#series: meet me on the battlefield | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

juletheghoul · 2 months

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crossing the line

a/n: I have been possessed by this man, he has singlehandedly cured my writers block. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for joining in the hysteria with me, thanks for cheering me on my love Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus jerking it so right, creampie, vaginal fingering, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.1k

reblogs are appreciated

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Maybe someone else would have been upset to see how little they owned in the world, but it made no difference to you. The tunic on your back, an extra one to swap out for cleaning, a shawl, and a pair of sandals. That was all you had, that was all you needed, not much to fill your new quarters, modest as they were. Only let you get accustomed to your duties all the quicker.

You held no melancholy at having been sold into the service of another, it was the story of your life and had happened before. You had no doubts that it would happen again. Instead, you focused on learning the layout of the new villa that would be your home, on learning the moods of your new Dominus and praying to the Gods that he was not heavy handed with his slaves.

You’d been purchased by none other than Marcus Acacius, the General of the army of Rome.

Getting used to being in his presence took great effort, meeting his gaze was akin to being struck by lightning. He had the unique power to make your stomach roil like waves, but it wasn’t always an entirely unpleasant feeling. He was older, his hair streaked with gray and his face lined with age but it did nothing to diminish his beauty, or his prowess. You could almost believe he was a marble statue, an Emperor of the past, come to life. He’d caught your eye instantly.

Months passed, then a year, and you did indeed learn his moods. You learned all about his needs and did well to anticipate his wants, so much so that eventually, he had you follow him around like a shadow. Your prayers had been answered, although his moods could get quite dark, he never raised his hand to anyone in his service. He had no need to. He could correct any misstep with a look. There was a cloud that loomed over him though, an intensity, an air about the man of bottled energy. Any words he did speak were short, and cut to the heart of the matter and despite the fact that he never hurt you or the others, you thought it might only be a matter of time before someone got the brunt end of his misplaced wrath.

“He has been away from the battlefield for too long, pay him no mind. Do your duties, and he will settle.” One of the older women in the house noticed the way you wring your hands at his dark temperament, seeing her unbothered by it did much to calm you.

You didn’t notice it at first, but more and more often you felt his eyes linger on you. Felt him follow as you set the table with his meals, when you helped him dress in the morning, more still when you helped him with his night time rituals. He was unabashed and unrelenting, his eyes traveling the length of you, lingering on the swell of your breasts when you stood before him, on your backside when you walked away. You knew the look, had seen it in countless men in the houses you’d served before. You’d seen on the boy that served with you when you were both coming to the age of such things, when young men stretched and grew overnight, and girls flowered, breasts blossoming and blood coming at the turn of the moon. You had seen it in the young man that had taken your chastity, fumbling at your tunic when everyone had gone to sleep.

At first it had shocked you, not because of some notion of propriety or disgust, this was something that happened in every house. The Dominus was there to be served, no matter what they wanted, it came with your station in life, what shocked you, was how welcome his gaze was. How much you relished his heated stare, how much you wanted him to look at you, always. He’d been the object of every heated fantasy you’d had since stepping foot in the house but you’d been under the impression that he was a solitary creature, uncaring for the company of anyone, except his hounds, two great big beasts that he doted on. He never pressed the matter however, and so you contented yourself with your dreams.

He’d been gone most of the day, leaving you to help the other attendants with their duties, and the time passed quickly, and with the moon rising you thought it best to go to sleep–trusting that by this hour, surely he’d be staying put. With your own clothes washed and hanging to dry for the morning, you settled into bed. It was not to last however, one of the older women came through not long after you’d undressed and gotten into bed and announced that he’d arrived, looking for you.

“God’s be damned.” You swore under your breath, “Gratitude, I will see to him shortly.”

You had no choice but to put on one of the damp tunics, hissing at the frosty touch but running off to tend to him just the same.

With a light knock to announce your presence, you entered his private chambers.

“Apologies Dominus, I had thought you would be gone until the morning.” You bowed your head in deference to him, “Shall I fetch food and wine? Or will you be going to sleep?” His eyes were narrow slits, fixed on your body. You looked down to where he stared and noted that the wet fabric left nothing to the imagination. The dark patch of hair between your legs was clear as day, as was everything else. “Apologies Dominus, I had washed them when I thought you would be gone.” You stood there, the room pregnant with tension as he looked his fill. After what felt like hours, he looked up to your face and the expression made your nipples harden, a fact he did not miss.

“No, Girl. I am not hungry.” He set about undressing and you hurried to help him, doing your best to keep your touch from lingering too long. “I will cleanse and go to sleep. Snuff out some of these candles, and be off to bed.” His voice was low, and it opened a river between your thighs, the arousal for him so sharp it ached.

“Yes Dominus.” You did as he asked, leaving only a couple of candles burning near his bed, and leaving him there. You were just closing the door to your quarters when you realized his basin had not been filled, so you ran back to make sure he had the water he needed. It would have to be cold at this hour.

This time, you did not knock, hoping that he’d still be preoccupied enough that you could just slip in, fill his basin and slip out.

There was a slick, rhythmic noise that greeted you, along with a low, guttural groan. His chamber was darker without as many candles but the sight that greeted you was clear as day, and would forever be burned into your mind. Him, bathed in candlelight, his cock thick and shiny with his pearly arousal.

His strength could never be denied, but like this, with his arm flexing with each long stroke, his muscles glinted. You’d seen all manner of people nude in your service, there was no shame in it. The human body was a work of art and growing up and giving into desires meant you’d seen men nude and ready to rut, but this was something else. The young men you'd been with were callow boys. This was a man.

You stood there, frozen, and aching with an emptiness you hadn’t felt this keenly in so long.

He felt you then, and looked up to see you watching him and before you could say anything he focused on the place so clearly visible through the wet fabric between your legs and moaned a filthy moan. You didn’t know whether to drop the jug of water and run, or mount him like you would a wild horse. You bit your lip, willing him to beckon you forth to him.

“Did you come back just to torment me, girl? Or would you lend a hand?” He watched your face, letting you decide what you wanted, you put the jug down and walked towards him.

“I live to serve you, Dominus.” His brow furrowed with every step you took until his face tipped up to look into your eyes.

“Take that off–” He grunted the last word, squeezing his cock in his fist while you obeyed. “Put your foot right here.” He gestured to the spot beside his thigh, and you did. “Spread it open. I want to see it.” He watched your sex, his mouth opening in a silent ‘O’ when you complied. “Are you wet for me, girl?” He sped up, fucking his fist in earnest.

“Yes Dominus.” You slipped your fingers down, dipping them inside for a moment before showing him. He moaned again and your heart felt like a hummingbird in your chest. He grabbed at your fingers with his other hand and shoved them into his mouth, eyes closed and groaning around them and it was almost too much.

“Take it Dominus, take me.” You whispered, watching his rapturous gaze with unwavering desire. You had no time to think, because within a second, he was up and pushing you down onto his bed, settling between your spread thighs. His sex hung heavy, an angry red and for a moment your stomach dropped imaging it inside you.

“This will be quicker than I would wish it to be,” He grasped himself in hand, almost trembling as he lined himself up and sunk inside with one, quick thrust. “Gods above, girl, this little cunt was made for me.” He couldn’t hold himself back or give you time to adjust to his size, instead he set a brutal pace, and you held on, with arms around his neck and legs high on his hips for dear life.

Your fingers ached with how tightly they gripped the curls at the base of his skull. You pulled him closer, needing to feel his weight as he stretched you open on his length, over and over, making everything bounce with the force of it. He was right about it being quick though, a handful of pumps was all it took for him to seize up, one hand palming your breast as he seized with a growl. You felt it, the spurt of him deep inside.

“It is a gift, my gift.” He watched himself, hissing with discomfort as he pulled himself out. “My seed, just for you.” His breath came in pants as he drew himself out, softened and spent and you were struck again by his beauty. With the flush of exertion blooming on his cheeks, and the rare smile on his lips, you couldn’t help but mirror the expression, even as your own climax slipped away with every passing second. “Your turn, now I must see pleasure on your face.” He huffed out the words before laying on his side to your right, resting his head on one hand to gain a better view of you spread out beside him.

His fingers found the source of divinity between your legs.

“Spread those pretty thighs nice and wide for me, girl, I would have access to all of you.” He spoke low, pressing his lips to your temple as his fingers used the slip of his own mess to stoke the fire spreading through your veins. “So lovely.”

The reverence in his tone was so at odds with the confidence in his fingers, his skill was no tawdry thing and within a few moments the euphoria was so close you could taste it. You turned your face to him, silently begging for his mouth and he obliged, his kiss sweet as summer wine and all at once the wave crested. Your legs closed of their own accord, but this only bolstered him to slip two fingers inside, pumping through his seed and your liquid desire, laughing softly at the way you clutched at his arm.

All of the times before, had been a jest. It was hard to know if anything you felt before could even be called pleasure.

“Can you walk?” He pressed his lips to your shoulder, lowering them until he took a nipple into his mouth. You nodded.

“Yes Dominus.” He placed a final kiss to the soft skin of your breast, the whiskers on his face tickling you.

“Very well, off to bed.” The smile was gone, but it was replaced with a sleepy, satisfied look, one that you were sure would be gone in the morning.

“Yes Dominus.” You rose, on shaky legs, grabbed your damp tunic, and slipped out of his chambers.

—

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #general marcus acacius #Marcus acacias x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #the general

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enviedear · 2 months

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⊹ ࣪ ˖ got what i wanted, but it's never enough for me

⤷ jacaerys velaryon ⊹ ࣪ ˖

౨ৎ synopsis— battletorn and bruised, you’re one sword swipe away from death when jacaerys finds you. if the wound searing into you isn’t causing enough annoyance, then surely your prince’s reprimanding will.

౨ৎ warnings— w@r, injury, canon divergence (isn’t it always), brat!jace (he’s so stressed, he’s taking it out on reader sorry), bastard!velaryon!reader, arguments, reader isn’t fully trusted by team black. 2.1k words

request ⊹ series masterlist

your entire body sears with pain, not at all akin to anything you've felt before. above you are the sounds the roars of dragons, around you the sounds of dying men. moaning and weeping, praying and making peace—it drills an ache deep into your skull.

you glance down at your torso, wincing when you see the large chunk of armor missing. gritting your teeth, you brace before pressing your fingers to the exposed flesh underneath the gnarled metal. your armor has left deep scrapes along your side, the patch of flesh filed down to the very muscle.

with great effort, you rise, fingers still pressing into your own wound. the sword at your side is sheathed, afraid your arms could not beat to hold it any longer. there's a white cast across your vision, a chill to your flesh.

you wish immediately to have stayed atop vermax with jacaerys. you have no doubt that he is handling himself with grace, every bit the deliberate warrior prince he's described. yet here you are, grounded and wounded— haunting a maelstrom of a battlefield.

you shut your eyes momentarily trying to steady your mind at the very least. it provides no aid.

you're the bastard of a dead man, what use is masquerading as if you won't inevitably meet the same fate. you still sense the slightest bit of contempt from the queen, court meetings often ending before you can speak— her eyes watching you, as if daring you to break out of line.

sometimes, you truly want to, to step into the role of 'master of complaints', but this is war. you funnel all resentments into your fighting. the words you want to spew at the roundtable reshape into the cuts tore into each of your foes.

vaemond velaryon could afford his grips until he couldn't, and it seems his daughter will do the very same. you began too incensed, angered at a comment by the prince.

jacaerys shares his mother's unease of you. rightfully so, you are a bastard to the man who sought to revoke the late prince lucerys’ title. your allegiance to her grace has never wavered. you are and will always be, a faithful servant to the crown. your own mind far different than your father's.

perhaps that is why the prince's comment etched itself so deep within your heart.

like always, the dragonpit had been scarce for company. entering only to be met by the prince and one of the keepers.

“my prince.” you had greeted, bowing your head slightly until he had addressed you in return. tasked to ride out with him as the head of your secondary regiment, you nervously approached his dragon.

“my lady.” his voice had been sharp, albeit princely. “vermax is ready, we’ll leave shortly.”

he had turned from you right after to whisper something to the dragonkeeper, his hands on the grip of his sword. he had looked back at you one last time before mounting his dragon.

you neared, “i have never had the privilege of a dragon ride. anything to note, my prince?” your words had been meant to ease any tension but when the prince simply offered out his hand without reply, you began to second guess your choice.

jacaerys helped you upon the dragon's back, and you took your place behind him. there was a long pause before he replied, his muscles taut, “keep your hands here,” his own hands directed yours toward ropes attached to the saddle. then, whispered and almost indiscernible he added, “and away from your blade.”

that's why you fled, as soon as vermax dipped low enough toward the battlefield— you jumped. you forwent the ease of watching the battle from above for the challenge that is an open combat. it was easy at first to guard off attacks on foot. but you must have made it look a bit too easy, as swarms of knights threw hits your way, you're lucky all they managed is the gory gash at your side. your life remains, slowed and tense, but there regardless.

you catch your breath, shallow and uneven, pushing through the blinding discomfort. Determination fuels you, and it is the only thing propelling you forward. the chaos of the battlefield doesn't pause, doesn't show mercy, and neither shall you. the prince's words still echo in your mind, a bitter reminder of your place in this war. let it be a foolish wish, but you want more than anything to rise above the mistakes of your father.

your eyes scan the area, seeking any sign of jacaerys, but the prince and his dragon are nowhere to be seen. you grit your teeth, frustration mingling with worry. you can't afford to think about him now. survival comes first.

a sudden movement catches your attention, a knight of the usurper is charging toward you, sword raised high. you reach for your own weapon, but your fingers barely grasp the hilt as he nears. the knight's blade descends, and you scarcely manage to roll out of the way, pain flaring in your side. you stumble to your feet, using every ounce of strength to stay upright.

with a desperate lunge, you unsheath your sword, parrying the knight's next strike. your movements are sluggish, each one sending jolts of agony through your body. but you fight on, deflecting blows and striking back with whatever strength you can muster.

the knight's eyes are wide with surprise as you hold your ground, and in a moment of hesitation on his part, you find an opening. you drive your sword into his stomach, feeling the resistance as the blade cuts through armor and flesh. the knight falls, a choked gasp escaping his lips.

you lean on your sword for support, breathing heavily. the battlefield is a blur of motion and noise, but you force yourself to stay focused. you can't afford to falter now, so close to breaking through their lines.

the taste of blood is on your tongue, metallic and bitter. you don't know if it's yours or someone else's. the battlefield is a mess with death, every step a reminder of your own fragile mortality. you press forward, each step an exercise of sheer willpower.

a roar sounds overhead, louder than the fighting below, and you look up just in time to see vermax swooping low, flames spewing from his maw. jacaerys is astride him, his expression fierce and determined. for a moment, relief washes over you, but it is quickly replaced by the realization that you are in the path of his attack.

you dive to the side, narrowly avoiding the scorching heat. the fire engulfs the enemy soldiers ahead of you, their screams piercing the chaos. you struggle to your feet, the adrenaline surging through you, numbing the pain.

jacaerys spots you and directs vermax to land nearby. he dismounts swiftly, eyes scanning you critically.

"you're hurt." he forces out, voice tight with concern.

"i'm fine, my prince." you manage, though it's clear you are anything but.

he steps closer, his hand reaching out to steady you, "you shouldn't have jumped. you would have been safe."

"you did not want me there.” you snap back, the hurt from his earlier words still fresh.

jacaerys recoils at your harsh words, his eyes flashing with dismay, "my words were reckless," he says, trying to defend himself. "i was anxious... but i never want to see you hurt."

you stare at him, torn between anger and gratitude, "that moment may have passed us, my prince. perhaps you could help me instead by finding a way out."

jacaerys nods, his focus shifting back to the battle ahead. "we need to reach the castle's gates. there's a concealed passage that will get us through to our own lines."

you swallow, the pain in your side flaring up again. "i can't go on like this. you need to ride vermax back to the lines yourself and get help."

jacaerys shakes his head, his face set in determination. "i won't leave you behind. we'll make it together, just as we promised the queen."

with renewed urgency, he helps you move forward. the city gates loom ahead, a beacon of hope in the midst of chaos. but your strength is fading fast, every step more difficult than the last.

"almost there," jacaerys murmurs, his voice a lifeline. "just a little further."

you nod, clinging to his words. the gates draw nearer, and you can see the secret passage jacaerys mentioned. it's a narrow opening, just wide enough for the two of you to slip through.

jacaerys helps you inside, the walls of the passage providing some relief from the battle outside. he guides you through the dark, winding tunnel, his hand steady on your arm.

once inside, the confined space seems to press in on you, amplifying every breath, every heartbeat. the flickering torchlight casts long shadows, making the passage feel even more claustrophobic.

"you shouldn't have jumped." jacaerys echoes his earlier words suddenly, breaking the tense silence. his voice is blunt, riddled with frustration.

"i couldn't stay." you retort, your own temper flaring despite the pain. "not after what you said."

"i had one moment of unease!” he snaps back, his eyes flashing with anger. "do you have any idea how dangerous it was to go off on your own? when i am meant to protect you.”

"protect me?" you scoff, your voice rising. "by treating me like a traitor? alluding that i, of all people, would gore you in the back?"

"i was mistaken, my lady.” he admits, his tone drops but his ill-temper shines through, your weak title sounds foreign on his lips. "but you made it all worse by acting so carelessly."

"carelessly?" you laugh bitterly. "i was proving something. i am not my father, jacaerys. i have never challenged you or your mother." you drop his title, speaking to him as a peer now, "i deserve to be here."

"and your demonstration nearly got you killed!" he shouts, the sound reverberating off the walls. "do you think that would have proven anything?"

"maybe not," you reply, your voice shaky with emotion. "but at least i would have died fighting. an honorable death."

jacaerys steps closer, his expression fierce. "i do not wish you to die." he says, voice low and intense. "i need you alive. we all do."

"then stop doubting me." you breathe out, words barely audible. "stop treating me like the enemy."

his anger dissipates, replaced by something subdued, more vulnerable. you’re completely unfamiliar with such a look upon his face, "it is not your loyalty i doubt, nor you. not truly." he says quietly. "i doubt my own ability to keep you safe... to keep this entire kingdom safe. this war has become utter perdition."

the confession takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you seem to feel the weight he carries, the burden of leadership and the fear of failure. your anger ebbs, replaced by tentative understanding. in all the years you’ve known the prince, never have you both been at such a state of understanding— albeit frail.

"jacaerys…" the name escapes your lips like a question. you reach out, almost instinctively, touching his arm lightly. his gaze meets yours, a mix of strife and resolve swirling in his eyes.

"i am sorry." he says, his voice a ragged edge of emotion. "i did not mean to contest you. i just… worry."

"i know," you reply softly, your own anger dissipating with each passing heartbeat. "i know you didn't. it's just the war getting to you, it muddles my head just the same."

silence settles like a shroud around you both. for a moment, the world outside the narrow passage wilts away, leaving you and the prince in this fragile sanctuary.

"we should keep moving," jacaerys finally breaks the quietness, his hand still lightly resting on your arm. "the passage leads to safety, to maesters."

you nod again, grateful for his steadying presence. together you navigate the dark tunnel, your body pressed against his. his strong hands never once leave you, providing constant support.

when you emerge from the passage and into the relative calm of your own lines, relief washes over both your features. people rush to tend to your wounds, their movements efficient and practiced. mostly blurs to you, head still pounding. jacaerys stays close, fingers pressing slightly into the pulse at your wrist.

"you need rest." he insists softly, his gaze beating down on you.

"and you need to go be the prince. go lead your men." you reply, not willing to let him linger over you while the battle still rages.

he hesitates, brown eyes flicking down to your wrapped wound, "promise me you will rest?" he finally requests, monotone.

"i promise." you assure him.

jacaerys nods, pulling away to attend to his duties. you watch him go, your mind a mess of emotions.

#strap in for some enemies to comrades to friends to lovers #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x you #jace velaryon #jace velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x you #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacerys targaryen #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #[.𖥔 ݁🐉 ˖]

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standfucker · 4 months

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Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Characters: Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Reader: GN (afab in Rosi's)

Word Count: 5.7k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches, sepsis

Summary: Continuing the series. Blackbeard's is more of a small bonus drabble that came to me, so his doesn't meet the 1k minimum I was shooting for in these. (And Rosi's went way over...)

Ao3 Link

Law

Your opponent is quicker than you're used to. As a cat mink, his reflexes are far better than yours. However, he fights unarmed while you use twin short swords, so you're able to keep some distance between you and even the playing field.

You tilt your head left to avoid his swipe, claws barely missing your face. Acting quickly, you return with a jab that pierces his armor and stabs into his shoulder. He hisses in pain and you grin–that's one arm he can't use anymore.

Your moment of confidence makes you slip up. Focused on the movement of his remaining arm, you're taken by surprise when he suddenly kicks one of your swords right out of your hand. He hasn’t used kicks at all until now, likely to catch you off-guard like this. Before you can recover, he follows up by thrusting his claws into your chest, digging in and unleashing electricity into your body.

Law looks over just in time to see you drop like a stone. “Y/n-ya!” he shouts–but you're unresponsive. He turns to Bepo, fighting by his side. “Bepo! Count to two, then kick as hard as you can where I am!”

Bepo, wisened to Law’s tactics, nods. “Aye-aye!”

Law flexes his fingers. “Room!”

The sphere of his power expands wide to cover the battlefield. He swaps places with the cat mink, hearing it yowl a moment later as Bepo’s foot connects with its gut. Grabbing your arm, he creates one more room from where he is and teleports you both to its perimeter, a safe distance from the fight. Aside from some bloody claw marks, he can't see major injuries.

“Scan!” Law calls, voice tinged with panic as his ability checks your vitals. To his horror, the scan of your body shows your heart has stopped entirely, and his own seems to follow suit. He quickly removes your heart from your body, holding it in his hand. Focusing, he runs his own electric current through your heart in a swift, measured jolt.

The muscle twitches once and remains still.

“No, no, come on.” Law tries again. Zap. No response. “Don’t you do this.” He tries again. Zap. And again, no response. “Come back.” Zap. Your heart is still.

This time, he uses both hands and runs a higher voltage, shouting, “Come back right now!” Your heart jumps–then, finally, starts to beat. The relief is almost nauseating.

Clutching your heart to his chest with one hand, Law tilts your jaw open with his other hand and seals his mouth over yours, delivering rescue breaths until he feels you start to breathe on your own.

Slowly, your eyes open, your breaths shallow but even. He's hovering right over your head, looking into your eyes. “Law?”

“Just stay still.” He runs another scan, making sure everything's running normally.

You try to get up, fighting the sluggishness of your body. “The fight–”

“It’s still going. Lie down.” Law pushes your shoulder, forcing you to recline.

“Then you need to go help them.”

“The rest of the crew has it handled. I'm not leaving you.”

You’re not sure what happened–everything went black while you were fighting–but whatever it was, it must have been bad if Law’s saying that. Still, you’re eager to rejoin the battle. “Am I going to die?” you ask stubbornly as you try to sit up again.

“Don't be ridiculous. I'd never let that happen. Lie down, Y/n-ya.”

Law doesn't let you fight. He doesn’t even let you get up, not until he's checked everything–blood pressure, oxygen level, potential blood clots, your ability to follow commands–and even then, he doesn't give you your heart back, stating he needs to keep an eye on it for a while “just in case.” The battle ends in victory, and you walk back to the crew with a square hole in your chest.

You don't know much about electric shock effects, but you suppose it's okay to make sure your heart hasn't been thrown out of rhythm. It is weird to go about your day with the hole in your body. And it’s weird to feel Law’s fingers around your heart. It’s difficult to describe–a sort of warm, sensitive, almost ticklish physical contact that you feel within your chest, despite it being outside your body. Every time Law picks up your heart, you’re aware. You don’t know where he keeps it, but it must be somewhere on his person; you feel it at random throughout the day or as you’re laying in bed at night. You can infer he stays up late, as you often fall asleep to the sensation of him holding it in his hand.

Throughout all those days, you’ve never felt more secure, never slept more soundly than when you do knowing he’s keeping your very heart safe by his side.

Every day Law does another exam, taking the time to run a scan on your body. It seems a bit excessive to you, but you’re not about to tell him that. You’re just grateful for the attention, truth be told. You and Law have been close for a while now, even exchanging some fond words in the rare moments you’re alone, but neither of you have the courage to risk damaging your friendship. But having him literally hold onto your heart makes you feel linked to him in a way you never have before, and it’s driving you insane.

“All clear?” you ask as Law finishes another scan.

“Yes, you look good,” he says, making your cheeks warm at the phrasing, “though, occasionally your heart rate picks up when you’re at a resting state. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I will.” He holds up your heart in front of his face, scratching his beard with his other hand as he thinks. “Like now.”

That answer is fairly obvious to you, and entirely his fault. Watching him inspect your heart so closely makes you oddly nervous. And he puts his hands on you during these exams, too, feeling lymph nodes on your neck and instructing you to breathe in and out while he listens to your lungs. What are you supposed to do? You can’t help it. It’s involuntary.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, there was a hole where your heart should be that only he could fill. But you don’t say that. You just mumble, “I feel fine.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.” Aside from some fatigue in the beginning, you’ve otherwise been back to normal. “What do you think? Can I have it back?”

He thinks for a second. “Alright, one more day, then, just to be safe. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t,” you say. “It’s weirdly comforting, to be honest.”

“How?” Law looks at you incredulously. “I could crush your heart in my hand right now.”

Of course that would be his perspective. The risk of trusting someone so intimately isn’t lost on him. But after all these years, you would easily trust Law with your life, so you simply shrug. “You wouldn’t break my heart, would you?”

He stiffens. Surely you didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but the way you say it–so earnestly, so innocently, looking at him with those big doe eyes of yours–he can’t help but feel a pang of longing. He desperately wants to protect you, to make right where he failed in the past. Law wants to reassure you, to bring you comfort that he hasn’t figured out how to give.

Instead, he says, “No.”

“Promise?” you ask softly.

“I promise, Y/n-ya.” Your heart beats faster in his hand. Law looks down at it, then at you, and there’s a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“Okay,” you say. If he’s finally figured it out, maybe…maybe this is your chance. “Prove it.”

“How?” He looks a bit shocked, and the way his eyes keep flitting between your heart and your face tells you that he knows exactly how.

You’re slow in your approach, and even slower when you put your arms around his neck, giving him plenty of time to back away. He’s uncertain, frozen in place, but if he wants you to stop, he isn’t saying so.

You lean in. Law closes his eyes. Your heart beats like crazy in his hand.

You kiss him. Just a brief, soft touch of your lips.

“Law,” you breathe. “Was that okay?”

Law responds by cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another.

Afterwards, he jokes that he doesn’t want to give your heart back. But that’s alright. Truth be told, he’d stolen it a long time ago.

Shanks

You return to consciousness through a cloud of black spots in your eyes, flashing in and out of your vision like raindrops on glass. It's immediately accompanied by the piercing whine of your ears ringing. You can’t hear anything else, nor can you tell where you are. A battle…you were pretty sure there was a battle.

The spots recede to the edges of your vision, and you can see a cloudy sky, filling with gray smoke. You’re on your back. Faintly, you can hear shouts, filtering in through the shrill whine. A few seconds later, your brain starts putting names to the voices. Yasopp, Benn, Shanks.

Your captain’s face fills your vision a moment later. Instantly, you know something is very, very wrong, because you’ve never seen Shanks look panicked before. It’s just not an emotion in his repertoire. Always cool, always collected, always joyful, until now. He’s shouting something–your name.

“–you hear me? Just hang on. Hongo’s on his way. Fuck, fuck!”

“...Shanks…” you rasp, dimly becoming aware of your body. “What happened…?”

“It’s my fault, I didn’t stop them in time, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

It’s distant, but pain starts trickling through your body. Dull, throbbing pain, everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying to raise your head to assess yourself.

“Don’t!” Shanks stops you with a hand on your forehead. “Don’t move.”

Gradually, you start remembering the battle. The chaos, the noise. Now, there’s no more sound except the ringing in your ears, so it must be over. You were fighting someone who specialized in explosives, that was it. That explained the hurt, and the confusion.

“I was hit,” you say slowly.

Shanks just nods, looking grim.

Benn appears on your other side, crouching next to you and frowning. You search his face for an idea of the damage, but he keeps it carefully still as he looks you up and down. Then his eyes meet Shanks’, and they exchange a look that gives you a bad feeling.

As the ringing dies down just a little and your vision clears, the pain grows. It’s distracting, more so than you’re used to, but what’s even more distracting is the particular lack of it where it should be.

“...Shanks?” you say. “I can’t feel my leg.”

His lower lip wobbles, and then his lips press together in a tight, thin line, and that’s when you know. You lift your head to try and see, but he stops you again. “Don’t look. It’s better if you don’t look.”

It’s funny–he looks like the one on the verge of falling apart. You hate to see him so distraught, so unlike himself, all his cheerful confidence vanished.

“It’s my left leg…” you say.

“Yeah...”

“That means we match.”

He smiles ruefully, tears breaking from his lash line and running free. “Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” you say, reaching for his hand.

He takes it gently. “That’s my line.”

Coping is a funny thing. You spend most of your energy post-surgery comforting Shanks. Not because he can’t handle it by himself, and not because he asks you too. It’s just easier to externalize the situation, to make it about his self-blame rather than address the gaping loss of your body.

Shanks tries to hide it from you, to not burden you, but you know him too well. Eventually, you get tired of how he drinks himself into a stupor most nights. You get tired of how your crutches irritate your armpits, tired of how you keep losing balance, tired of the phantom pains that shoot through nerves that aren’t there anymore. You snap at him. You shout. You cry that blaming himself won’t regrow your leg, so can’t he please just be there for you? You need him–you’ve always needed him–now more than ever before.

It’s an ugly, broken confession, but it finally reaches him.

Shanks pulls you in close and apologizes. His eyes are moist even though he’s not usually a crier, overwhelmed by what he’s put you through, overwhelmed that you’re finally admitting your feelings under such nightmarish conditions.

“I love you,” he whispers, over and over. “I love you.”

Healing is both easier after that, and yet harder. Now, with no distraction from your loss, you have to face it head on. It’s easier because he’s there. That he’s been through this before makes you cling to him more than you would have, surrounding yourself in the grim comforts of someone who understands. Shanks holds you tight on those nights when you scream “it’s gone,” over and over, lets you squeeze his hand when you have phantom pain, helps you shower when you can’t manage it by yourself, supports you on your first shaky steps using the prosthetic. The recovery journey is an arduous one, but you make it out the other side closer than ever before.

Years later, it’s something you can joke about without feeling that twinge of loss, especially when your crewmates call you and Shanks a complementary set. Now that you’re finally official with him and back to your full battle capacity, you can appreciate what happened to you for what it proved: that together, you and Shanks are complete.

Mihawk

You and Mihawk were opposite sides of the same coin. As different as you could be from each other, but still inexplicably connected as longtime rivals. Being warlords was the only thing you really had in common: He was a swordsman, you used guns; he sailed alone, you commanded a large crew; his colors of arms was better, your colors of observation was better. He preferred not to talk much, while you loved to egg him into trading banter. Many clashes with each other throughout the years solidified your strange, thrilling rivalry until you looked forward to the rare times you ran into each other.

Nowadays, you only really see each other during warlord meetings. So, when you were ambushed by your own crew, Mihawk was the last person you expected to save you.

He took out the four men holding you down, tossed you your pistols, and fought by your side. Your crew wasn’t weak by any means– you hand-picked them to sail with you–and had you been alone, you wouldn't have survived. With your combined strength, however, the battle was over quickly.

It surprised Mihawk, then, that you didn't stick around to bother him like you usually did. You fired a smoke round and disappeared. He figured that you were demoralized from the mutiny and didn't have it in you, but when the smoke cleared, he saw tell-tale drops of blood where you were.

Mihawk finds you in an abandoned shed not far from the battle. You're panting, hunched down against the wall and facing away from him, a first aid kit at your feet. He's as quiet as a cat when he approaches, but naturally you sense him anyway.

“How did you find me?” you ask without looking up.

“I followed the blood trail,” he says flatly. “You should have stemmed the flow before running off.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Did you tie a tourniquet first?” he asks, and even from there he can see you roll your eyes.

“Can’t. It’s not in the right place.” You raise shaky arms to your head, fiddling with something–stitches, most likely.

“Let me see.”

You glare at him for a moment, eyes uncharacteristically hard and angry. Then you quietly relent by turning, letting him see your other side. There’s a long, deep gash going from your temple down to your neck. Still oozing blood, he can't see for sure, but estimates it's gone down to the bone. You’ve got a few crude, clumsy stitches started in the top, the needle hanging from the wire, but without being able to see what you’re doing, it’s a piss poor job.

Mihawk wordlessly approaches you and crouches down, sharp gold eyes fixed on your wound. “It needs to be redone,” he says, unsheathing Kogatana and cutting through your stitches. You don’t so much as flinch when he pulls the wires out–you wouldn’t dare in front of him, he supposes. He’d likely do the same. Maybe you were more alike than he thought.

He takes the first aid kid from the ground and re-threads the needle, then starts to stitch your wound, pressing gauze to soak up the blood as he goes. “It's deep,” he says.

”That explains why it stings so bad,” you mumble. While you successfully resist the urge to wince, you can’t stop yourself from tearing up. “Man…”

“It could be worse. It went down to your skull, but the bone itself wasn't damaged.”

“What, are you trying to cheer me up?” You turn to look at him, but he tilts your chin back to the side and chides you to hold still.

You exhale harshly through your nose at the unpleasant sensation. “I hate needles,” you say suddenly. “I hate sharp things in general. The thought of a blade going through skin gives me the creeps.” He doesn’t respond, and you feel awkward, but you continue anyway, feeling the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. “I’ve teased you about using swords, but the truth is, I could never.”

Mihawk doesn’t pause in his stitching, only hums. “If it’s worth anything, I’m a terrible shot.”

The corner of your lip twitches up. It does make you feel a little better, to be honest.

You glance at the swordsman as he works. His eyes are always so much more intense up close. You used to find it unsettling, but right now, focused as they are on your wound, it just seems oddly endearing. You glance away, blinking quickly, and a tear breaks from your lash line.

When Mihawk pauses to wipe it away, it’s so fluid and unhesitating that you debate if it really happened at all. Warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you avoid looking at him.

“Hey, ‘Hawk,” you say.

“What?”

You stare at the ground carefully. “Why did you help me?”

He’s quiet for a while, perhaps thinking about his answer, perhaps just keeping up his mysterious image.

“You’re the only one who’s ever successfully shot me,” he finally says. “To think someone of your caliber would be taken out by such cowardly tactics doesn’t sit right with me.”

You let that sink in while he finishes his work, tying off the stitches and applying the bandages. It’s weird–all the times you’ve bickered, all the times you’ve fought with lethal intent, and yet you trust with all your heart that Mihawk won’t harm you right now.

You’ve let your guard down too much, you think to yourself. That’s how you missed the warning signs of your crew’s mutiny, that’s how you got injured in battle, that’s how you’ve let Mihawk get this close.

Even then, you find yourself leaning your head into his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb over your cheek.

The reality of what you’re doing hits you a moment later, and you quickly stand up, only for the world to spin and your knees to buckle.

Mihawk catches you easily. “You've lost a lot of blood.”

“It'll refill,” you mumble.

“In time. You need to rest.”

“Alright, alright,” you say. His hold is so secure, you kind of never want him to let go. Damn, you have lost a lot of blood. “I owe you for this, Mihawk. Somehow I'll pay you back.”

“How about dinner?” he asks, and you’re so caught off-guard that you stare owlishly.

“H-Hey, come on, now,” you say, but Mihawk has never really been one to joke. There's a crack in your confident demeanor. “Serious?”

“Serious.” He takes your hand, raising it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles.

Rosinante

“It’s not a fucking show,” you snap at the crew, crowded around where you are in the med bay of the Numenca Flamingo. Doflamingo is bent over the wound in your side, a string attaching his finger to the bullet still inside. Corazon holds your body down.

“You gonna scream?” Diamante teases cruelly, but you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that, huh, you sick–FUCK!” you shriek at the end as Doflamingo yanks out the bullet, body jerking against Corazon's iron grip. Diamante and Trebol both chuckle like the bastards they are, but Doflamingo waves them and the rest away as he moves in to disinfect the area.

You shiver, fighting not to tear up in front of the two of them. It is of the utmost importance not to show weakness around Doflamingo. After years of dedication and rigorous work, you’ve clawed your way into a promotion from a top Donquixote Pirate to one of the people in his Family.

It’s imperative, as an undercover Marine, that you don’t lose this chance. Your job is to support Corazon. You’d rather not cry in front of him, either, but that’s more about pride than anything else.

Doflamingo traces your hip as he finishes sewing you up with his string. “Buffalo said you took the bullet for Baby 5.”

You stiffen at his touch, an oddly soft contrast to the string that nonetheless makes you ill at ease. “Yes, Young Master.” Are you in trouble? You don’t want to act soft, but you couldn’t stand by and let a child get shot, either.

“I see,” he says, and you hold your breath. “I’d expect no less from someone I hand-picked.”

He pats your head once, then leaves the room, and relief courses through your veins alongside the adrenaline.

Corazon gives you a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t speak to you, of course–too risky. His voice is a distant memory at this point, all the way from back when you were in training together.

A few uneventful days pass as the crew sails back to base with their spoils. The pain in your side seems to spread to right below your gut, intensifying as it goes. The wound area isn’t red or swollen, so you realize you must have gotten your period on top of everything. Great.

You’re the unlucky type that suffers from hellish, unpredictable menstruation, the pain often debilitating enough to put you out of commission until it abates. It was easier to cover up back in the Marines, feigning illness, but you wouldn’t be granted such liberties in the pirate world. You've had to fight through the agony to keep up your appearance as a tough-as-nails pirate commander. It seemed you were being tested again, as now you had to resist while under watch of the Family.

The cramps continue to get worse by the day until you’re nauseated from the pain. You end up vomiting over the side of the ship more than once, which you claim is from eating bad food. You try everything to take your focus off the pain. Meditation, breathing exercises. But for some reason, it just keeps getting worse. There’s one day where it seems to slightly abate, and you go to bed believing you’re past the worst of it, only to wake up the next day in complete, room-spinning agony. Moving makes it worse, every time you go to the bathroom or help with the ship tasks it feels like you might pass out. You can’t get comfortable no matter which position you lay in, and you sweat like crazy even though it’s cold.

You’re shaky while you help haul in ropes, thoughts so consumed by how terrible you feel that you jump when Corazon taps your shoulder. He scribbles something on his notepad, then shows it to you.

‘You look like shit.’

“That obvious?” you ask, even as your guts and head both swim in a thick fog of pain. Corazon scribbles some more.

‘Your pain tolerance is high. This is unusual for you.’

“It’ll pass,” you respond, turning away from him. He starts writing letters on your back, something he does to make absolutely sure no one can read your conversation later through his notepad.

‘Worried.’

The guilt eats at you before he can even finish writing it. As Doflamingo’s right hand, Corazon has himself to worry about. You’re supposed to make his job easier, not be dead weight. So even though this is the worst it’s ever been, even though you just want to cry at how much it hurts, you steel yourself. You can’t crumble now. “I’ll be okay, Cora,” you dismiss.

Law stands at the foot of your hammock that night as you writhe, a curious Baby 5 next to him.

“What do you want, Law,” you grit out.

“List your primary symptoms,” Law says. You glance at him to see he’s holding a notepad and pencil. “Also, you should let me look at how your wound’s healing.”

“I don’t need the opinion of an eight year old,” you spit, the pain making you lash out. You’ve already looked at your wound, you’ve dealt with many in the past, and the area around your incision looks fine.

Law clenches his fists, irritated. “You’re being a real bitch.”

Baby 5 gasps. Law shoots her a glare that makes her whimper and hide behind your hammock. He mutters to himself as he storms out.

“Why don’t you tell someone if you’re feeling bad?” Baby 5 asks timidly once Law’s gone.

“Because,” you say, taking a deep breath to try to focus on getting the words out. “I don’t have a devil fruit. My haki abilities are rudimentary. I can’t fall behind, Baby 5. I want to be useful to the Young Master.”

“I don’t understand.”

“One day you’ll get cramps, and hopefully they won’t be this bad. But when it happens, you have to be tough and not let anyone know. It’s looked down upon by those who don’t get them. You’ll be left behind…”

“That’s gonna happen to me?” Baby 5 looks worried.

You try to reassure her that since she’s handled everything the adults have thrown at her thus far, she’ll be fine. Baby 5 doesn’t look convinced, but you don’t have it in you to care right then.

By the next day the pain is so searingly, blindingly intense that no amount of willpower can overcome it. You’re woken up by it, and this time it’s unmatched by all the previous days combined. It feels like someone’s poured molten lava into your guts. It feels like your organs are being ripped out of your body. Pressing a pillow into your gut gives you a fraction of relief, but even the slightest relief is like heaven when the pain is that bad–until you’re ripped back down, not to earth, but to hell, and it’s agony all over again.

Somehow, you manage to get out of your hammock, only to end up on your knees on the floor, holding your stomach and making pitiful noises.

Distantly, you get the sensation that Corazon is writing words on your back, but you’re so out of it that you can’t parse them.

“Need help,” you whimper, voice breaking.

Corazon sends someone to get Doflamingo, who has Law assess you. After taking your vitals and pressing on your abdomen (you’ve never considered killing a child before, but it hurts so bad that you scream) Law declares you need to be hospitalized immediately, and also says he told you so just to rub salt in the wound.

It’s a miracle that there’s an island within a few hour’s sail. You don’t remember those hours very well. It’s in and out, coming and going with the waves of pain. All you remember is Corazon, staying by your side the entire time. He keeps the crueler Family members away from you, lets you squeeze his hand for comfort, holds your hair back when you throw up. When you make it to the island, he’s the one to carry you to the hospital.

You get palpated again by the hospital doctors (your own special hell) while Corazon holds your hand, get scanned by a machine, and finally diagnosed with a severe infection that’s gone septic. Post-surgery finally has you in relief, doped up on painkillers, but very, very weak.

Recovery is its own trial. Combined with the strength of the painkillers, plus your body fighting off the infection, you see things when you close your eyes. You’re not sure if members of the Family come to visit you, or if you’re imagining they were there. The only constant is Corazon.

You wake up one night to see him hunched over in a too-small chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even half-awake, you get the sudden sense that he’s trying not to cry. He probably wouldn’t want to see you like that, and you’re so, so tired still, so you go back to sleep.

You dream that he speaks to you. Perhaps it’s a memory, but when you wake up, you see his silhouette in the door.

“Cora?” You smile, lifting your head, but your smile dies when you see Doflamingo stepping inside.

“Young Master,” you say weakly. Why is he visiting you alone? What could he possibly want, aside from telling you that you were demoted?

“Baby 5 was inconsolable,” he starts, sauntering up to your bed. “Someone told her she’d suffer the same condition that you did. Then she said something strange...” He trails a hand on the railing of your bed as he walks up to your side, looming over you. “She begged us not to abandon her.” You feel your blood run cold as Doflamingo grins. “What a silly notion.”

You open your mouth to speak, but can’t find the words. He reaches out a hand to brush back your hair and cup your cheek. It takes everything in you not to flinch away.

“Could it be, perhaps, you thought I’d abandon you, Y/n?” he asks, your daunted face reflected crimson in his sunglasses.

Swallowing, you nod, and he grips your chin harshly.

“In your concern, you almost got yourself killed,” he says. “I selected you to join me for a reason. You're no good to me dead. Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, and after another terrifying moment where he stares into your eyes–maybe your soul–he finally leaves.

Corazon writes furiously later, berating you for being so dismissive of your own condition.

‘You were on death’s door! Your CRP was over 200!’

“How much is it supposed to be?”

‘Zero! Fool!!’

You apologize endlessly, and more so as he helps you recover, until he gets sick of your apologies, too–but when he takes your hand, his gaze is soft.

From here on out, no more suffering alone, he writes into your palm, we fight together.

He holds your hand in both of his larger ones and, doing a quick check to make sure you’re still alone, brushes his lips against the tips of your fingers.

Suddenly you understand just how much he’s longed not to fight alone in his mission, and how important it is for you to be there. You bow your head, pull his hands so they’re at your chest, and kiss the back of one. “I understand.”

Blackbeard

Comparatively, you are the better in sheer physical strength to your opponent, but the other pirate outspeeds you. You fail to dodge back far enough from the downward stab of his dagger, and it sinks into the meat of your thigh.

You snarl in pain while he roars in triumph. His roar gets cut off as you suddenly grab his throat.

“Insect!” you snarl as you squeeze hard, grinding his windpipe to his spine. He flails, making horrid choking noises and digging his nails into your hand. There’s a brief struggle where he tries to reach the dagger in your thigh, but you grab his wrist before he can and, with a surge of armament haki, snap it in your grip. He can’t even cry out like this, just writhes around like mad, and you wait a few more seconds before the blood flow is cut off to his brain for too long, and he goes limp.

The rest of the crew watches from the seats of the bar as you snap his neck sharply before letting him drop. The other patrons of the seedy bar cheer, and cash is begrudgingly exchanged while you hobble back to the Blackbeard Pirates. Doc Q starts to look over your leg as you lean against the bar.

“Thirty seconds,” Lafitte says, looking at his pocket watch, “you said it would take you ten.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lafitte,” you warn. The pain wracking through your leg gives you no patience for his snide commentary. “Or I’ll choke you out next.”

“Promise?”

In an instant, you yank the knife out of your thigh and stab it into Lafitte’s so deep it’s almost at the hilt. He screams while Doc Q yells at you, “Don’t pull out the knife–!”

“They fucking stabbed me!” Lafitte shrieks as Blackbeard, Burgess and Auger burst out into laughter.

“I missed your femoral on purpose,” you grumble. “Next time I won’t.”

Doc Q rushes to stem the bleeding from your thigh, and you cross your arms, trying to quell your temper. Because the Doc has to sew you up first, Lafitte will have to wait a while with that dagger sunken into his leg. It’s a fitting punishment, but you still kind of want to kill him.

Blackbeard, wearing his shitty grin, drapes his arm around your shoulders. You throw him a warning look that he ignores, as usual. Most times he does this, you push his arm away and otherwise reject him to his face. This is one of the rare times you don't. You’re still in a lot of pain, and there’s pretty much nowhere else–no one else–on this planet that you could get a comforting touch from. You let him hold you to his side, if only to abate the burning of your injury, and ever so slightly, you feel your rage boil down to a simmer.

“Better, trinket?” Blackbeard asks you, smirking.

“No,” you lie.

#one piece imagines #one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #rosinante x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #x reader #blackbeard x reader #marshall d teach x reader #zen writes

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iron-strangers · 4 months

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Dream a Little Dream of Me

Description: It's all true, Jedi can read minds. You've been trained to keep people's thoughts about you for so long. It went well until the day you caught Din's fantasy involving you.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Series: Expanding Clan Mudhorn

Tags: Established Relationships, Mand’alor Din Djarin, A Sprinkle of Family Fluff, Sexual Fantasy, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Unprotected p-in-v, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Lactation Kink

CW: Reader has AFAB characterization, uses she/her pronouns, is able-bodied, has depicted body changes related to pregnancy and breastfeeding, and hair that can be pulled during sex. No Use of Y/N. Consent Issues: Reader peaks into Din's fantasy. NSFW MINORS DNI

Length: 2.7k

According to urban legends, jedi can read minds. That's true, well, to an extent.

Jedi can read unshielded minds. A Jedi’s mental shield helps to prevent their minds so they’re not easily read, but also to prevent them from accidentally reading a non-force sensitive’s mind. This knowledge helped you survive being chased around the galaxy during the Empire’s reign. Imps are weak-minded and you could easily get any information you needed by reading their mind.

As you grew older, some thoughts people had about you turned sexual. Some got you blushing, like the one from a spacer who fantasized about sweet-talking you into having a quickie in the back of the cantina, some others were just plain disturbing and had you slamming a mental shield as quick as you can before fleeing the parameter with your blaster clutched in your hand.

During the old Jedi-Mandalorian war era, Mando'ade have found a way to keep the jetiise out of their head. Beskar helmets are effective for as long as you can remember, but apparently, there's a loophole. Beskar can't block a jedi who's already soul-bonded to a Mandalorian. There might not be any data about this, but let's be real, there's barely any noted soul bonds between a jedi and Mandalorian throughout history.

This explains the weird sync you and Din have. People have mentioned how you complete each other, that you have almost the same opinions on things, how you two always make the same decisions, both politically and on the battlefield. Some might even suggest that you and him finish each other's sentences. It's a cliché, written in teenager’s holonovels. So you're used to laughing it off, deflecting that you probably just spent too much time together, that between leading and parenting, agreeing on the same thing is just what spouses do. The Armorer called you ‘two halves of one warrior’ at your wedding ceremony. It should’ve ring an alarm in your mind, but in your defense, you were too busy getting swooned off your feet.

It became apparent one day when you met him in a small bakery, just a few minutes away from the Keldabe Palace, when he wasn’t supposed to be done until much later in the day. You’ve been craving Keshian Spice Rolls all day and you figured it was a great day to take the kids out, enjoy the sun and a little sweet treats, then surprise your hard-working riduur with a box of pastries back in the palace. Imagine your surprise when you stepped into a bakery and saw him already queuing.

“Rid’ika!” He called, waving to you from the line. You skipped over the lines, smiling and nodding to everyone as you made your way to your riduur. Din took Grogu from you so you can lift Aranar, who’s busy charming everyone off with his toothy grin, up.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, holding his offered hand. “You have to meet the Prince of Bespin in half an hour.”

“I know, but I heard they are baking Keshian Spice Rolls. So I went to buy you some.” Din shrugged, not once caring about the Prince having to wait for him to get back from spoiling his riduur. “And what about you? I thought you have a bes'kad class for the verd’ike this afternoon.”

“The class won’t start for another two hours and I really want a spice roll.”

You heard people behind you aww-ing and you buried your face into his shoulder, humming when you feel cool beskar against your blushing cheek. Din smiled behind his helmet, paying for three spice rolls to go, never once he let your hand go. You got back to the palace with twenty minutes to spare and herded the ad’ike to the Mand’alor’s office.

“Knock when you need him and don’t come in before I answer.” You rushed into the room when you spotted Kryze marching to stop you.

“You two better not be having se-”

“Young ears, Kryze! Manda, we’re just gonna eat Spice Rolls!” You held the pastry packages up for her to see, holding your laughter when you saw her scowling.

“Spice rolls better not be a code for something else, Djarin! You have a meeting in twenty minutes!”

Din closed the door on her face and you locked it with the force for good measure before dissolving into giggles. Din lifted his helmet up and immediately pressed a longing kiss to your lips. The kiss was uncoordinated since the two of you couldn’t stop grinning. The kiss, and the pastries were heavenly, Grogu and Aranar shared a piece, for your peace of mind. After all, it was you who had to wrangle two sugar-high toddlers in the training yard as you teach advanced sword techniques to a group of heavily armed teenagers who happened to be Mandalore's newly sworn warriors.

The impending knock finally came and you shared another sugary sweet kisses with your riduur before you put his helmet back on and sent him away to his duty. The door was barely closed when you were hit with realization.

Fuck, you thought. We’re soul-bonded.

Overall, there are worse people to be soul-bonded with. Having one with your own riduur is not a bad thing at all. Having one with your riduur without any source to soul-bond knowledge, however, is another piece of work. Putting a mental shield up against your own riduur feels wrong but you do it anyway, respecting his privacy to his own mind.

Until today.

Today, you feel a gentle nudge at your brick wall of a mental shield, laced with Din's warm force presence. You could've brushed him off and shielded yourself better, but you thought to yourself that a small peak wouldn't be bad.

You're wrong. Oh, you're so wrong because it's bad. Your hand directly flies towards your mouth and you try to stifle a moan as a yawn.

In his fantasy, Din had you bent over the meeting table and he's pounding into you. He has his hand on the small of your back, pressing you down to the table. You're completely naked against the table, pinned beneath the beskar of his armor. You can hear the filthy sound of his cock ramming into your sopping cunt. Din grabs a fistful of your hair, making you cry his name out loud, losing yourself to the stretch and the hard thrusts of Din's cock.

“Oh fuck-” you grit your teeth, clenching your fist on your thigh. You sit there, stunned, breathless, unable to stop watching.

“Can you feel how good this pussy stretches around me, rid’ika?” Din grunts, holding you so close to his hips while his fingers reach down, rubbing your swollen clit. “Such a good girl, do you wanna cum, mesh'la? Wanna soak my cock and make me give you another ik’aad?”

Maker, yes! You thought, trying your damn hardest not to whine while the version of you in his mind is whimpering and begging him to make you cum. Din leans to your ear, telling you to come. You’re shuddering in his arm, moaning his name in a punched out noise with a telltale sign of orgasm, and you snap yourself out of his imagination.

You put your strongest mental shield up and you lean to the plush seat, blinking and looking around the room as you settle yourself back to reality. Din is sitting on the head of the table, looking over his own datapad as he watches a member of his council talk about Mandalore’s quarterly budget report. If you didn’t know better, you’d think your riduur is actively listening to the report instead of daydreaming about fucking you over this very table.

You tread carefully when you're back home. You put Aranar and Grogu to sleep late, making sure they are a little bit more tired than usual so they sleep soundly later tonight. Once the kids are out like lights, you take the baby monitor with you and change into one of Din’s loose shirts.

You find him still seated on the dining table, tapping things into his datapad. You smirk to yourself, walking towards him and leaning over the dining table to take your own datapad that you could easily reach if you make an extra trip to the end of the table. Din can't stop staring, making no move to help you, instead he stands up from the chair and moves to cup the swell of your ass, just like how he imagined before.

“Careful, rid’ika, you don't know what kinda game you're playing here.”

You whine when his hand moves underneath the shirt, trailing up your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. He whispers praises to your ear, biting down your jaw and your neck.

“Fuck, look at you, mesh'la, you're expecting this, huh?” He lifts the shirt up, revealing nothing underneath other than your glistening cunt. “I haven't even done anything, rid'ika, and this pretty pussy's already all wet for me.”

You moan softly when his fingers find your clit, rubbing on it as you shudder in his arms. Din sinks two fingers into your wet heat and he groans when he feels how wet you are. He thumbs on your clit as he keeps pumping in and out of your cunt, spreading your arousal all over his fingers and your inner thighs until you shake beneath him, then he pulls off of you.

“No, cyare please, I'm so close- Ah!” You cry as his fingers leave you, only to moan loudly when he kneels behind you and he slaps your soaked pussy.

“Needy girl,” he teases, slapping your clit again, ignoring your cries. He parts your folds with his tongue until his smart mouth finds your clit and he starts sucking on the sensitive nub. You grip the edge of the table tightly as you grind against his face, smearing your arousal all over his lower face. Din tuts, holding your hips in place, chuckling when he sees your hole clenches around nothing.

“You know what you get for being such a good girl, cyar’ika?” Din asks, his fingers are back on your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerve in a tight circle as you buck violently against his fingers. “Good girl gets to come on my face.”

His lips are back on you, kissing, lapping, and sucking until you're a whimpering mess. You let out a high pitched whine and you come on his mouth, flooding him with your arousal as he keeps on sucking on your lips as you ride your orgasm.

Din grabs your chin towards him and he kisses you hard, his lips are glistening with the mixture of your cum and his spit and you can taste yourself on the tip of his tongue. Din pulls off of you and he turns you around, lifting you up to the edge of the table. He lays you down and he parts your legs with a steady hand on your inner thigh, keeping them apart so he can admire his hard work, your drenched cunt glistening with your sweet come. Din groans then he spits on your cunt, adding to the mess before smearing everything around with the thick head of his cock. He's painfully hard, his foreskin is pulled all the way back, revealing the flared tip, steadily leaking precum all over you. He lines himself up with your entrance and fucks all the way into you in one push. You watch as his thick cock stretches your hole, feeling yourself clinging to his girth, fluttering around him as you struggle to take his size. Both of you moan when he finally buries himself deep inside you, still holding tight to each other.

“Maker, been thinking about this sweet pussy all day.”

Oh, I know. You thought. “Yeah? Did you think about fucking me, ner riduur? Thought about how my pussy clenches around your cock? Did you think about filling me up with your cum until I'm swollen with your adi'ka?” You taunt him, circling your legs on his hips to keep him buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck!” Din swears, hissing while he steadily leaks precum all over your wet heat, leaning his head to yours and rutting deep against your sweet spot. “You're playing with fire, rid'ika. Can't just say things like that.”

“But I want you to,” you beg, moaning wantonly when he starts pumping in and out of you. “Want you to keep fucking me until I'm so full and swollen with your baby.”

Din growls, pounding deep into you with punishing pace. He's watching you, watching your cunt swallowing his cock, watching your face grow slack with pleasure. You slip your hands under the shirt, covering your breast and squeezing them, making your milk leak until there's a wet patch over the shirt.

“Filthy girl,” Din grunts, pawing on the piece of clothing. “Lift it up baby, let me see.”

You lift the shirt up, revealing your breasts for him, shiny from both milk and sweat. Beads of your milk trickling from your nipples, leaking steadily as he fucks into you. He slips one engorged nipple to his mouth, sucking until he can taste you on his tongue while his fingers play with the abandoned one, rubbing and squeezing, spraying him with milk.

“Everything about you is just so sweet, rid'ika, my perfect girl.” He praises. He licks your nipple clean before switching to the other side, pressing open mouthed kisses before bringing the sensitive buds to his mouth and sucking on it, drinking you until he's full while his hand loves on the other one. His cock never stops pounding into you, bringing you closer and closer with each snaps of his hips.

He folds your legs into a mating press, tucking your knees against your chest and his cock is so deep inside you. So deep he reaches your cervix, kissing your womb with his tip. You clench hard around his length, your wall seizes violently around him, milking him irresistibly as he keeps hitting the spot that makes you see stars, begging him to please, never stop. You're wailing as your whole body shakes, tipping your head back and moaning Din's name so loud he has to cover your mouth with his palm, worried the filthy noises of the snap of his balls slapping your ass, your loud moans, and the squelching sound of your wet pussy might wake the sleeping kids up.

With a shaky shudder, you come down from your high, whining as Din keeps fucking you, chasing his own orgasm. After a few brutal thrust, your riduur groans loudly, shouting punched out moans as he peaks. His cock twitches in your soaked, messy cunt, filling you with his hot cum, flooding your insides and claiming you his. He kisses your lips, muffling both your moans, only parting to plant another kiss to your temple while he pumps you full of his cum, murmuring sweet, loving praises and filthy promises to you.

“That's a good girl, rid'ika. Take it, baby, gonna get you all round and pregnant. That's what you want, right? Want to give me another? Want to be bred all over again?”

Din keeps rutting with you until you both shake from overstimulation and he gently pulls out of you. He admires your blissed, fucked out face, trailing soft kisses down your jaw and your neck, sucking his marks all over your body. You tip his jaw up and catch his lips in another kiss, laced with a content smile, before breaking away to whisper sweet I love yous to each other.

Din gathers you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom and lowering you gently into your shared bed. He leaves for the fresher, fetching a damp rag to clean you up before slipping into his side of bed beside you. He pulls you close, kissing your lips lovingly and rearranges the covers, tucking you into his arms.

“You're my dream girl, you know that right?”

“I tried,” you smile contently, caressing the scruff of his jaw softly.

“You don't have to,” Din mutters, humming when you snuggle closer to him, pressing your heartbeat over his. “You're perfect just the way you are.”

You exchange more kisses, lazily making out in bed until sleep takes over, safely nestled in each other's arms.

About a few weeks later, you start to feel the tiniest flutter in the force.

#expanding clan mudhorn #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din djarin imagine #pedro boys #pedro pascal fic #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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unreliablesnake · 11 months

Text

König couldn't help but smile while he watched you standing in the middle of the square, looking back and forth between the screen of your phone and the nearby streets with a confused look on your gorgeous face. You were lost, he could easily see that.

It was one of those rare occasions when he was off-duty, visiting his family in Austria without having to protect his identity with the usual veil. Yes, he felt naked, almost anxious again, but he reminded himself that everything was okay. He was alone. No one was following him. No one recognized him. It was all good.

So he laughed to himself quietly before walking over to you. "Excuse me," he began, already raising his hands in defense since he knew you would freak out because of his size alone. When you gulped and locked the screen of your phone, he went on. "You seem to be lost. Can I help?"

You hesitated, but your eyes never left his face. Were you just cautious and kept an eye on him to make sure he behaved? Or was there another reason? Maybe something was on his face? When he cocked an eyebrow at you, you cleared your throat and kicked the cobblestone sidewalk.

"I have the goddamn GPS in my phone and I'm still lost," you murmured angrily with an adorable nose scrunch. "I'm looking for this address," you told him once you found the email it was in.

He took a good look at the screen, and he couldn't help but smile. "I'm going right across the street, I can show you the way if you'd like," he offered.

Nodding, you put the device back to your pocket. "That would be great, thank you."

The two of you walked in silence for a while. König had a series of questions on his mind, starting with one about your name and one about whether or not you were a local. Even he got lost sometimes after being away for too long, so he wouldn't be that surprised to find out you were living in this city.

But he remained silent, and instead of opening his mouth, he silently observed your features, taking in the details as if he was trying to remember his girlfriend's looks. But you weren't his girlfriend, although a part of him desperately wanted to ask you out before you parted at your destination.

The great Colonel König was back to his anxious self because of you. His mind was in overdrive, one moment he was just about to open his mouth, the next he wanted to run away and hide from you. It was a terrible feeling, one he didn't have to face on the battlefield. Oh, how he wished he was back there.

"You're tall. And big," you suddenly mused as you turned to him with a smile. "I'm sure a lot of people tell you that, sorry."

He couldn't help but laugh at this. "Yeah, I get that a lot. And you're cute," he added without even thinking.

You came to a sudden halt and turned to him with your hands folded behind your back. "You think I'm cute?"

Damn it. Where the hell did that filter between his mouth and brain go? "I–I... It's not... Yes," he eventually admitted guiltily.

With a laugh, you moved closer to him and playfully nudged his arm with your shoulder. "You don't look bad either. Maybe we could meet later."

"As in going on a date?" You nodded with a smile. "I'd love that."

König knew you were close to your destination, so he pulled out his phone and gave it to you. "Can I get your number to discuss the details?" he asked.

Without answering, you took the device and typed your number along with your name before giving it back to him. "Give me a call or send me a text."

He looked at the new contact and couldn't hold back a smile. "I like your name."

"Speaking of names, you never told me yours," you noted with a pout.

"It's König."

"That's all? Hmm... mysterious. I like it."

The rest of the trip passed in silence, mostly because you wanted to avoid spoilers. We'll have time to talk on our date, you said. He was okay with that. But when he stopped in front of the building where you were heading, his heart sank. He didn't want to say goodbye yet, but there was nothing he could do.

Before he could register what was happening, you stood on your toes and gently pulled down his head to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thanks for showing me the way," you whispered to him.

"Anytime," König told you.

#könig x reader #könig #konig #konig x reader #konig cod #cod konig #cod könig #könig cod #modern warfare #mw2 #call of duty

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natsaffection · 1 year

Text

Hiii, 21 years old and she/her. I like Women (and I mean Women like 30 years and older..ehem my Girlfriend is currently 40🥳) feel free to write me ABOUT EVERYTHING! THIS BLOG IS A SAFEPLACE for alle Topics. So if you have questions, ask them! Or just look for relaxation on it. 🩵

English is not my first language, so please point out any mistakes, thank you. 🙋🏻‍♀️

M's MASTERLIST:

Do not copy, repost, translate or claim my work as your own! Reblogs are appreciated though. <3

Most of the work is 18+ DNI, so if you’re a minor, do not interact with it!

Series:

[Natasha]: My sweet Baby. (NSFW)

• You took your long awaited four-day vacation, for which you had saved your money for two years. That you had almost no money would be an understatement. You just manage to get through your college with two part-time jobs (for which you get far too little money).So what happens when you meet the most successful CEO in the world in an unknowingly overpriced café?

[Natasha] : Mafias Mistress (NSFW)

• Your life takes a drastic turn when you accidentally meet Natasha Romanoff, who lives a mysterious and seductive life behind her facade. Despite Natasha's initial resistance, your light and attraction ignite a fiery romance that sets both your worlds on fire. But as your love grows stronger, so does the danger, especially when you discover Natasha's true identity. Surrounded now by wealth and danger, you become the new center of Natasha's universe and your bond is put to the test.

[Natasha]: I hate you! (Angst)

• You were glad you escaped the hell trip. Even if it wasn't entirely your merit. You could finally smell the freedom you could only dream of before. However there was one person that disliked your presence since the moment you stepped foot on the campus. No matter what you do, you always get on her bad side. What happens when you find out the truth about her and she about you? Will her rivalry turn into your jobs or will it become something else?

[Natasha]: My sweet Student. (NSFW)

• You read and you dreamed about it. What if you fall in love with your teacher (who is also twice your age) and you can live your dream? She shows you your deepest sexual ideas and lives them out with you. On the shelf with the books and hello reality.

[Natasha]: Kingdom of secrets (NSFW)

• A story unfolds in the realm of celestria in which the younger Princess Y/n Dawn finds an unexpected connection with Lady Natasha Romanoff, the kingdom's revered and feared first female knight. Natasha, a skilled warrior known for her bravery on the battlefield and icy demeanor, is tasked by the king with protecting his daughter. As Natasha watches the princess grow, a complex and unexpected bond emerges between them that transcends the boundaries of age and status.

One shots:

SFW

[Natasha] Trust. (Angst/Fluff)

• You dealing with drug addiction post the loss of your girlfriend, Kate. Natasha aids you through withdrawal, relapses, and recovery.

[Natasha] Together. (Fluff)

• Sugar!Mommy Natasha is helping you through exams

[Natasha]: Afraid of loosing you. (Angst/Fluff)

• Natasha is your girlfriend of two years and is always overprotective over you. So what happens when you both get under an attack which priority it is to kill the black widow?

[Natasha] Paramedic. (Angst/Fluff)

• you have a motorcycle Accident and Natasha is a Paramedic

[Natasha] One step at a time. (Angst/Fluff)

• Natasha and the team help you cope with the loss of your leg.

[Natasha] Lines Crossed.(Fluff) Pt 2 (NSFW)

• Natasha and you are Enemies till you get hurt.

[Natasha] Fury and Friction. (Fluff)

• You both deny your feelings to each other and it leads to Anger

[Natasha] Whatever it takes. (Angst/fluff)

• Football!Player Natasha thought youre playing her and wants to brake your Heart first

[Natasha] I see you. (Angst/Fluff)

• You thought the forced marriage would be the end of you. But it turned into something more.

[Natasha] Walking through Fire. (Angst)

• Natasha can't handle your job and eventually regrets ending the Bond you once had.

[Natasha] Trough Darkness. (Angst/Fluff)

• You and Natasha meet a little girl who will need your help later.

[Natasha] Showing everything. (Fluff/Angst)

• Natasha is supposed to get close to you for an undercover mission. But she falls in love.

NSFW

[Natasha] Apologize.

• Natasha let you apologize to her employees

[Natasha] Reward. | Pt. 2

• Coach! Natasha x Player!Reader

[Natasha] Happy anniversary.

• Sugar!Mommy Natasha celebrates her anniversary with Sugar!Baby Reader

[Natasha] Oh, Baby.. | Pt. 2

• You break Natasha’s first rule. (NSFW)

[Natasha] Teacher!Nat x Teacher!Reader

• In a school where Prof!Natasha and Prof!Reader teach different languages, they have quite the contrasting reputations. Despite their differences, Natasha and Reader engage in playful flirting at work..

[Natasha] Cure.

• You got infected with the sex pollen and a red haired ..acquaintance offers to help you.

[Natasha] Distraction.

• Smutty hate sex with Boss!natasha and her assistant

[Natasha] Hidden.

• Natasha gets to know the real you.

[Natasha] Lesson.

• Jealous Natasha is teaching you a Lesson

[Natasha] The Van.

• G!P Natasha sits you on her member during a trip

[Heated] Heated. PT2

• It's Hate right?

[Natasha] Interrogation.

• Natasha use a different Method to get informations about you

[Natasha] Morning.

• you wake up a little too needy

[Natasha] I'm not going anywhere.

• Bodyguard!Natasha is falling in love with your stubbornness

[Natasha] Mine to Use. Pt2

• you habe to pay off your depths to Natasha

[Natasha] The Ticket.

• The officer had a good offer to let you trough your ticket

[Natasha] Never say Never.

• Your father's best friend, who is twice your age, has feelings for you

[Natasha] Never letting you go.

• You thought you were too late. But Natasha comes back to you.

[Natasha] Relaxing.

• Natasha ka giving you a Massage ans it leads to more.

[Natasha] Footage.

• Natasha fucks you inside the quinjet while the security cameras are filming.

[Natasha] Healing Touch.

• You are faking your orgasm. Natasha is helping you tobget a real one.

Natasha and Wanda:

[Natasha] Reversed.

• Natasha is dommed for the first time.

[WandaNat] Unholy. (NSFW)

• Wanda is a stripper and Nat took an interest in her

[WandanNat] Something different. (NSFW)

• Natasha and Reader are Dating and have a threesome with their friend Wanda

[WandaNat] Save Heaven. (NSFW)

• Natasha and Wanda are both fucking Reader and their Aftercare

[WandaNat] Bond. (NSFW/Fluff)

• Reader is calling out the Safeword

[WandaNat] Truth and Desire. (NSFW/Fluff)

• You got infected with a truth serum and they use it against you

[WandaNat] Helpless Desire. (NSFW/Fluff)

• Tied to a chair, you have to watch them pleasure themselves

[WandaNat] Comfort. (NSFW)

• They Comfort you after a Horror Movie and got inspired by a scene

[WandaNat] Lights out. (NSFW/Fluff)

• You calling your safeword

[WandaNat] The Widow and the Witch. (NSFW)

• The two mafia bosses want to find out who can make you feel better

[WandaNat] At your Pace. (NSFW/Fluff)

• The two women take your virginity and your father comes in

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha smut #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov smut

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ruinandrue · 5 months

Text

Introducing Inkwarren: A dark fantasy TTRPG of woodland adventures!

Hi all! I'm Matt, and I am an Atlanta-based indie ttrpg designer currently developing Inkwarren, a dark woodland fantasy TTRPG of swashbuckling tactics and storybook intrigue. Today, I'm going to talk to you about what Inkwarren is, what inspired it, and the design goals I have for the game. Inkwarren is already in preliminary playtests, and I hope to have public playtests sometime in the near future.

What is Inkwarren?

In Inkwarren, players take on the role of woodlanders- animal wanderers of the massive Woodland, who use magick, wits, and weapons to take down foes supernatural and mundane. Your woodlanders' wandering band may be a band of mercenary adventurers, a band of high-spirited rebels, or even a band of scoundrels and ne'er-do-wells just looking for their next score.

One player takes on the role of the Voice in the Dark, a guiding force behind the story that presents challenges, describes consequences, and narrates the actions of the woodlander's foes.

Inkwarren aims to merge modern-style deep narrative rules with exciting, flashy, swashbuckling battles that emphasizes teamwork, movement, and positioning. Character creation is a deep and choice-driven process, that fully contextualizes a woodlander within the world and sets them on a path to a truly memorable story.

Inspirations

Mechanically, Inkwarren borrows from and is inspired by games like Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition, Modiphius's Dishonored, ICON, Blades in the Dark, and City of Mist, mixing design trends of modern tactical fantasy games with deep narrative based trends found in other systems. Inkwarren's combat also shares inspiration with the Hades series of games, aiming to emulate the fast-paced action where movement and positioning are just as important as the attacks you use.

Narratively, Inkwarren is inspired by The Secret of NIMH, Dishonored, Redwall, Root, and Hollow Knight. When designing Inkwarren's eponymous setting, I want to evoke the gravitas and melancholy somberness of Hallownest from Hollow Knight, with magic as eldritch and strange as the Outsider's gifts in Dishonored. With this, Inkwarren is still a game about hope, and aims to capture the optimism-despite-adversity and little-heroes-against-great-foes vibes of stories like Redwall or The Secret of NIMH. I have to credit Root for originally giving me the idea to shift my game concept to one where the PCs are little woodland creatures.

Choice, Sacrifice, and Hope

Inkwarren's core mechanic emphasizes choice, intent, and narrative weight. The base 2d10 roll is modified by the woodlander's own Virtues (core strengths like Brawn, Nimbleness, or Insight), combined with a Style to define how they're using that Virtue (such as performing an action Cunningly, Quickly, or Sneakily). Difficulty is measured by Risk and Effect, that assign narrative weight to the severity of consequences a woodlander faces, and how effective they will be if they Prevail.

When woodlanders just don't roll high enough, they don't simply fail- they Falter. Faltering grants Hope, a resource that can be used to Persevere and succeed despite consequences on future challenges. With Hope, failure is never the end- it simply closes one door, and opens another.

Swashbuckling Battles

Inkwarren's Battle system emphasizes movement, positioning, and teamwork. Woodlanders interact with the battlefield through exploits, combat disciplines that have a variety of different effects to use on the field. Exploits have an at-will root effect that can be used as a woodlander's bread and butter, but more powerful effects are always within reach. By using root effects, meeting battle objectives (such as defeating enemies or reaching escape points), and continuing the fight (by ending rounds), woodlanders build Momentum, a shared resource pool by the entire band that can be used to power a woodlander's most powerful abilities. Woodlanders can spend Momentum to use an exploit's powerful bloom effect, or power a duo effect that they can use to combine their abilities with those of another ally. Momentum doesn't deplete until the Battle is over-- use it for quick bursts, or build up to unleash more powerful attacks against your foes!

Other rulesets like charging attacks, staggering mechanics for bosses, climbing on top of larger foes, environments, high ground, and ally turns (that don't clog up combat) also add gravitas, pace, and exciting tactical decisions to make Inkwarren's Battles so engaging.

Sweeping Narrative

Inkwarren's narrative mechanics work to ensure that solving problems outside of Battle carry just as much weight as Battle itself. Inkwarren's narrative ruleset includes:

The Doubt system allows woodlanders to call upon the Voice in the Dark for aid, but at a cost: as the woodlanders build Doubt, the Voice can spend it to increase the danger of the surroundings, unlock new abilities for foes, or act as a mastermind behind the antagonistic forces of the narrative.

Narrative abilities called flourishes that woodlanders can use to interact with the world.

A special character-based tour de force that a woodlander may use to do something truly legendary, although infrequently.

Rest Activities woodlanders may use to Cook Meals, Spar, Entertain, or Pray to give themselves bonuses and restorations for use later.

Wounds to carry over how trials in-combat affect a woodlander after the Battle ends.

Rules for Tongues that establish a woodlander's knowledge of a language with several levels of fluency.

Ties, which are narrative bonds with NPCs woodlanders may use to increase their effect against them, or burn them to ask for a favor.

And So Much More!

Deep character customization for woodlanders, including a Coat mechanic that allows you to play as any little animal your heart desires, unique and evocative traditions like the ghostly historian Folklorist or the passionate Warrior-Poet, rules for mysterious and magical artifacts called esoterica, an in-depth crafting system, and more!

If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading! I'm so excited about this game, and I hope to share more with everyone soon!

Tìoraidh!

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg design #woodland fantasy #inkwarren #ttrpg community #tabletop

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its-actually-minicika · 1 year

Note

Hi, love your works so much! Can't wait for more updates 🥰🥰 I was wondering maybe you'd like the idea where book!Aemond and Velarion!(Strong?)Reader are in an arranged marriage. But Reader just knows what to say and how to act so that Aemond is wrapped around her finger (kinda thought of Margaery and Joffrey situation, she was such a talented schemer, worthy of winning the Throne 😭). I don't really know about the setting, like if it's before, during or after the Dance... just thought it'd be interesting to see this kind of plot with our beloved Prince 🤴🏼🐉

If you don't like it, just ignore me 🙈

Dragon Sickness (18+)

Pairing: bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader

Warnings: No usage of (Y/N), Greens win AU, bookcanon Greens, the obvious Targaryen incest, mentions of major character deaths (we're entering spoiler grounds, but not really), blood, gore etc.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: I fell in love with this idea the moment I saw it! I ended up altering the plot line for this one-shot a little bit - the reader will definitely grow into the Margaery architype, but today you shall see her as she was when she just learned how to make ends meet with her newfound life at Court.

I don't know if I should turn this into yet another series, but if you guys enjoyed this, let me know

Also, thank you so, so much for your kind words ♡ i'm hugging you to the moon and back!

PART 2 IS OUT NOW ♡♡♡

Who could ever blame you for your indiscreet acts? Alliances change when the world you know suddenly turns upside down.

She remembered how weak she was. How scared she had been.

How her eyes widened into two brown specs of uncertainty, how her mouth fell agape, as she mulled over Alicent’s words.

‘You shall marry Aemond within the next moon turns. For the good of the Realm.’

The Dowager Queen had openly admitted to being against the match – of course, the prospect of her perfect son, married off to a lowly bastard of Rhaenyra's (otherwise said, her last surviving child), didn’t specifically thrill her. Much less her demanding and scornful father.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. And if the Velaryon wanted to keep her head away from a spike, she had no other choice but to comply.

Although… she wasn’t a Velaryon now, was she? Aegon the Usurper made sure of that.

His final gift to her was to strip her of all her titles. She had been openly declared a bastard – before the masses, before the Court.

With a wide smile upon his burnt lips, the “King” had told her she’d be a Targaryen instead. Driftmark wouldn’t matter, her legacy wouldn’t matter. Aemond would inherit the seat with the Usurper’s blessing, as a homage brought to his able fighting and his shown bravery on the bloody battlefield.

Never mind that he’d never partaken in a fight; save for the one that killed her stepfather, Daemon, and sent her poor mother in a downward spiral. Aemond had chosen his adversaries wisely, and managed to go through the whole war without as much of a scratch upon his silver armour.

‘I shan’t marry your son. Not now, not ever.’ Her own voice rang out.

‘You will do exactly as demanded.’

‘I would rather die than bear the treacherous children of that monstrous beast.’

A monstrous beast. That is what Aemond was.

And that is what he shall remain. No matter how many gifts he brought to her. No matter how many hours of their days and days in their weeks and weeks in their months they spent promenading those ghastly gardens.

‘You will if you know your best interests. Your own head may hold no value to you, but a single swing of my son’s sword would be enough to bring forth the ruin of House Blackwood.’

At first, she’d been restless in her attempts to escape the Keep. Her every waking hour was spent shamelessly inside the Sept, where she prayed not for the safety of her brothers’ souls, but for revenge against the mutted Greens.

The slight breeze of the cathedral mended her flesh from the heat of summer. And no one dared to approach or talk to her. The quietness was a welcomed deed.

During the first night of their betrothal, her glossy eyes scanned Aemond’s face. His hands wantonly gripped at his thighs and a slight twitch of his mouth, accompanied by an elongated hum escaped his lips.

There was no other discernable expression. And when he led her to the chambers of her early girlhood, he merely bowed and kissed her hand.

She spent the first night of their betrothal scraping her knuckles so harshly, that they broke and cracked under the stimulation of the cold water.

Her thirst for vengeance ceased after the first two months. Her wedding date was approaching swiftly, and she found herself faced with the abhorrent truth. She had no allies. No more friends at Court. The girl had shut herself in her tiny room, losing her mind with the pain and grief that flooded her at night: the faces of her mother, her brothers, her father. The sound of their screams and their endless pleas for help.

Every night, without a fail, she woke up tormented by nightmares – her throat burning with absolving shrieks of fear, exacerbated breaths of air and flimsy nightdresses, damp throughout by breaks of sweat.

The first night she lashed out onto her bedding was the night she found out Aemond had moved his Quarters next to hers. He yanked the door open and stepped into the light of her candle – looking ravished, completely out of breath and startled. Started not for his own accord and safety, but for the state that his future wife had been in.

‘Shit, it’s alright, I’m here–’

The echo of his mellow voice deterred her to let out a blood-curdling scream, that would have rivalled even the one of the late Queen Rhaenyra, after Aegon the Usurper ceased her at Dragonstone, and reeled his dragon to eat her whole.

‘Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my room!’

Her sobs pierced into the man’s heart, but his hurt expression was masked quickly with one most bitter and taciturn. He clenched his fists ruefully by his side, and spat out an apology in a low and dangerous tone.

‘As you wish.’

And how dearly he loved those words:

‘As you wish.’

'As you desire.’

Even though nothing had been, or ever will be, as she achingly wished them to.

“You could at least attempt to look happy.” His chastising tone rained upon her, as his Lady remained hammered in her seat. Maids flocked to her like lost chickens to their cock, arranging her hair and picking out dresses fit for their engagement parade.

Her face contorted into the mirror, and a faint sigh beleft her lips. Carefully she turned around, reflecting his stance with a subtle arch to her shapely brow.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“An old wives' tale. And one that applies only on the day itself.”

“Perhaps we should encourage tradition more. Make it so we don’t cross paths at all til then.”

Just as fast as it came, the feral look dissolved over his tired face. Aemond heaved out a heavy exhale and merely settled to growl at her maids.

“Leave us. Now.”

A discontented look painted over her fair features. His niece opened her mouth in protest, to try and stop the fleeing girls from truly making their escape.

“I must remind my Prince that the engagement assembly will be held in less than an hour. I believe I should like them to stay.”

The gathered women exchanged lost and protruding glances, until the former King Regent spoke again.

“They will leave us at once.”

“They’ll do no such a thing. They must make haste to get me ready. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

“I’m more than capable of lacing up a loose bodice.”

The tight expression on her face deserted her features with the leave of his smug retort. She swallowed thickly in enraged abandon, and silently beseeched her ladies not to leave her all alone.

Still ravishing her with his bold stare, Aemond stepped another foot into the cosy confinements of her tidy prison. “If I’m to turn around now and find any of you standing before me, I’ll arrange that you’re all flogged and defiled beyond the utter of salvation.”

Brisk footsteps swallowed the room, echoing wildly through the narrow dark hallways. The former Velaryon shook her head in disarray, and graced her soon-to-be-husband with a tight smile and a nod.

“Congratulations.” She uttered humorously, “I should enjoy looking like a fool tonight much more than being proper by your side.”

As if drowned below a trace, Aemond took another step in the direction of the frowning Princess. His face remained impenetrable, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice ran meek, unsure and hoarse.

“Turn around.” He commanded her gently, whilst grabbing a deep green garment from the cluttery made on her bed. Despite her lack of desire to abide by his request, the woman turned her back to him and muttered slowly, though much softer than intended.

“I don’t like that one. It’ll make the skirts look out of place.”

“Which one do you want, then?” His whisper had made her draw in a sharp gasp; the warmth of his breath fell soothingly over the nape of her neck, caressing her delicate skin in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

“The red one with black lacings.”

His hand came to spin her back around, and their noses nearly touched together. A smile tugged at the ends of his upturned lips, but the look inside his eye remained frigid and unforgiving.

“Your petticoat won’t be those colours.”

A conceited scowl graced her face. She reached her hand behind him and skillfully snatched one of a different design. “Fine. I want to wear this one, then.”

The obnoxious blue and silver danced across her paling skin. And if Aemond weren’t so dazed by their proximity and lack of air, he might have laughed at her feeble attempts of vexing him.

“Those are Velaryon hues.”

“Perfect. I shall honour my house well.”

“You are not a Velaryon to grace them with such a feat.”

“No, you are absolutely right. Your brother did name me a Targaryen.”

Their faces were so close to each other, that their moving lips were almost touching.

“Yet I can’t wear black and red either.” A prompted look disarmed the Prince, “It is all very confusing.”

His lone orb descended to her puffing bosom, but Aemond soon directed himself upon a more elusive image. His fingers twitched with the need to grab a hold of her – to pull away those last pieces of cloth that shielded her away from view.

“You know full well why I can’t allow that.” He hummed in unmoving disapproval, “As much as I enjoy your voice and the raptures of your closeness, I must say this conversation bores me.”

“I should be able to wear what I want.” Came her prompt and swift reply, “But of course, Your Grace, forgive me. ‘Tis not for men to pounder on laces and brims.” Her palms took to rest upon his bulging chest, and the girl nearly removed them at once, as the thrumming of his heart enterlaced with her slim fingers. Still, she furrowed her brows in a most perplexed of mockeries, and insatiably drove on, “Indeed resilient men such as yourself occupy their time much better.”

The callouses of his hands fell heavily upon her cheeks.

“Fucking their ways through brothels, getting their pricks wet, and fantasising about wars.”

The harshness of his next tug nearly broke her brave facade – her eyes widened in mistrust, and a slight recoil braced over her straightened back. Her small fingers clasped over his shaking wrist, which held onto her face with a gentleness untoward; one completely mismatching with the predatory glimmer in his eye.

The man he was, and the man he was trying to be would surely never mend to one.

A Kinslayer. A monster. A divergent freak.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

His thumb played absent-mindedly at her lower lip, and the young Princess tried her damnest not to bite him. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?”

“You are as imprudent as you are beautiful. A family trait, I assume.”

“You have my gratitude for the flattering commentary. I’m very proud of my heritage.”

His lilac orb bore into her, and the man let out a reserved laugh, “Your bastard brothers were ample proud. Look where that brought them.” The rough end of his hand gripped her own painfully, before she could make for a swing at his handsome face. “Lost in the seas, rotting at the bottom of an ocean, nestling inside Sunfyre’s belly.”

While her hands were clasped together, her mouth wasn’t sown shut. With a single and effective move, she spat harshly in his face, eliciting a groan from her broader perpetrator.

Though his nostrils flared up in disdain, the man graced her with a calculated smirk. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?” He mocked her with feigned interest.

“Fuck you,” She hissed out slowly, “Don’t you dare talk of my family – my brothers were ten times the man you are.”

“Oh, but I have every right to talk about your family. Given that I will be yours quite soon.” Once more he forced her to turn around, and kneeled over to her spasming form, to begin dressing her up; in nought else, of course, but the mundane silks of his choosing.

"Doesn't the prospect thrill you? To become my lady-wife, to finally bear a true Targaryen inside your royal womb?"

So hopeless and defeated she felt, that the youth jerked herself relentlessly, while repeating him the same plethora of words. “You cannot force me to be your whore. You cannot force me to wear this. I will not bear your Hightower green.”

Aemond could feel his patience running thin – and when her foot came into contact with his setting knee, the man let out a ferocious growl, and promptly trapped the girl in his arms, with the aid of a nearby wall.

“So you want to be difficult? You don’t want to wear this? Hmm? Well, who am I not to abide my Lady’s burning wishes?”

The sharpness of his dagger came into quick contact with the milky skin of her thighs. And she might have almost screamed, if Aemond didn’t immediately pull himself away. His hard chest grazed hers for but a moment, as the Prince cast his attention to her moving shadow.

“If you wish not to attend our engagement parade wearing the clothes I’ve chosen for you,” He muttered against her face, a scorned look adorning his own, “Then you won’t be wearing anything at all.”

She huffed out a dispensing pant and pursed her lips into a tight line.

She remained rigid and poised, until a spark of amusement swirled into her eyes.

The first crack was that of a lax smile. The next, a tremor to her lips. The calm before the storm approached, until all rattled down with a mirthed laugh cascading from her reddened lips.

“Do you mean to frighten me with this promise?” She asked through the arch of an uncertain brow, “As if every man in this cursed Keep won’t get to watch me whore myself out to you anyway, when our wedding night will come?”

His face suddenly hardened at the notion of their reality – as if he didn’t give much thought to the bedding ceremony. To his Lady being watched by a thousand other eyes but his.

Aemond suddenly darkened, and his fist came into contact with a near spot on the wall, so awfully close to her frightened, paling face.

She watched with wide eyes how his stare contorted from one of realisation to one of fury. He stiffly peeled his body away from hers, and strained himself to leave her be. The jealous and possessive knots that churned painfully inside his stomach burned his skin upon the surface, and constricted the air he brashly took in.

He nodded to her in a spry and calloused manner, and brought his hand out to touch her cheek. His knuckles had begun to bleed, busted by the force of impact that his fist had faced for him. Behind his eye danced a look of seldom shame – he gnawed harshly at his bottom lip, and pondered, for a while, on apologising to his niece; for his lack of princely conduct, for his show of impropriety – for his inability to keep himself at bay.

Still his thoughts failed to merge to words, and so the man ran his eye one final time over her defensive pose, and merely left her standing there.

As if turned into a statue, the girl barely registered the lethargic closing of the door, the hurried and heavy footsteps that travelled further and further away from her quaint and cluttered space, and the animated curse that slipped past her uncle's throat.

Did he just dare to leave her there, with her petticoat half up her legs, in nought else but a flimsy nightdress?

At first she thought that his avoidance was a blessing in disguise.

For after clashing wits with Aemond, and after his swift hurried departure, the man had barely graced her with another word.

His hand held onto hers for the whole duration of the procession. He wordlessly forced her to dance two dances, and led her to her Quarters as soon as she mentioned that she was tired.

But his palms didn’t linger on the shape of her narrow waist – his lips barely grazed her knuckles, and Aemond turned with lest a word to add after their fake sympathies were exchanged.

Had he gotten bored of her? Realised what a terrible match they made, and begged his mother on his hands and knees to break off their ill engagement?

For the first time in a while, a new notion of fear engulfed her.

The Greens couldn’t kill her. Of that, she was almost certain. It wouldn't be a wise move, and it would anger the North beyond the power of salvation. The war had had its say on every army that fought into it, yet the Crownlands were especially weak.

But if Aemond were to sever their solidary alliance, then her future would be most uncertain.

Otto Hightower would make her join with an old and withered Lord, no doubt – one with more than enough sons to further on his pesky line. One who couldn’t even get it up to her, who’d never procreate and mend their blood, who’d make sure Rhaenyra’s line would end with her.

Or perhaps she’d be sent to join the Faith – become a Septa or a Silent Sister, among the infamous Maris Baratheons of the Realm. Yet another girl who wouldn’t keep her tongue when asked.

And history might remember them as ‘the women who couldn’t be tamed’, but their lives would be thrown to ruin. Their existence would remain a sham.

No, she had whispered to herself, as she writhed into the soft bedding. If she still thirsted for revenge, she would have to marry Aemond. Keep him interested and relaxed – yearning for her voice and company.

… And if she had to whore herself to him to do it, she would obediently assume her role.

“I beg your pardon?” Aegon asked through another gulp of bitter wine, “Gods be good – I believe that now I’ve heard it all.”

Aemond paced about his brother’s room, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face set into a deep grimace. He hummed in admission to his brother’s words, and glanced his way with the instance of a hooded eye.

“There is to be no bedding ceremony.” He repeated himself with ease, “I frightened her enough already. The girl will be plenty uncomfortable without the aid of chafing eyes.”

His brother smiled and raised his brows in nothing else but blinding wonder. A small shake of his head indicated his perplexion, and a sharp inhale his drawn decision.

“Mother insisted upon it. You know that well.” The man steadied himself in his chair as he spoke, whilst letting out a small grunt at the contact that the wood made upon his burnt remnants of skin. “I don’t see any reason to annul it. Especially now, an eve before.”

Another sip of the stinging liquor interrupted his smooth and ready trail of thought. The Targaryen brushed off Aemond’s concerns, and gleefully bided his teasing.

“It’ll do the two of you good – you’ll get to see she’s as pure as a bastard girl can be; and she’ll have no deniability that any of her future heirs are yours.” He pointed his weary digit in the direction of his stiffened form and swallowed down a hefty laugh. “Not to mention that Lord Redwyne and Tarly already placed bets on the state of her maidenhead. Would be a shame to disappoint them both, don't you think?"

“What mother thinks is of no consequence. And the amusement of the Realm matters not to me. There will be no bedding ceremony.”

“Nonsense, Aemond. It is our duty to upkeep the Realm – and to entertain its inhabitants if need be.”

When his reckless teasing was met with glacial silence, Aegon sighed as he briskly leaned forward. He watched his sibling with an indiscernible expression across his scorched veneer, and yawned greatly at his indisposed behaviour.

“Of course, we’re here to talk it out. But after so much time spent in your company, I fail to see the necessity for such a thing.” A sly smirk danced across his puffy lips, “Are you concerned that she won’t bleed? Or that you’ll be too cunt-struck by her to last enough to make a statement?”

Aemond’s fists descended upon the polished wood of Aegon’d desk. He thrashed his brother with a defiant glare, and hissed through his gritted teeth, and tight-set jaw.

“There will be no bedding ceremony for my niece and I. Tell that to every Lord that wishes to glance upon my wife – if they do so much as to cast their eyes on her, they’ll be fucking their own wives with a wooden cock.”

Amusement laced with grave concern – the finality of Aemond's words ought to have vexed him, irk the King in his sibling's weighty insolence. Instead Aegon nodded, pushing back the feeling of dread that settled deep within his bones. His head jerked towards his closed oak door, signalling to his brother that his visit had been overstated. “What sort of brother would I be, to not grant you with this simple whim?”

The younger Targaryen mirrored his stance, and turned abruptly on his heel after a low grunt of gratitude.

His hand reached for the golden handle, but Aegon's words deterred him to a halt.

“But be careful with that one, Aemond. She’s brash and wholly unpredictable. Make sure the blood that stains your sheets come morning isn’t somehow your very own.”

Perma Tag List: @welcometothelioncage @kravitzwhore ♡

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bless-my-demons · 1 year

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Nine

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Cussing and a mild mention of killing vampires

Notes: This chapter is… the longest one yet and definitely my fav so far - I love me some protective men, enjoy!! [FYI: Y/m/n is your middle name]

Word Count: 5096

Series Masterlist

• March 12th, 2005 • Forks, WA •

Jasper

I pull my motorcycle to a stop at an outlook over the Olympic Forest just outside of town, not wanting to go far for her first ride, but also wanting to get her alone and just be. I reach a hand behind me for her to take as she climbs off before I pop out the kickstand and get off myself. She’s handing me my protective gear as I turn to see what’s got her eager to leave my side and I’m met with the second most gorgeous view, the first being the girl before me.

The deep green of the forest clashes against the oranges, pinks, and purples of the descending sun to make for a spectacular sunset. To make it even better, I can see the reflection of it in her eyes - the duality of beauty rendering me speechless for longer than I’d like to admit.

This gorgeous creature, this kind and beautiful soul before me is meant to be mine. My singer, the greatest temptation a vampire could ever experience and I have found her. How on earth a monster like me is supposed to be an equal for an angel like her, I might never know.

Reader

He’s staring at me in such a way that I feel completely alive. It’s causing my face to heat, but I could care less about being embarrassed-this beautiful sunset and the vampire next to me have snatched all rational thought.

I turn to meet his eyes and I can tell a million things are running through his mind by the slightly unfocused look. The hint of a grin on his perfect lips bring a smile to my own, “Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.

“You’d have millions.” He jokes, but I’m slightly lost and tilt my head. “My thoughts are nothing but you, darlin’. You’d have millions if you had a penny for each one.”

My mouth gapes like a fish for a few seconds, for someone so stoic usually, he sure can make a girl swoon. So instead of replying, I turn my gaze to his hands, running my fingers over them and up his wrist. Before they could ascend any further though, one of his hands reaches up to stop me. Fearing that I’ve unknowingly pushed a boundary, I glance up in alarm.

“There is a reason I wear sleeves, sweetheart.” He explains quietly with a sad half-smile.

“If you think any part of you could scare me, you’re wrong Hale.” I mean it and I know he can sense the truth of my words.

“I’ve done things, horrible things for a horrible person, and I did them without question-“

“So tell me and let me prove that none of that matters now.” I lift a brow daring him to defy me.

In response he pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal scarred forearms. Not just typical scarring, but bite marks. I let out a gasp at the hard ridges and pits that penetrate his skin, there must be hundreds and they have to have been painful to permanently damage the skin of a vampire. My wide eyes meet his and I can tell he’s holding his breath for what I might say.

“Who-what could do this to you? Why? How?” Questions begin tumbling from my lips as my fingers float across his damaged skin, anguish beginning to seep into my bones as his explanation begins.

“I was the youngest major in the Texas Calvary, evacuating women and children from the battlefield when I… came across three women that I thought required assistance. Being the gentleman and soldier I was, I offered them aid and it cost me my life.” He inhaled a deep breath before continuing, still watching my hands explore his skin. “Their leader Maria, was the one that changed me with the intention to use me as a general for her own army. An army of newly turned vampires, impossible for anyone, human or vampire, to beat. I was…” A heavy pause, “Also in charge of dispatching them once they outlived her usefulness for her.”

I meet his eyes as he struggles through that last sentence. Unbelievable. This man? This kind, gentle, sweet, considerate man was used to train and then kill other people for a woman clearly not strong enough to do it herself? I’m in shock at the audacity.

“If you’re waiting for me to run screaming, you’ll have to try harder.” I whisper, afraid I might scream in frustration should I speak any louder.

He puffs out a breath at my words and shakes his head. “You amaze me at every turn, you know that?” One hand pulls away from my touch to run fingers across my cheekbone in a tender gesture, drastically contrasting the story his skin tells.

“You think you can scare me, but I’m still here.” I’m here because I’m a magnet drawn to you and I don’t ever want to be pulled away, but I keep those words from slipping out with the rest.

“I’m a monster that has killed more people than I can remember, and that’s okay with you?” He asks honestly and bluntly, eyes searching mine.

“You did what was asked of you by someone that manipulated you, that is not on you and it does not make you a monster, Jasper.” The conviction in my voice is strong.

“You feel so strongly for my past and my demons, but you won’t let me in that pretty little mind of yours, why is that?” He taps on my temple gently, questioning my very being.

“Who said you aren’t already in here?” It’s my turn to tap my own temple, but my words and actions are a little more harsh now that my own demons are rushing to the surface. “You are in every single thought night and day, Hale-“

“Then why do you play this game - one moment you’re all in and the next you’re scared-“

“Because someone like you don’t waste their time with someone like me!” The quiet is deafening for a few beats following my confession. “You are gorgeous, and-and mysterious, and everything a girl could dream to have-“ but he interrupts my ramble with hands cradling my face.

“And utterly taken by you. You, darlin’. Never have I felt so alive, so seen by someone. Someone that is so incredible she caught me off guard with a door and a simple look, me-a vampire!” His words are frantic.

“I’m just a plain ‘ole regular girl like everyone else, the one you date before the real one comes along and-”

“No.” One word, one syllable and yet it holds so much weight. “Do not diminish yourself because of the value you’ve placed upon me, I will not allow it.”

What do I even say to that? Before I could articulate a response, his face lowers and his forehead rests on mine. “You are everything I need and I want you to understand that I’m not going anywhere and no other will ever take me away from you or catch my eye if you’re worried about something like that.”

A rumble in the distance reminds us of our surroundings again, darkness having moved in and a storm notifying us that it’s on the way.

“Let me get you home, sweetheart.” A kiss is delicately placed high on my cheekbone, tender and cool to soothe the heat that might be permanently settled there.

• March 13th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

The outing with Jasper yesterday has had my mind in a spin since he dropped me off at home. I can’t believe he not only indulged my request, but that I got to essentially be a human backpack for an insanely hot vampire. And our conversation… I can’t even - he flipped my world around and stole my breath away.

I’m still breathless. And looking for my stupid hat.

“Mom, have you seen my Cubs baseball hat?” I yell from the top of the stairs.

“No sweetie, did you check the bottom of the hall closet? Maybe it fell in there!” She yelled back from her spot fixing lunch in the kitchen.

I huff and run to the closet, swinging the door open and spotting the blue hat tossed haphazardly on top of our snowshoes. Great, now I’ll smell like feet. I hurry to the bathroom and grab the fabric spray from under the sink as the front doorbell rings.

Shit-shit-shit, he’s early! I finish tying my shoes to prevent myself from tripping down the stairs in my haste. As I reach the top, I hear my mother beat me to the front door to invite Jasper in, swinging the door wide in her excitement at a boy standing on our front porch.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” He drawls in his southern accent, he offers his hand out to shake my mother’s, “Jasper Hale.” His eyes flicking up to meet mine as I descend the stairs, my mother accepting the gentlemanly gesture.

“Oh good afternoon dear!” My mother turns to me, “I made lunch in the kitchen if you two are hungry.”

“No thanks mom, we’ll just get going!” I tell her breathlessly, popping a kiss to her cheek as I brush past, “Love you!”

She sputters a second, trying to catch up, “Love you too dear, just be home at a reasonable time!” She yells after me, standing in the doorway to our home.

“I won’t keep her too late, ma’am.” Jasper flashes her a smile, “Promise I’ll keep her safe, to the best of my ability.” Finally he gives in to my tug of his jacket sleeve to follow me down the front steps.

My mother continues to stand on the porch, watching us like a hawk as Jasper opens the passenger door for me to Edward’s Volvo. He throws a wink at me before shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side, waving goodbye to my mother who returns it.

“In a hurry, doll?” He asks, placing his right hand on my headrest as he leans over to back out of my drive.

I can’t think straight when he invades my space like this, “I just spared you from the third degree my mother was about to lay on you back there. You’re welcome, Hale.” I huff, trying to not let his proximity affect me.

He chuckles, for what I’m not entirely sure: my increasing heart rate or the comment about my mother.

“I think I can handle your mom.” He eventually responds, hands now having returned to safe territory on the steering wheel.

“Oh of that I have no doubt, but she would’ve kept us entirely too long and I’m not about to let you keep me from watching the most interesting game of baseball I’ve ever witnessed.” I responded.

Lord knows my mother would’ve embarrassed me by asking what his intentions were and we don’t need that kind of talk. We don’t need it yet, anyways.

• March 13th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

Jasper parked the car in the garage of his massive home, if a work of architecture could be called ‘home’. He speeds around to the passenger side to open my door before I even got the chance to reach for the handle.

“I can open my own door, you know?” I mention as I stand from the car.

“Where I’m from, a lady should never have to open a door for herself.” He states matter-of-factly, shutting the door and moving past me to lead the way, arm brushing my shoulder and creating goosebumps in its wake.

Flustered by his chivalry, I follow him silently inside.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, taking in the view of the forest from the large windows.

It takes him a minute to respond, having disappeared somewhere momentarily just to return with a jacket draped over his arm and a warm-looking scarf in hand.

“Edward is picking up Isabella and should be here any moment to get us. The rest of my family is in the clearing warming up.” He answers, draping the scarf around my neck with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Before I could comment on the look, Edward honked impatiently from the driveway.

Jasper

A little part of me wishes I just ran to the clearing while Y/n rode with Edward and Bella, just to clear my head from her scent. The rest of me is happy to have a few more moments in her presence, even if for just a little while.

I make eye contact with my brother in the rear view mirror, knowing he can read my thoughts. He gives a small dip of his chin in acknowledgment, as if to say he understands the internal conflict of wanting to be close to her while knowing it’s also torture to do so.

“Are you warm enough?” I ask, catching her rubbing her hands together in her lap.

“Oh I’ll be fine, I’m just excited is all.” She responds, I can tell she isn’t entirely telling the truth the way the little white lie taints her emotions. Unfortunately I can’t tell if it’s about the temperature or her excitement at the prospect of watching a vampire baseball game. I chuckle and glance out my window, now I know how Edward feels not being able to read Isabella’s thoughts.

My brother lets out a small laugh himself causing the women to turn on us, “What?” They ask in sync.

“Edward finds my thoughts amusing is all, nothing to worry about darlin’.” I tell Y/n. I notice her face blanche and immediately realize I never told her of Edward’s power.

“He-he what?” She stutters, clearly worrying over the invasion of privacy she was never warned about and I kick myself for not having this conversation beforehand.

“Edward can read the thoughts of those in his vicinity. He’s respectful with his power though, he wouldn’t invade your privacy like that.” I reassure her, using a portion of my power to round out some of her nerves.

“I can hear you, but it sort of passes through.” Edward hesitates, “It’s like sitting in a room full of people conversing, but not really paying attention even though you can hear them talking all at once. I’m used to communicating with Jasper this way, I apologize for not prefacing my abilities sooner.” He finishes, glancing back to look over his shoulder with a sad smile.

“Thank you Edward, I appreciate that very much.” Y/n sighs, “I think it’s actually a pretty amazing power to have.” She tells him with a smile.

“Sometimes it is,” Edward glances to Bella, “Sometimes it isn’t.”

“Why did we have to wait for a thunderstorm to play baseball?” She turns to ask me innocently after a beat of silence.

“Oh you’re about to see.” I tell her with a grin as Edward pulls the Jeep to a stop at the edge of a clearing, the rest of my family gathered not far away.

As I help her out of Emmett’s Wrangler, I remove my jacket to place around her shoulders.

“Before you say anything, I don’t need it. Keep it warm for me.” I can’t resist placing a kiss to the crown of her head, her scent mingling with mine making for a heady mixture. I turn and lead her to where everyone is gathered, Emmett sending a pointed look my way at the interaction he just witnessed. I shrug as a way of answering, trying not to make it a big deal since he’s always been worried about my loneliness the last few decades.

“Alright let’s pick teams!” Carlisle announces, attempting to wrangle our rowdy bunch.

Reader

As the Cullen’s separate into their teams, I follow Esme as she tugs Bella and I over to home plate explaining the game. Carlisle and Rosalie play-flight over who gets to go first, but my eye is on Jasper as he warms up with a few test-swings with a bat.

“We could use a few impartial opinions.” Esme smiles at us, shifting Bella and I to stand behind her as she assumes the ‘catcher’ position.

Rose is up to bat first, Jasper and Carlisle on her team while Emmett, Edward, and Alice make up the opposition. The latter taking up her place at the pitcher’s mound - she nods her head and announces, “It’s time.”

First pitch from Alice and Rose absolutely smashes it, the thunder cracking in time with the strike of the bat.

“Okay, now I see why you need the thunder.” Bella says, impressed. “That’s gotta be a home run, right?”

Rosalie rounds second and heads for third, a blonde blur on the field. “Edward is fast.” Esme tells her with confidence.

Right when I think there’s no possible way Edward could get his sister out before she slides home, a baseball rockets it’s way out of the woods and straight into Esme’s hands. Tagging her adoptive daughter with the ball, she looks over her shoulder at us for confirmation.

“You’re out!” Bella motions a thumb over her shoulder at a very not happy Rose.

I turn to look at Jasper, completely blown away by what transpired, but I’m distracted in the way he idly spins his baseball bat. My emotions must catch his attention, because he doesn’t stop as he makes eye contact. Who knew something so basic as flipping a bat could be so attractive?

“Babe, c’mon! It’s just a game!” Emmett yells from across the field, garnering my attention from his brother.

Rosalie brushes past Bella to intimidate her umpire call as Carlisle takes his place at home plate. Another beautiful pitch by Alice and powerful swing by the doctor, the ball heads straight for the middle ground between the two brothers in the outfield. Colliding together, they miss the ball and their dad claims second base.

Next up is Jasper and I’m positively vibrating with excitement to see him in action. Showing off again with his idle bat tossing, he settles in and sends Alice’s next ball into orbit, but Emmett manages to snag it out of thin air.

“My monkey man.” Rose says proudly from her spot next to me, I huff in aggravation at Jasper getting out so early.

Just as Rosalie takes her second turn and is running for first base, Alice yells out a warning, “Stop!”

After a few seconds and hearing something that clearly Bella and I fail to pick up with our human ears, the family not gathered around us returns to our sides in a hurry.

“They were leaving and then they heard us-“

“Let’s go.” Edward cuts off Alice to grab for Bella, but Carlisle stops his son.

“It’s too late.”

Jasper is at my side as the rest of his family shuffled around us, “What’s happening?” I ask him worriedly.

“Vampires, they heard us playing and are on their way here.” He answers me completely serious, zipping up his jacket that I’m wearing. “Stay behind me, don’t move and don’t attract their attention.”

“Jas-“

“No one touches you.” He meets my eyes as his words send ice through my veins, will it come to that?

I will my heart to calm as I get shuffled to stand behind him and Emmett, I rest a hand on Jasper’s back to anchor myself.

I can’t see them from my hiding spot, but I hear one with a slight accent, “I believe this belongs to you?”

“Thank you.” Carlisle replies curtly.

“I am Laraunt, this is Victoria and James.”

“I’m Carlisle, this is my family.” I feel Jasper tense under my hand like he’s concentrating. Readying for a fight? What do I do if this turns into a vampire brawl?

I turn to look at Edward over my shoulder but he doesn’t meet my gaze and Bella has her head turned down. Hiding her eyes I realize - her human eyes, acting shy in the face of new vampires so that they might not be interested in her.

Carlisle and the one speaking for the group, Laraunt, continue their efficient conversation as I step closer to Jasper. From this position I can see all three strangers and fear begins to worm it’s way into my chest. I’ve become so comfortable with the Cullens’ that I’ve forgotten they’re vampires. Vampires as dangerous as the ones before me look, minus the red eyes.

The tall one missing a shirt, James presumably since Laraunt and Carlisle are still conversing, seems to lock in on Bella and Edward. The grip I have on Jasper tightens and he reaches a hand back to pat the outside of my thigh in reassurance at his earlier statement.

“So, could you use three more players?” My heart almost stops, how do we get out of this? “Come on, just one game?”

Seemingly reading my mind, Carlisle plays along with a little chuckle, “Sure, why not. A few of us were leaving, you could take their place.” I feel Jasper’s arm nudge me in the direction of Edward and Bella, a sign to join their departure.

“We’ll bat first.” Carlisle announces, throwing the ball to the newcomers as our group begins to separate.

“I’m the one with the wicked curve ball.” The female, Victoria taunts in a low voice.

Jasper let’s out a low laugh, “Well I think we can handle that.”

As everyone begins to take their new places and I make my way towards Bella, I notice that one of the new males seems zoned-in on Edward, or rather, Bella. Next thing I know, a breeze shifts Bella’s hair and my heart shudders in my chest - the wind, our scent-

“You brought a snack?” James threatens as he leans into a crouch. Snapping his gaze to me as I let out a gasp, “Two snacks?”

Jasper let’s out a deep growl as he lunges in front of me, the rest of his family surrounding Bella and I in a protective stance.

“The girls are with us.” Carlisle asserts, “I think it best if you leave.”

“I can see the game is over, we’ll go now.” The one in charge tries to placate the tense situation. “James.”

As the new vampires turn to leave, Carlisle urges Edward and Jasper, “Get Bella and Y/n out of here, go!”

The four of us jog back to Emmett’s Jeep, Jasper keeping me from stumbling in the mud.

“Okay I’ve got it-I’ve got it, I’m alright!” Bella yells at Edward while he tries to buckle her in. “What, n-now he’s coming after me? Us?”

“Listen to me-James is a tracker, the hunt is his obsession. I read his mind, our reaction on the field set him off. We just made this his most exciting game ever, he’s never going to stop.” Edward explains, frantic in his words and his driving.

“So what do we do?” Bella panics.

“We kill him-“ Jasper starts.

“Rip him apart and burn the pieces.” Edward finishes.

“Where are we going?”

“Away from Forks. We’ll get a ferry to Vancouver.”

“I have to go home, now. You have to take me home.” Bella orders him.

“You can’t go home, he’s just going to trace your scent there-it’s the first place he’s going to look.”

My chest constricts, my mom. Jasper grabs my hand, no doubt feeling my growing fear. “My mom.” I whisper to him as his eyes bounce between mine searching for what to say.

“My dad is there!-“

“It doesn’t matter!”

“Yes it does! He could get killed because of us! What about Y/n’s mom?!”

“Just let me get you out of here first, alright? Neither one of you are safe.”

“It’s my dad, we have to go back!” She argues back, exasperated. “We’ll figure out a way to lead the tracker away somehow-I don’t know, but we have to do something!”

“Jasper, you have to take me home.” I plead with him while squeezing his hand.

“Darlin’, I-“

“I’ll go anywhere you want me to, I just need to make sure she’s okay! If I disappear, she’ll hunt me down.” I try to reason with him, short of panicking myself.

Pulling up at Bella’s house, both her and Edward leap out of their seats and for the door. Just as Bella slams the front door in his face putting on a show, Jasper hops in the driver’s seat and peels out of the driveway in the direction of my house.

“You go inside, make up a reason to leave tonight. I’ll wait in the car, but if you aren’t out in five minutes, I’m coming in to get you.” He orders me and I nod.

“Thank you, I can’t leave her without saying anything… Thank you, Jasper.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m taking you far from here until this is settled.” His voice steady even though my life is turning upside down as we speak.

As the large vehicle rumbles to a stop just in front of my porch, I leap from my seat. The light above the door flicking on, my mother swings it open before my fingers could grab the handle.

“Everything alri-“

“No, mom.” I brush past her to ascend the stairs. “Bella is leaving for her mom’s tonight, I need to go with her!”

“Sweetheart, it’s too late for a drive like that!” She says, chasing me.

“She can’t drive by herself, she needs me mom! I can make sure she’s safe and keep you updated.” I plead with her as I throw random articles of clothing in my empty gym bag.

“Y/n, you can’t-“

“Mom,” I turn to her, dead serious, “I’m going whether you let me or not. She’s my best friend and she needs to leave. I can at least make sure she’s okay and gets to her mom’s. I’ll turn around and come right back afterwards!”

“Your phone stays on and charged.” She says with her hands on her hips, “I call, you better answer after the first ring. Anything - and I mean anything happens, you call me and Chief Swan immediately, Y/n Y/m/n.”

“Yes ma’am.” I snatch my bag and give her a hug as I rush out of my room. “I love you.” I murmur into her shoulder.

“You’re my world, sweetheart. Please be careful?” I nod, “I love you too.”

After a peck to my head, I race down the stairs and back out to the Jeep.

“It’s going to be alright.” Jasper tries to soothe me, both with his words and an artificial wave of calm.

“Don’t.” I bristle, “Nothing about this is alright.”

Immediately the foreign feeling vacates me and a coldness slides into my chest. I know he was only trying to help me, but I can’t take it, I can’t take the easy way out right now. So I glance out my window as the trees rush past on our way to his house.

• March 13th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Jasper

This day-this whole thing is fucked. And not at all how I saw this weekend going. I promised her mother I would keep her safe and now a fucking group of nomadic vampires is hunting her and Isabella.

Three vampires aren’t really much when it comes to my family of seven, but seeing as I’m the only one trained to… deal with the dispatching of vampires besides Carlisle, the odds aren’t great that we all come out of this unscathed.

And Y/n. This fragile human that already means so much to me is caught in the middle, caught up in my dangerous world. I told her that nothing and no one touches her and I meant it. If I can be sure of one thing, I know I can do this for her.

Slamming on the breaks as the Jeep slides into the garage, I grab Y/n’s hand as she meets me behind the vehicle. I tried to soothe her worry after we left her house, but I obeyed her request to stop. I almost feel useless - not being allowed to do what I do best and fix emotions, but I know her sense of autonomy shouldn’t be infringed upon if I want her to let me in. I slam the button to shut the garage door to shield us from potential prying eyes and make my way across the enclosed space.

“What now?” Y/n asks me as I throw her bag in the trunk of Carlisle’s Mercedes.

“I stay with you, no matter what. You and Isabella, I can protect the both of you.” I turn and meet her gaze, resting a hand on her cheek in reassurance. “You are mine to protect and I take that charge very seriously.” My words snatch her breath, so I give her a half-smile.

“After… everything, you’re not opposed to violence, Hale?”

“For you? Violence is my middle name, darlin’.” Before I could comment on the shudder the wracks through her and the arousal trickling into her scent and emotions, my family rejoins us in the garage.

Snatching the keys to the Mercedes Emmett tosses my way, I seperate myself from Y/n.

“I’ve had to fight our kind before,” I hesitate choosing my words, glancing at Y/n, “We’re not easy to kill.”

“But not impossible.” My brother responds.

“I don’t relish the thought of killing another creature, even a sadistic one like James.” Carlisle laments.

“What if he kills one of us first?” Rose questions harshly from her seat on the counter.

“I’m going to run Bella south and lead the tracker away from here-“ but Carlisle stops Edward before he could finish.

“No, Edward. James knows you’d never leave Bella. He’ll follow you.” My adoptive father glances at me, “Jasper-“

“I’m not leaving her.” I level my gaze on Carlisle and boost my words with my power, “None of you are trained like me, I stay with what he wants - the girls.”

“I’ll go with them, Jasper and I will drive them south.” Alice pipes up, “I’ll keep her safe, Edward.”

“Can you keep your thoughts to yourself?” I can feel Alice’s hesitation in what I feel is her confidence in the outcome of all this.

I will that emotion away immediately, nothing will hinder a positive outcome in this scenario. Y/n and Isabella will make it through this unscathed and James will die, end of story. Nothing threatens what’s mine or my family’s and lives, nothing.

#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #twilight #jasper hale x reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x female!reader #female reader insert #romance

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anakin-pilled · 9 months

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𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 - anakin skywalker x fem! reader (part one)

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem! reader

wordcount: 4.8k

warnings: minimal uses of y/n (trying to avoid writing this as much as possible but sometimes u need to!), awkwardness, anakin needs a break, POV switching (im trying something new, but its still in 3rd POV), reader is a popstar (very loosely based of taylor swift), too many scenes (i'll limit it next chapter) rating: 18+ (my blog is 18+ only)

rating: 18+ (my blog is 18+ only)

taglist: lmk if u want to be added!

author's note: well, here it is!! my first anakin fanfic!! i was listening to gorgeous by taylor swift and it just reminded me of how much i hate beautiful men (hayden christensen) and the effect they have on me and then this feeling just spirialed and became a fanfic--and my first ever mini series! i'm aiming for four or five parts? enjoy!!! (proofread but if u see a mistake pls tell me). sorry if the first part is boring, i'm just trying to set the vibe and introduce the major plot elements! creds to saradika for the header!

All Anakin Skywalker wanted was one, uninterrupted kriffing break. Yet, even that seemed like too much to ask from the Maker. With an annoyed sigh, Anakin quickly ended the call on his comlink and made his way out of his living quarters and towards the Jedi Council’s meeting room. “What do they want from me now?” Anakin thought to himself.

It wasn’t unusual for Anakin to sport an attitude, but lately, his foul mood had been exacerbated in the last few months for several reasons. Anakin’s recent breakup with Padme laid heavy in his heart. As the war raged on and both of their duties called them away for weeks, even months, at a time, the young couple rarely had time to see each other. It was supposed to be a small break at first–Padme was working on an important bill that could change the tide of the war, so she wanted to focus all her energy on gaining support for the bill from fellow Senators and campaigning for its passage on the Senate floor. So, Padme suggested that she and Anakin take a quick pause on their relationship until she was finished with the bill. But even after the bill passed, Padme was too consumed by her senatorial duties to put her all into a relationship. Anakin was just as busy on the battlefields, traveling to distant systems, and ensuring that the Separatists did not win any more than they already had. However, he was still willing to put an effort into their relationship because he loved Padme more than life itself. Padme was Anakin’s first love, and they had already been through so much together. Didn’t that mean something? It was late one night when the couple retired to Padme’s apartment that she dropped the news. Anakin felt as if his whole world shattered. He begged on his knees to Padme, to give them another chance. She insisted it was for the best and that she would reach out to him in a few months when she felt ready. Anakin would be lying if he said a part of him was shocked. After all, Padme put her job as Senator above everything else. But still, it hurt knowing that the one person who he would abandon everything for, would not do the same for him.

Aside from the breakup, Anakin was tired of the constant fighting, the rising death toll, and the never-ending chaos that always seemed to follow him. The 501st Clone Battalion’s most recent war campaign was brutal, and they lost a few men to Trandoshan separatists while in battle at a small, Outer Rim planet. Anyone could see that Anakin thrived in war. He was nicknamed the “Hero With No Fear” for a reason. But, the death of his men, or any man under Republic forces, always left his heart and mind unsettled.

As Anakin reached the door to the Jedi Council, he quickly shook his head as if to ward away his dark thoughts. He really should meditate more. The door opened and Anakin was greeted with the sight of the Jedi Masters sitting in a circle, he noticed many of them appeared via holoprojectors.

“Hello masters,” Anakin said with a bow. He looked around until he met eyes with Obi-Wan, who happened to be off-planet at the moment. Obi-Wan gave Anakin an uneasy smile which blared the alarms in Anakin’s head. Anakin was already in a defensive mode due to his rocky relationship with the council.

It was Mace Windu who spoke first. “General Skywalker, we have called you here today to discuss an upcoming mission. It is to our understanding that you are currently on a break right now, however, you were specifically requested by the Chancellor for this task.” It must be an important mission if the Chancellor himself requested that Anakin carry it out.

“There will be an upcoming charity event hosted in honor of the Republic to raise funds for the war effort. The event is being held in Corulag in ten rotations from now. While Corulag is part of the Republic, there have been recent Separatist activities within the planet and its system,” Master Windu continued.

“And what will I need to do while in Corulag?” Anakin asked with a slight edge in his voice. He really didn’t want to travel off-world.

“You will be the personal escort and bodyguard to the charity’s main event, singer (Y/N) (L/N). She will be performing a show as part of the charity and her presence is estimated to bring in a lot of credits for the war effort. While we don’t personally believe there will be a threat on her life, the Chancellor suspects that the Separatists may try to infiltrate the singer as a way to ruin the charity’s efforts.”

Anakin felt his annoyance flare up again. He was being taken away from his well-deserved break time to babysit a singer? This was a job that even a Padawan could carry–Ahsoka could do it with her eyes closed.

Even through the holoprojector, Obi-Wan could see the tale tell signs of his former student’s growing anger. He pitied the boy. Obi-Wan felt that Anakin deserved his break, especially after his most recent mission. However, it was not up to Obi-Wan alone to make these decisions. With the war prolonging itself more than necessary and the expenses rising every day, the Republic needed as many credits as it could get from its supporters. Obi-Wan quickly piqued up from the side to calm his friend, “Anakin, the Chancellor personally requested you as the singer is a family friend of his, and he trusts you. The Council will discuss giving you vacation time after completing your mission.” As vexed as Anakin might have been at first, he certainly didn’t want to disappoint the Chancellor. He had no choice but to accept the mission. Anakin silently nodded to the council.

“Recieve more instructions tomorrow, you will. Rest for now,” said Yoda from his chair.

And with that, the meeting was over. Anakin said his goodbyes with a bow and walked out.

After Anakin left the meeting, he headed towards the Jedi Archives to conduct some research on his new mission. He wasn’t interested in who the singer was, or what she did. Rather, he wanted to know what kind of person she was–was she a controversial celebrity, or did she stay in the lines? Anakin prayed he wasn’t dealing with some crazy, entitled celebrity who did whatever she wanted. That would make his mission harder than it needed to be. He had heard of the singer’s name in passing from Ahsoka, who kept up with recent trends via the HoloNet. As a General and a Jedi Knight, Anakin no longer had the same sense of freedom that he had as a Padawan, even though he had much less freedom than his other Padawan counterparts. “Perks of being the Chosen One, I suppose,” Anakin bitterly whispered to himself.

Anakin filtered past the front desk of the Archives after giving Madame Jocasta a quick nod and small time. He wanted to be in and out so he could get food from the Temple’s cantina before retreating to his living quarters for the night.

“What do you mean they are assigning a Jedi Knight as my security detail?! I thought this was supposed to be a simple concert for a charity event, why are they assigning a Jedi if there is no imminent danger?!” you exclaimed to your manager, Gido Frisco, with a pointed look.

When you agreed to perform at this charity event, you did so because you wanted to help raise credits for the Republic. Your management discouraged you from having any outspoken opinions on politics as it could lead to alienation from fans and tabloid backlash. But after your home planet became a recent victim to Separatist forces, you could no longer idly sit by and continue living as if the war didn’t affect you. When the charity’s organizers approached you to do this event, you happily agreed because all the credits earned were going to a meaningful cause. To the Republic. To democracy.

The event was to consist of several performances by famous artists from throughout the Core Worlds, but you were the headlining event. Though you would humbly deny it, your popularity superseded everyone else set to perform. The media and your fans dubbed you “the Galaxy’s princess” due to your popularity as a singer across the Galactic Core. You hated that nickname. You were very far from a princess–you were just lucky enough to be born with an innate musical talent. Nonetheless, you were still treated as if you were royalty.

“Look, I’m going to be blunt with you. There has been Separatist activity in and around Corulag, but we don’t predict that it will directly affect you. Think of the Jedi as an extra security personnel. They won’t let anybody or anything hurt you,” explained Gido.

“Who is we?”

“We as in myself, and the Chancellor. He was quite worried for your safety when he heard of your acceptance to perform.” That made much more sense. The Chancellor, an old family friend of yours, often looked out for you throughout your years on Coruscant. You had no family on the planet as all your family lived on Bar’leth, only visiting you every few months. While you saw them as often as you could, the help and care they provided you was limited to messages on your holo tablet and calls via communicator. The Chancellor took it upon himself to help you whenever he could. You were extremely grateful for his help, but you couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the thought of having a Jedi accompany you. You knew Jedis were the peacekeepers of the galaxy. As the war started and worsened, the Jedi were thrust into a new, partial position. Where the Jedi went, trouble unfortunately followed. Would more trouble follow you if you were accompanied by a Jedi than if you were not? Only time would tell.

“Very well. And when will I meet this Jedi?”

“You will meet him tomorrow morning. Please do not stress the situation. We are merely taking precautions. Rest for tonight and we will talk more in the morning. Goodnight, princess.” And with that, Gido walked out of your apartment and you were left alone.

You walked outside and onto your balcony and observed the night sky. Your eyes followed the speeders flying through the air–a cacophony of honks and whizzes! reached your ears. You leaned upon the stone masonry of the balcony’s railing and rested your elbows on its surface. You then laid your cheek in your palm and closed your eyes as the lights of Corscuant reflected off your statue. You took into the slight breeze of the night and enjoyed this moment of serenity. Who knows what the next few rotations will bring? You could only hope you would suffer a nicer faith than your home planet. Your eyes opened, and you retreated into the lush interior of your apartment and began your nightly routine.

Holy kriff, this man is kriffing gorgeous! Those were the first words that popped into your head when you saw the Jedi knight walk into your living room. It was early in the morning. You thought he was only supposed to accompany you at the charity benefit, but your team thought it would be best if he accompanied you throughout the week as you prepared for the event and ran errands.

As he walked closer to you, you felt your mouth run dry and a creeping heating sensation sprouted from the base of your neck to your cheeks. You could only hope he didn’t feel the heat radiating off your body. He was wearing dark-colored robes, with a maroon long-sleeve undershirt, and only one leather glove on his right arm. Was this a fashion statement of some kind? Gido spoke up before you could say anything.

“Welcome, and thank you for being here Jedi. I can assure you that it means very much to us and I hope that you find yourself comfortable for the next few rotations. Our team will do its best to ensure you are properly accommodated. My name is Gido Frisco, and I am (Y/N)’s manager.” Gido reached out his hand for Anakin to shake. Anakin took his hand in a firm grip and replied.

“Thank you. My name is Anakin Skywalker, general of the 501st Legion. I will do my best to keep (Y/N) safe.”

Anakin. You had heard of him before–he was the Republic’s poster boy and a very successful leader. Though you knew of him, you had yet to put a face to the name until now. Instead of making eye contact with the man, you simply stared at the ground until Gido included you in the conversation.

“And this is (Y/N),” Gido said.

You then looked up at Anakin and made eye contact with the gorgeous man in front of you. Your eyes widened slightly as you took in the color of his eyes. They were a dazzling shade of blue that was highlighted by the scar running down the right side of his forehead to underneath his eye.

There was an awkward moment of silence before you stuttered as you reintroduced your name to Anakin and shook his hand. Shit, he's strong, you thought as he shook your hand with a firm grasp. If there was one thing you were weak for, it was a strong man. A strong, beautiful man!

“Pleasure to meet you too. I’ll be at your service this week,” Anakin stated with a small smile. Kriff, even his voice was attractive! You could only stare at him and nod. You were truly at a loss for words. Wait, can he hear my thoughts right now? You thought to yourself. You heard the Jedi could use the Force to read minds, but you didn’t know if this was just a rumor. You hoped it was just a rumor or you'd find yourself burying yourself six feet under the ground out of embarrassment.

“Well, now that you two are acquainted, I’ll be taking Anakin so we can go over the security details. Stay here until then.” Gido then led Anakin out of the room and that was the last you saw of the Jedi until dinner time.

When Anakin woke up the next morning, he walked toward the Temple’s catina to grab a warm cup of caf and breakfast. The food was meager most days, but it beat having to live off the plain-tasting ration bars that he ate most of the time when he was on missions and campaigns. As Anakin walked through the tables to find a seat, he was greeted by the site of his former master sipping on a cup of tea and conversing with Ahsoka.

“Ahh, Anakin. Nice to see you this morning. I am terribly sorry that you have been called upon for another mission. I do believe that your rest was well-deserved, but unfortunately, I had no power over this decision,” Obi-Wan stated as he continued to sip on his tea.

“Thanks, Master. I can’t say I’m particularly excited about this, but hopefully, after this is done, I can properly enjoy my rest.”

“Master, you’re so lucky! I am so jealous of you right now. I wish I could join you, but Master Sinabu has requested that I assist him in a few lessons with the younglings,” Ashoka pipped in. “Hey, do you think you could get me an autograph?” She was excited. Ahsoka was no stranger to being in the company of high-profile people, but most of the time, it was limited to officials and members of the Senate. Boring! The thought of her master working with one of the most famous singers of this generation was honestly hilarious to her. A part of her wished it was her on this mission instead. The last time Anakin was on babysitting duty was when Ahsoka first joined Anakin as his Padawan was to rescue Jabba the Hutt’s son. Much like Anakin, Ahsoka believed this task could’ve been carried out by a Padawan, but as Obi-Wan explained to her, the Chancellor personally requested Anakin for this task.

“Snips, I’m there to protect, not get autographs. Try practicing your mediation skills, and maybe I’ll get you an autograph,” Anakin said with a small smirk on his face. Much like him in his Padawan days, Ahsoka found meditating tedious and boring. He honestly should meditate more to set a better example, but Anakin’s teaching method was more of “Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Oh come on Skyguy! You owe me this favor after I saved your butt back on Florrum. What would you have done if I wasn’t there to save you from all those assassin droids?” quipped Ashoka with a slight raise in her eyebrows. Damn, she got me there, thought Anakin to himself. But, he wasn’t going to let her have this win so easily. One might say that Anakin was acting immature for his age, but he and Ahsoka’s relationship thrived off witty remarks and friendly competition. Anakin’s relationship with Ahsoka was one of the most precious things in his life.

“Except I won our last sparring battle. That makes us even, no?” Ahsoka’s smile quickly dropped, and she glared at her master. Anakin took a sip of his caf and continued, “Only kidding, Snips. I’ll try to get you that autograph. I might be too busy trying to keep this singer out of trouble.”

Obi-Wan observed his former student and Ahsoka with fondness. “Do not worry, young one. You will beat Anakin one day. A student is only as good as their teacher, and you have a good teacher. I would know–I taught him,” Obi-Wan joked with the two. “Anakin, I hope this mission goes smoothly. I know how badly your last assignment went.” Obi-Wan placed his hand on Anakin’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Though Anakin’s ego subsided since he lost his arm at the Battle of Geonosis, it didn’t mean he liked talking about his failures. The Separatists somehow acquired important Republic intel and managed to ruin Anakin’s battle strategy with a surprise attack. He and his men just barely made it out on time before a full Separatist takeover happened. Anakin’s appetite was ruined by the thought of it.

Suddenly, Anakin’s commlink beeped and he knew it was time to head out to the hangar and receive his instructions for the week. He said his farewells to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka before going to the hangar, where he was surprisingly greeted by the Chancellor. The older man smiled at Anakin and shook his hand.

“Anakin, my boy. I cannot express my gratitude to you for accepting this assignment. You see, I specifically asked for you because I knew that I could trust you with my dear family friend. I do hope that you take care of her well.”

“Of course, Chancellor. She will be safe under my watch.”

“Now, she shouldn’t give you any trouble. She is a well-mannered girl. However, I have just received secret Separatist intel and wanted to share it with you before I visit the council. According to the intel, Count Dooku has ordered intelligence to interfere with the benefit. Our report says that he is planning on hacking our broadcasting signal and threatening the talent for the whole galaxy to see. For what, I do not not know. While we do expect the benefit to raise many credits for the Republic, the show will also provide a boost in morale for the citizens of the Republic. I theorize that Count Dooku wishes to ruin the public’s perception of the Republic’s efficiency and control over the war and the talent are a way to do this,” explained Chancellor Palpatine.

Anakin furrowed his brows. “Seems like Count Dooku is running out of scare tactics. Chancellor, the Jedi will ensure that the benefit proceeds as expected and that no harm comes to anyone there.”

The Chancellor smiled at Anakin’s words. “Thank you, my boy. Now I mustn’t take any more of your time. I will let you go now. You will receive more information on the Separatist intel later on.”

Anakin and the Chancellor shook hands once more before Anakin boarded his ship and plugged in the coordinates provided to him by the council.

Anakin’s first impression of you was that you were pretty. A delicate kind of pretty that Anakin had only seen in one other person before, Padme. But as quickly as the thought entered his conscious, he pushed it toward the back of his mind. What was he even thinking? He chalked up to him missing Padme. Yeah…Anakin just missed Padme and now that he was in the same familiar situation that he was in a few years ago when he first met Padme, familiar feelings are rising. After all, this wasn’t the first time Anakin had been sent on bodyguard duty for a well-known beautiful public figure.

Your manager introduced himself to Anakin and then introduced you to him. Though he wasn’t excited about this mission, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit relieved that he would be staying in your luxurious apartment for the next few rotations until you traveled off-world. It wasn’t very often that the Jedi were afforded such accommodations. Anakin had spent his fair share of nights seeking refuge in strange, foreign biomes with only mere sticks and leaves as shelter. If he couldn’t sleep in the comfort of his private quarters at the Temple, he might as well enjoy the lavish high-rise Coruscanti apartment.

Despite Anakin’s initial impression of you, your reaction toward him was…intriguing. Based on his research last night, Anakin couldn’t anything on the HoloNet that painted you in a bad light. Sure, there were the occasional tabloid articles that made outrageous claims about you, but all of those were overridden by the amount of good publicity you got. Charismatic, friendly, confident, a sweetheart–these were all words used to describe you by the various media outlets. But the person standing in front of Anakin seemed everything but that.

Your nervous energy radiated off you and permeated Anakin’s senses through the force. You avoided eye contact with him until your manager forced you to properly look at Anakin and introduce yourself to him. You definitely didn’t seem as confident as the Holo Net made you out to be, but Anakin didn’t fault you for this. He’s sure you felt nervous in the presence of a Jedi because it implied that there was some danger lurking around. If there wasn’t, he wouldn’t have been assigned to his task. What did you know about the terrors of war and the cruel reality of death and destruction? You were just a rich celebrity located within the safe confines of the Galatic Core. Anakin felt a twinge of jealousy at this notion. He knew that he belonged with the Jedi, but Anakin couldn’t help but feel envy at the fact that you were simply an innocent civilian whose daily life was virtually unaffected by the war. You didn’t have to witness violent bloodshed, say goodbye to your comrades, and live life constantly on the move. Sometimes Anakin longed for his days on Tatooine when he lived with his mother and worked in Watto’s workshop. He was a poor slaveboy, but at least he had his mother, and life was relatively peaceful. Before Anakin could harp on these thoughts any longer, he caught a stray thought that didn’t belong to him.

Kriff, even his voice was attractive! Anakin was sure the thought didn’t belong to Gido, so he could only assume that it belonged to the woman standing in front of him. Anakin internally smirked to himself. Could it be that Anakin made you nervous for reasons other than him being a Jedi? Perhaps…you found Anakin attractive. Anakin didn’t care if you found him attractive, but it did boost his ego a bit. It seems his split from Padme was affecting him more than he thought. Since when did trivial things like this matter?

Anakin looked over you once more before following Gido to discuss the schedule and plan for the upcoming rotations.

Dinner was…awkward, to say the least. It was just you and Anakin eating in your dining room. Gido had some business he needed to attend to so he could not join you for dinner. Anakin insisted that he could eat somewhere else as he did not want to intrude, but you insisted that he eat with you. It was the polite thing to do. But after you insisted that Anakin sat with you, you realized that you had nothing to talk about. A singer and a Jedi Knight turned war general? What would you have in common? A pregnant silence enshrouded you both. Only the soft clinks of silverware could be heard.

You sipped on your water every few bites to calm your nerves. This was so unlike you! Honestly, you were never one to shy away from anyone’s presence. A part of your job was selling a likable persona to the public–countless interviews, media appearances, meet and greets! You had done these all with grace and a smile. Yet you couldn’t find the proper words to say to the gorgeous man sitting right across from you. Geez, he must think I’m one of those stuck-up celebrities, you chided in your head. You were far from stuck up, but something about Anakin set your nerves on fire and made the social part of your brain feel like mush. Sweat started building up in your armpits as you thought about it. You had to do something to salvage your reputation and stop yourself from sweating through your outfit.

You cleared your throat and looked up from your dinner plate. “So, Anakin. How do you know the Chancellor? I hear you’re friends with him.”

“I’ve known the Chancellor since I was a little boy. We first met when I left my home planet after I was discovered by a Jedi named Qui-Gon Jinn. He was Naboo’s representative back then.”

“Oh, that's interesting. My family goes way back with the Chancellor too. My father and him studied at the same university on Naboo. Though my father was a few grades below the Chancellor, they became good friends,” you replied.

Anakin nodded at your story before focusing his attention elsewhere. You internally deflated once you saw he did not seem to care about keeping a conversation. However, if you were going to spend the new few rotations together, you’d rather it not be more awkward than it already was.

“Uhm, where are you from? You mentioned that you left your home planet. I’m not from Coruscant either! I am from Bar’leth.”

“Tatooine,” Anakin answered curtly. The way Anakin said Tatooine almost made you think that he disliked his home planet. He didn’t say it with any fondness, or longing.

“That’s in the Outer Rim, right? I’ve never been. How is it?” you questioned.

“Hot, lawless, and sandy.” Another short answer.

You got the impression that Anakin wasn’t exactly fond of his home planet, so you decided to change the subject of conversation. “You travel a lot as a Jedi. Which has been your favorite planet so far?”

Anakin was silent for a moment before, as if he were thinking deeply about it. In reality, Anakin knew his favorite planet. Naboo. He only paused for a moment because he was unsure if he wanted to reveal this information to you. Though it was seemingly an innocent question (and it was), Anakin felt it was a vulnerable question. Naboo is the planet he spent days frolicking in the lush, romantic meadows with Padme, falling deeper in love with her as the days passed. Naboo represented a part of Anakin that no longer existed–an Anakin that didn’t know the pain of losing a mother, losing a part of himself in the process. When his mother died, gone became the young boy with a golden aura and eyes full of hope. On Naboo, Anakin was still bright and naive with a laughter full of joy and excitement. That Anakin died the day he and Padme set out to find his mother on Tatooine. Anakin wished every day to the Maker that part of him could come back from the dead and replace who he currently was. To better days.

“Naboo. That’s my favorite planet,” answered Anakin. He decided to be truthful instead of responding with a random planet. Anakin didn’t know what compelled him, but he knew you were only being polite.

“Naboo is beautiful. Though I mainly grew up in Bar’leth, I spent a lot of my childhood summers in Naboo. I don’t think there is any other planet with views as stunning as Naboo,” you revealed.

You felt that there was nothing else to say. The remainder of the dinner was quiet. Though there wasn’t as much tension as before, it was still awkward. You finished your dinner as quickly as possible before retreating to your personal quarters for the evening.

To be continued!

#kendra's works !!!#star wars #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #darth vader #darth vader x reader #hayden christensen #tcw anakin #star wars fanfiction #star wars fandom #the clone wars

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mistydeyes · 1 year

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𝓲𝔃𝔃𝓲𝓮'𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

summary: an ongoing list of all my favorite fics (updated daily)! please check these amazing writers out and support their work <3

btw! if there’s any ones i forgot to add/haven’t read plz message me! i always love new content (especially for gaz :))

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general

platonic ☕🧸📋🧋🍪

5 times you took care of 141 and one time they took care of you by @keys-hellscape-1020 - platonic!141 x medic!reader this one is so cute! the 141 boys show their appreciation for the unit's medic by taking care of them :)

incorrect cod quotes by @skylarsblue - okay this one is HILARIOUS read to see the absolute insanity that goes on in the 141

unwind by @python333 - platonic!141 x gn!reader hehe i requested this! but in this absolutely beautiful fic, you help the 141 unwind by making their favorite coffee and tea

fluff 🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️

civilian spouse by @undeadcannibal - 141 x civvie! reader one of my favorites! read how the boys meet their civilian significant other

saved civilian invites the 141 on a date by @benevolentwarfare - hero!141 x civvie! reader you ask to meet them again after they saved you!

141 reacting to the reader who likes to read smut by @gardeningtool4skullboy - 141 x soldier!reader the title says it all!

seeing the reader's face in public by @ghostssweetgirl - 141, könig, roach, and alex x soldier!reader you wear a mask while on duty and no one has seen you unmasked. they barely can recognize you in public (and try to flirt)!

where do they live by @yourvirtualgoddessforlife - 141, könig, graves, alejandro and rudy x reader amazing descriptions of where you would live with each one of them <3

the 141 with a successful s/o by @l0velylecter - 141 x reader the descriptions in this one are absolutely beautiful! read about how you both show your appreciations for one another ;)

angst/sad💔😢😭❤️‍🩹🤧

how they react when you die by @buckysmith - 141, alejandro, and graves x reader okay this one broke my heart! if you want a good cry, read how they would react if you died

amnesia by @roosterr - 141 x reader - one of my requests that was beautifully answered! read how the 141 reacts to you getting injured then waking up from a coma without amnesia

gaz

fluff 🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️

on the house by @yjhariani - gaz x civvie!reader ONE OF THE BEST MEET CUTES w my love <3 read about you and gaz getting set up on a date

you are in love by @euovennia - gaz x reader based on the taylor swift song, follow along as you and gaz fall in love :))

a lazy evening by @vesper-tinus- gaz x reader ABSOLUTE FLUFF as you spend an evening with gaz at home

meet cute - birdie by @ghouljams - cowboy!gaz x reader (name: birdie) cowboy gaz meets the local teacher and she helps him get some supplies for the ranch! they have an entire series for cowboy!141 I highly recommend reading!!

gossamer silk smiles by @halcyone-of-the-sea - gaz x florist!reader literally so adorable with the flowers and the nods to greek mythology! you run a florist shop and a young man comes in last minute, what how your relationship blooms as he keeps visiting

ghost

platonic ☕🧸📋🧋🍪

immunity to being tased by @rileyslibrary - ghost x soldier!reader this is hilarious, what's ghost's reaction when you have a surprising immunity to being tased?

fluff 🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️

helen x simon series by @mvtthewmurdvck - ghost x fem!medic!reader ok, if you haven't read this then what are you doing? this series follows our two lovebirds on the battlefield and through life (this is so worth the read and there's so much content from the creator!)

be gentle, man! by @rileyslibrary - ghost x fem!soldier!reader this is a two part series that goes through the antics of going undercover with the team! read until the end of part ii for a funny little soap moment

leather sketchbook by @dyslexicbatxz - artist!ghost x medic!reader what happens when ghost loses his sketch book with drawings of you?

ghost's love language by @saint-johnny - simon x reader a fluffy little piece where simon checks out a book at the library about the five different love languages

the little things by @halfmoth-halfman - simon x medic!reader there's something going on between simon and the unit's medic, soap is determined to find out

dad!simon by @lundenloves - simon x reader (established relationship) YK I JUST HAD TO INCLUDE THIS ONE! some of the best descriptions of simon ever, read about how he interacts with you and the two daughters you have together

angst/sad💔😢😭❤️‍🩹🤧

anyone got a lighter? by @yjhariani - ghost x soldier!reader okay not spoiling this one but my heart broke from this short read

white bandages, the process of healing by @nsharks - ghost x soldier!reader part two of a three part series, read about your tumultuous relationship with the masked man

simon after a divorce by @l0velylecter - ghost x soldier!reader the title says it all, don't look for a happy ending here

price

fluff 🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️

meeting civilian reader by @nrdmssgs - price x fem!civvie!reader you and price both find yourself on a vacation away from work

5 reasons you cried while pregnant by @gh0stlyfixation - price x afab!reader ONE OF THE BEST this is so funny and also has a series with ghost and soap's wives. see what price has to deal with when you're pregnant with your first child

karma by @stormiwaves - price x afab!reader you go undercover dressed to the nines and price gets jealous when he sees you flirting with the target

soap

angst/sad💔😢😭❤️‍🩹🤧

counting magpies, one for sorrow by @halfmoth-halfman - soap x reader i'm not going to spoil this one either but get some tissues ready BC THIS IS SO SAD

alejandro

fluff 🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️

late for dinner by @ragingbookdragon - alejandro x fem!reader uh oh, alejandro is in trouble with the missus! this one is so cute

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flaneur001 · 29 days

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14 Days with you Royal Au (ongoing series) [Pairings- Enemy Duke! Redacted x GN Reader] [Word count- 1768] [Tags- Angst, Smut] [A/N- Previously posted in the 14dwy discord server. Redacted belongs to @14dayswithyou]

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Part 1 : Wedding and Warning bells

Three months. You kept reminding yourself, repeating like a mantra under your breath, that you had to keep up this charade for only three months. You stared at your scantily clad figure in the ornate mirror while the chambermaid brushed your hair preparing you for the first night with the draconian Duke. The black silk robe barely covered your skin, yet you looked the very picture of elegance. Fit for a partner of the highest ranking noble in the country.

The chambermaid smiled ruefully at you as if understanding your dilemma. She lit scented candles around the vast expanse of the room and drew a bath for the newlyweds, then bowed and left the marital chamber, leaving you to sit in the middle of the plush poster bed.

Just as you were starting to get comfortable, you heard the heavy set of footfalls muffled by the soft carpet lining the room. With a creak, the big double doors opened and he walked in.

When his cold azure eyes met yours in a searing gaze, you were pulled back to the moment this very morning, when you were standing opposite this enigmatic man on the altar. The moment that changed everything.

Your family hailed from the oldest noble clans in the kingdom. Once respected, now barely making ends meet. Your father was a proud man. He struggled to keep up appearances but refused to accept the defeat of his house. So when the tyrannical Duke of their rival clan graced his doorstep, asking for the hand of his oldest child in marriage he was enraged, to say the least. The audacity of the arrogant man to ask for his beloved child when the young Duke himself was responsible for their clan’s downfall.

But it was you who convinced your father that this marriage was a chance to take revenge on the Duke’s family. To overthrow them and break their power, weakening it from the inside.

You expected the Duke, notorious for his shrewd tactics, his beast-like prowess on the battlefield, and his rumored blood lust, to be brusque and brutish. Lecherous even. You were prepared for everything. This was like a war for you, and you were ready to give up your body and chastity for it. But nothing in the world would have prepared you for the cold yet hauntingly beautiful, icy blue eyes looking at you, as he gently lifted your veil.

You don’t know what expression you wore when you exchanged the heavy yet empty vows of eternal love with him, but it was as if he had read your mind. You were expecting him to take every opportunity to use his new prized possession. But when he leaned in for your first kiss as a couple, a melodious chuckle escaped his cherry-tinted lips and he whispered, so only you could hear, “You hate me that much Angel?” before landing a soft kiss on your forehead instead.

How confusing. Were you wrong about holding preconceived notions about this mysterious man? No, you stifled a bitter laugh. He was your enemy. The reason why you had to see your father cry for the first time in his life. You straighten your posture waiting, as he prowled near the bed, leisurely trailing his fingers along the silk sheets as he walked towards you.

You plastered on a smile, revenge was the only thought echoing in your heart. Yes. He was a man at the end of the day. A power-hungry dictator at that. Men like him had voracious appetites. He was bound to slip. And you would love to break him piece by piece, even if you had to use your body for it. If he thought himself a predator, then you would be the sweet bait luring him towards his end. There was no place for anything else. No place for any doubts.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk, and he placed one hand around your waist. A slender finger looped the soft string of the robe covering your modesty and pulled.

The cold air caressed your body, which was now bare for him to see. His blue eyes boldly regarded you from your head to the toes, yet his face betrayed no emotions.

If he was affected at all by your sight, he hid it well. The only thing that showed his hunger was his slightly heavy breathing and the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he stood there silently. The air crackled with anticipation.

‘Just get this done and over with!’ you found yourself thinking. But you couldn’t hold back the yelp that escaped you when suddenly, he wrapped strong arms around your shoulder and under your legs pulling you into a bridal carry.

You stared confused, as he walked deeper inside the room and pushed aside the curtains to reveal the opulent bathtub. The air was heady with the aroma of mint essential oil. A soft steam rose from the hot water ready for a bath.

He looked at you, eyes peering so deep into yours, silently asking for your permission. When you nodded your head in assent, he crouched, gently placing you in the welcoming embrace of the hot water. You half expected him to leave you there, with the way he flitted around the room in an almost bored fashion.

But then he returned to your side, carrying a small bottle of scented oil and a washcloth. His eyes never left yours as he uncorked the bottle putting droplets of red liquid into the bath.

The water bubbled and the air around you soon turned sweeter with the perfumed scent of cherries. He stood to his full towering height and slowly, deliberately looped his fingers around the strings of his black silk robe, unfastening the material and sliding it off his shoulder as if giving you a show.

And your traitorous eyes followed the offensive piece of cloth as it slipped languorously from his wide shoulders, down his slim waist, towards his plump and shapely rear, and finally descending to his long legs to pool around his feet.

You simply couldn’t comprehend why you were finding it increasingly difficult to remove your eyes from him. To make matters worse, the pompous man stretched languidly, a sly glint in his eyes as he watched your throat work slightly at the sight he presented. And surely what a sight it was. Wide shoulders, strong pecs, abs that lined the way towards that delicious v that sat there like a prelude to his impressive manhood.

You jolted out of this debauched train of thought, mentally slapping yourself at the act. ‘Focus…remember why you’re here’ you chided yourself, biting down on your lip hard, tearing your gaze away from that devilishly handsome man.

‘Yes, that’s what he is. A temptation, best remember that’

“Make room” he ordered, his voice was husky, and the baritone reverberated deep to your bones, making you shiver despite the hot water covering your body. It was the voice of someone who was made to be obeyed. To be pandered to. You moved a little and he climbed in, sloshing the water around as he settled behind you, pulling you between his long legs and resting your back flush against his chest.

He was so close, it made a blush rise to your cheeks. Strangely this was more intimate than any carnal act you imagined him to perform. The silent sensuality he possessed as his fingers combed through your hair, made your breath come out in pants, leaving small puffs of smoke in the overheated room and he hadn’t even begun yet.

He grabbed the washcloth and rubbed slow circles on your back. Brushing a calm path on your neck, to your chest, onto your stomach, and just as you thought he’d touch you there, his hand stopped. You bit your tongue, desperately holding back the frustrated groan that was about to leave your mouth.

For a small while, he laved your body with warm scented water, thoroughly cleaning, and pampering you. But then his patterns changed. He discarded the washcloth and used his palms instead to rub and massage your shoulders and neck, occasionally teasing near your rear and the inside of your thighs but never truly touching where you wanted him the most. Yes, wanted.

You hummed in contented bliss, all coherence already long evaporated from your mind. And soon his lips began to chart the area where his hands had been. You leaned back further into the welcoming cage of his strong arms when your lower half pressed against his long length, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

And then you did something surprising both him and yourself. You lifted your rear and ground it slowly along the girth of his manhood. A soft hiss escaped him echoing in the small room, and his hand gripped your shoulder tightly, pulling you back into him as he turned your face with his other hand to stare into your eyes.

“Angel” he muttered, voice rough with lust and something more primal that he held in. “Don’t play with fire, when you are so afraid to get burned” and somehow it felt like a warning and a plea at the same time. He sighed and ducked to press a soft kiss to your cheek. His long black hair seemed like a dark halo atop his head.

You smiled to yourself, ‘He calls me an angel, yet himself resembles one. A fallen angel’

He rose, and you wearily eyed his raging erection begging to be touched. But he swiftly wrapped both your naked bodies in velvet robes and carried you back towards the bed.

He placed you down on the feather-soft pillow. The handsome man towered above you, hands on either side of your face, as he stared, having an internal battle with himself. Unable to resist, you opened your mouth, uttering the first words you ever said since you stepped into his world. Your first words to him, “Why didn’t you take me?”

He was startled. Then his features softened, and his cold palm cupped your cheek. “Not like this”, he replied.

Then rising, he lay behind you, pulling the covers over both of your bodies as he hugged you from behind. “I’ll have you when the time is right. When you come to me first Angel” he whispered in your ear, stroking your hair. Sighing, you melted into his embrace. Finally realizing that maybe you were wrong, after all. Maybe you had left some space unguarded in your heart. Enough for him to creep in.

[part -2]

#ashewrites📝#my words💜#flâneur✨#14dwy redacted #14dwy #14dwy redacted x reader #gender neautral reader #royalty au #royal au #yandere male #yandere vn #14dwy ren

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