wills her to, Luella is devoted completely to her charge. she lives, literally, only to serve her mistress--- having left the underdark in search of her beloved flower when Carnation goes missing after a rare nautiloid sighting near the dark lakes.

G'waine: kith'rak ranger, githyanki, she/they nonbinary lesbian, chaotic good but the good is like for the good of the githyanki not you. fuck you as far as she's concerned, 38yo

UTENA COMPLEX, PRINCE OF THE CRECHE. kith'rak g'waine, a captain of her creche boldly named draa'zvir--- dragon's breath. a warrior of fine make & groom, the pride n joy of her creche the youngest to make captain in it's long history. a skilled warrior, a even better strategist she is calm collected but never cold. a proper leader in the making to eventually take over creche draa'zvir or would have if not captured by mind flayers during the chase of the nautaloid alongside lae'zel, attempting to strike down mind flayers at they attacked other gith. because of this word returned of her capture to her creche & they moved to mourn her as if she were already dead. the fallen dragon prince & the tale of noble, but foolish, sacrifice to save her gith comrades and kill the ghaik invaders. has a bit of a resemblance to a frog & was teased as a child as 'the frog prince' until her merits outshined all her sought to demean her. also she killed them as is her right. romances lae'zel & has a hellva complicated time about the whole orpheus thing. voss knows g'waine, actually a lot of the creche u visit knows them too.

#farllee.ref: rylla #farllee.ref: frye #farllee.ref: carnation #farllee.ref: luella #farllee.ref: g'waine #farllee.jpeg #farllee.ref: oc post

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