#the vendor that told me this said the other receivers will take their time and dilly dally too much leaving a line of trucks outside

[killjoy-prince]

Vendors at my job love me so much there's fighting amongst them in one company over who gets to deliver to my store that week

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Bloodhound

Also on AO3

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

Summary: Before meeting the ghoul, you worked as a courier. After striking a mutually beneficial deal with him, you become a bounty hunter, but it’s clear that your dynamic is much more complicated than that.

WC: 2.5k words

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, pet play (implied), porn with little plot, dom/sub dynamics, mentions of violence, both praise and degradation, light dehumanization, the ghoul calls you ‘mutt’, unprotected p in v (DO NOT), radiated creampie (dw they use radaway after the fic is over lmao), oral (m receiving), aaaand thats all i can think of but lmk if i missed anything!

A/N: Shoutout to @finniestoncrane who posted an amazing fic w/ the same kink that made me feel brave enough to post this dirty lil fic i could not get out of my head these past weeks :D

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A loud, high pitched whistle made you pause mid-sentence. You recognized it as a sign that time was almost up, and you better get some answers before he lost his patience altogether.

You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment before looking back at the small shop’s vendor. 

“You said you heard he was going north?” You asked.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, heard him mention something about one of those mini-marts. You know the kind. There’s two on the way to Shady Sands that might be worth checking.”

You swallowed hard, but hid your discomfort. “And he was gone yesterday morning? Alone?”

“Yeah, as far as I know he arrived alone, too.”

“You weren’t curious enough to ask?”

“Not the kind to ask raiders more questions than I need to.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. He had no reason to be helping raiders, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have other reasons to lie. 

He cleared his throat and looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. He’d been eyeing the clunky, collar-like tracking device around your neck, unsure of what it meant or who exactly was tracking you. Clearly, he didn’t intend to find out.

“Alright, I’ve told you enough. You better get out of here before anyone else starts asking questions.”

You nodded once, knowing better than to push your luck. You took three caps out of a hidden pouch on your belt and tossed them at him. 

“Thanks,” you said, turning on your heel and making your way back out of the narrow alleyway.

The ghoul was leaning against the wall just out of view, the brim of his hat pulled low. You caught the edge of his grin as you approached, and he pushed off the wall to fall into step next to you.

“Well?” He asked, keeping his voice low and casual.

You relayed the information you’d acquired about the target — a bounty he’d picked up a few days earlier, at another settlement. A raider had wreaked havoc there and killed two in the process, so the families were looking for some justice.

Easy enough to take care of, the ghoul had figured, and all for a decent price. So he’d immediately put you on his trail, as he always did. Much easier for smoothies to be asking questions and actually get some answers — Not everyone tolerated his kind.

You had a few opinions on what to do next, but you kept them to yourself, knowing he wouldn’t want them unless he’d specifically asked. He hummed, the gears in his mind already turning. 

You peered at him sideways, wondering what his strategy would be. He didn’t often let you in on them unless it was necessary, but based on what you’d experienced so far, you at least trusted his cleverness.

“Good girl, that’s real useful,” he said finally, seemingly satisfied with what he was coming up with.

He flicked your chin up with his knuckle in what could almost be called affection, but not quite. You carefully hid the secret pleasure you felt at his praise, averting your gaze. Somehow, even at his meanest, he always managed to make it sound so good — at least in the same way a bruise felt good.

Formerly, in your life as a courier, you’d been severely underestimated many times. Traveling alone, especially, had its disadvantages, but it wasn’t brute strength that had so far kept you alive. You were cunning too, in your own way. 

Always keenly observant of your surroundings, picking up clues that most would miss. You were generally pretty reserved anyway, preferring to stay quiet and listen. It was easy for you to blend in with your surroundings, seemingly harmless, and people often let their guard down around you. Big mistake on their part.

The ghoul had taken notice of you, though. It had been months ago, at some repurposed saloon further up north, where there was a lot of foot traffic. It was really easy to get jobs there, or exchange information, so you often passed through. As it happened, so did he, and he’d kept an eye out after you initially caught his attention.

Once he’d learned just how useful you’d actually be to him, well… he just couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. He had a certain way with words, exuding charm, knowing very well how to get what he wanted. Despite most people’s apprehension of ghouls, you didn’t really mind them as long as they weren’t feral and trying to bite your face off. 

Clearly, he wasn’t that type. So, you’d made an agreement of sorts with him, splitting the profits sixty-forty for every bounty fulfilled. Easy money, you figured, and some company to boot. More safety in numbers, after all, especially with someone as skilled as him. 

But from the get go, he always made it abundantly clear that he was the one calling the shots. There had been no room for argument on that, though strangely enough, you had felt a certain sense of freedom by submitting to it.

The tracking device he’d clasped around your neck soon after was just a little extra precaution, he had said. You had relatively free rein, but still he didn’t let you stray too far. And if you did, then his lasso would work as a makeshift leash to drag you back. 

Later on, when you’d developed a system of communication without words – especially for greater distances – you realized it’d felt more like training, in a way. Bending you to his will, sometimes with more charm, others with what he called discipline. And soon enough, after nights of growing closeness and a simmering tension, rewards also came into play. 

In the end, it all worked out, and before you knew it, the two of you were running like a well oiled machine. The hunter and his bloodhound. 

You started the trek north, taking advantage of the daylight. You kept your eyes peeled for any distinct tracks or other clues. When you saw an old, rundown shack in the near distance, you glanced back at him and then trotted off as soon as he nodded. 

Once you’d cleared it, you returned to where he was and continued on your way. Three more times, you checked abandoned buildings, but there was nothing of note in any of them. 

The first mini-mart you arrived at turned out to be more useful. The ghoul helped you interrogate a couple of raiders you’d found holing up there. They weren’t very forthcoming at first, but you left the jostling to him, given that it was his specialty. 

Soon enough, he managed to knock a couple of answers out of them, and then you were on your way again. You settled in an abandoned, half-collapsed house for the evening, a fire burning before the sun even finished setting. 

He sat on the other side of it, silently sharpening his machete, lost in thought. You looked off into the middle distance, unbothered by the quiet. It was a welcome reprieve after a long day, when all you wanted to do was unwind.

But that wasn’t to say it was always easy, even if you were on the brink of exhaustion. Sometimes you just needed a little extra help to get you there.

The ghoul noticed the tense set of your shoulders and your restless shifting. He heard the soft sighs you weren’t even aware you were letting out, short and almost impatient. But what could you possibly be waiting for?

His eyes lingered pensively on the tracking device, like a mark of his ownership, before trailing lower, towards your chest. He licked his lips, a few ideas coming to mind. 

“Say… how would you like a little treat for doin’ such a good job today?” He drawled, a roguish grin on his face as one of his hands came to rest heavily on his belt buckle.

Your attention was drawn there, but you quickly looked back up at his face. Instead of giving in to the impulse to nod eagerly, you bit your lip and decided to test the waters just a little bit.

“A treat, hmm?” you said, slightly tilting your head to one side, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

He nodded, adjusting his position lazily, hips bucking. “Oh yes, I’m feelin’ quite generous today, and you’ve earned it.”

This time you couldn’t hide the effect his words had on you, and he chuckled. Truth be told, you’d had this in mind all day, a craving that would not go away until you had him. It was why you’d gone the extra mile, knowing it wouldn’t escape his notice. He’d gotten real good at reading your moods, after all.

“Come sit pretty for me over here, why don’t’cha?” He said and tapped his foot on the ground, spurs jingling softly. 

You made your way over to him and knelt at his feet. He bent forward, looming over you, and grasped your chin with a gloved hand. 

“Well, ain’t you just the most obedient little thing? I’ve got you well trained, don’t I?” he said, his eyes roaming over your face. “Go on now, get your treat.”

He let go of your face and leaned back, adjusting his hips to bring them closer to you. Your fingers shook only slightly as you deftly undid his belt, then bent your head to undo the zipper with your teeth. There was a low sound of approval in his throat as you tugged his pants down, along with his underwear.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his hardening cock, the head of it lazily resting against his lower abdomen. You were about to curl your fingers around the shaft, but he shook his head.

“No hands,” he said, clicking his tongue. “You don’t need to use your hands anymore.”

You nodded, sticking out your tongue as your head dipped once more. You licked a long, languid stripe up the length of it, making it twitch in response. He sighed a rough good girl as his legs widened to adjust his position, a gloved hand resting on your head. 

Your lips wrapped around the tip, teasing it with little flicks of your tongue. He grunted, his hips jutting upwards. Your mouth was warm and wet and inviting as his cock slid inside it with ease. His head tipped back in ecstasy for a moment before he looked back down to watch you take it deeper into your throat. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “I must’ve been real lucky to find such a good lil cocksucker like you.”

You moaned around him, shifting your knees as you felt yourself growing wetter. Your head bobbed up and down at an almost hypnotic pace, hands straining at your sides to keep yourself from using them.

When you reached the base, his cock fully sheathed in your throat, he kept your head down for a moment. You fought the urge to gag, breathing slowly through your nose. 

Then he let you come up for air, the lower half of your face a slobbery mess as you panted. Your eyes were glazed over with desire as you looked up at him, and his cock twitched. 

“Such a pretty mutt, aren’t’cha? I bet you’re all soaked and ready for me,” he rasped, holding your gaze as your tongue lavished his balls with some attention. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, feeling himself start to near the edge. But he didn’t want to get there quite yet, and he didn’t want it to be in your mouth this time.

Still, he allowed himself a moment longer, his hand pushing your head to press your face against his cock, hips rocking slightly. Your tongue was still out, trying to catch whatever skin it could, and he let out a deep groan.

“Alright, don’t get too excited now. Turn around and let me take a look.”

You did as told, hastily pulling your pants and underwear down to your knees and presenting yourself for him. You watched him tug his gloves off over your shoulder, appraising you with hungry eyes, and then he knelt behind you.

“My, oh my…” he said as some of your arousal dripped onto the ground. “Just as I thought… Let’s see if she’s ready for me.”

You felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, slowly pushing inside. Eagerly, you pushed your hips back to take more of him, but he stopped you by grabbing your hips.

“Easy, easy,” he chuckled. “You want me to fuck you that bad, huh?”

You nodded, whimpering a little as he thrusted shallowly, stretching you further to accommodate him.  

“Please,” you breathed, your voice broken by desperation, and he pushed your head to the ground.

“It’s cute when you whine like a bitch in heat,” he cooed, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. “Now stay there and take it like the good girl I know y’are.”

Once he was able to fully slide in and out of you with little pushback, his thrusts gradually got faster. You moaned with each rough snap of his hips, deliriously chanting fuck, fuck, fuck under your breath.

He felt impossibly deep at that angle, practically driving you into the ground. One of his hands cracked down on your ass, making you flinch from surprise, your cunt squeezing him hard.

He growled at that, fucking you harder while tugging your hips backwards to meet his thrusts. He was repeatedly hitting a sensitive spot that had your vision going white, eclipsing everything else.

“God damn, this pussy’s so good to me,” he groaned, smacking your ass once more. “You enjoyin’ your treat? Huh?”

“Yes,” you gasped, legs kicking slightly at the intensity, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “I-I’m gonna… Can I cum? Please?”

He was pleased that you’d still thought to ask, but he was too keen on pleasing you at that moment to deny you. “Go on, I’ve got you. Come all over my cock.”

The orgasm rocked throughout your body, every one of your muscles taut as you unraveled. His name spilling from your lips as a whimper, something to cling onto. The way your cunt greedily, and oh so sweetly, squeezed his cock then had him right behind you. 

A rough, feral sound escaped him as his hips snapped against you one last time, spilling hotly inside of you. Your walls continued to flutter in the aftermath, milking out his own pleasure. 

After, he pulled out to get a look at the mess he’d made of you. Hummed with self satisfaction as he saw his spend trickling out of you, like another mark of his ownership.

Your head swam as if you were drunk, but still you smiled at him over your shoulder beatifically. Mischief danced in your eyes, but he’d already known it had been your plan to end up there all along.

“Always so eager to please.” He returned the grin slyly. “Maybe I ought to give you treats more often, if you keep it up.”

Perhaps it hadn’t been his intention, but you took those words as a challenge all the same. 

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[allophonicmess]

Sweetest Taste

Masterlist

15th Doctor x Reader (One Shot)

Part of the Doctor and Sun universe but can be read as a stand-alone

SMUT ( fem oral reciving & P in V)

4.3K

Tags: Fluff, Smut, body worship, consent, unprotected sex, established relationship

June offered the perfect time to visit London's Kensington Park for a stroll. Living in the bustling, vibrant city, you came to love it over the years. The park gates acted like a separator between the cold, busy and unpersonal streets and the lush green gardens that offered a sense of connectedness for the visitors, allowing them to escape from the pressure of the city and simply decompress and be.

You pulled at your clothes, making sure that you looked your best. It wasn't your first meeting; it was far from it. Yet, this day marked your first proper meeting with him in this new body, and it made you both excited and nervous, just like the previous times you two saw each other again with new eyes. Literally.

You felt a grin spread over your lips as you passed the black gates that separated the greenery from the greyish street. Passing the café, you stood momentarily, eyes wandering over the small, chapel-like building, the calm scene, and artistically set up plans in the middle of the grass. To your left, the view opened into the display of dark-orange cranesbills, lavender and other flowers. The ensemble reminded you of the sunset, rich in colour and contrast. Behind it, a line of angular ponds, lined with waterplants and accompanied by beautifully crafted benches, created the scene of the Italian Gardens.

This was the place you had decided to meet. You stayed on the reddish pavement, following one of the main routes through the park. The white oldtimer turned ice cream vendor stood in its usual place, attracting a small crowd of eager customers. They had formed a line, waiting patiently for their turn to receive their sweet treat.

"Should have clarified the time we meet", you mainly mumbled to yourself. You had told him when and where to meet you but in a more broad sense. Yet daytime also played a key role. You looked around for a moment. Perhaps a walk would be good to pass the time. You could follow the Long Water, take a look at one of the many statues and then come back a little later to see if he arrived at your set location. Or you could start searching for the big, blue police telephone box. It shouldn't be hard to find unless he fixed the chameleon circuit. Perhaps this new Doctor got tired of the Tardis' look, but you doubt it.

"Figured you'd be here around noon. Love to spend your-"He continued, but you interrupted him, finishing the sentence alongside him.

"Well, good on me to have thought of that" he spoke, the playful tone of his new voice made your grin before you consciously processed it. It was as if your body was drawn to him, able to recognise it anywhere, regardless of sound, tone or pitch. Always recognising, always drawn to it.

You turned around with a soft gasp, and there he stood. A big, inviting smile stretched over his face, adorned by a thin, trimmed moustache. His eyes held a twinkle that you couldn't quite explain. Youthful joy and pure ecstasy were the best words you could find. There were two ice cones, one in each hand. 99 Flake, you noticed. Vanilla soft ice with a chocolate flake, Simple yet classy.

"-lunch break in the park." You chuckled, approaching him and taking the cool dessert with a soft "Thank you".

"Bring some ice cream, you said. And here we are!" he cheered with a joyous laugh. You nodded, letting your eyes wander over his new look. He had changed; he put on some actual clothes. You didn't mind his 50/50 Bi-generation look, but it was… impractical for travelling.

He noticed your wandering eyes and decided to play into it. The Doctor stepped back, giving you a little swirl that made his orange leather coat swish. He had dressed up nicely. The outfit was new, certainly different from what he used to wear, yet it suited him so very well.

It reflected him, the healed and refreshed mindset expressed in daybreak's bright and daring colours. He wore light, striped sneakers, contrasting with the dark blue trousers. 'He really put some thought into this,' you thought, noticing the repetition of colours on his top. The zipper of his striped jumper was opened halfway, revealing the view of the necklace set he wore. An orange gem on one chain and an odd-looking golden shape on the other. They rested over a soft patch of dark chest hair that you took immediate interest in.

"You like it?" He asked with a flirty wink, stepping closer again and taking your free hand.

"Yeah, very stylish. It's new. Different, but I think it looks great. Especially the jewellery." You admired, feeling the cool metal of his ringers against your hand as you squeezed it to emphasise your comment.

"Thanks, darling." He chuckled softly, eyes moving from your face to the hand which held your now semi-melted ice cream that threatened to spill over your fingers.

"You want to lick that away before you get your hands dirty." He nodded towards it.

You quickly breathe a soft 'oh', turning the cone in your hand to clean it up. The sweet and creamy liquid made you hum in delight. You noticed that the Doctor was about to be in the same predicament as you. The molten cream snailing over the wafer.

"Same with yours. Don't want to make a mess." You joked, looking him in the eye. But he stayed serious, keeping eye contact for longer than you would find appropriate for the situation.

Then, there was a shift in the air around you. The soft reunion of lovers turning into something else…

His eyes focused on you as he licked away a streak of melted ice cream that dared to run down the cone. Those dark eyes watching you intently, clearly aware of the sexual allusion the action carried.

He grinned cheekily at your loss of words, clearly aware of what he was doing to you. But he wanted to take his sweet time with you. He enjoyed teasing you before, always did, but now it had a different tone to it. He felt a rush, watching you struggle; your attraction to him was undeniable.

Oh goodness, that stare was stirring something in you.

You released a breath, eyes following his pink tongue slide along the brown wafer with perfect pressure. He took his sweet time, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

"Uh…" You started, gasped really, at a loss of words. Regeneration was a gamble, and you won.

"My plan?" You asked, shifting in your seat to get a better look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to sit down?" He asked softly, sweetly, with an innocent look. He waited for your approving nod, then placed his arm around your waist to lead you to one of the benches that lined the fountains.

You tried to calm down and get your pulse back to normal. You had seen him just yesterday. The other version of him, still him though. But this new factette of him thrilled you, willing to play along in his little game. It only would make winning the price sweeter and much more satisfying.

The two of you sat down on a bench. The wood under you had been warmed in the sun, making for a cosy spot. The Doctor moved in closely, placing one arm over the backrest. His hand rested on your shoulder and arm, stroking over it in a slow, calming motion.

"You chose a lovely spot", He commented, watching the place and people around him. He slid a little closer, making your thighs touch. He looked into the distance, where the Long Water widened into a river.

"So what's your plan?" He turned back to you, taking a lazy lick of his treat. He was almost finished.

"I was wondering how you want to proceed now. Do you want to keep your routine? Work, here on Earth? Travel?" He squeezed your shoulder, waiting patiently for your response. His head was turned back, the light shifting in his short, dark hair. The colour bordering between black and a lush midnight blue.

"I liked the routine. Me staying here, taking care of Earth while you are off. You taking me on dates when you find the time." You shrugged.

"Oh yeah? I'm glad to hear it." He pulled you in for another kiss. It was less passionate but undoubtedly made you feel his love. The Doctor petted your face quietly, watching you with warm admiration.

He sighed, something shifting behind his eyes. "I should have made more time for you." He whispered with some sense of grief behind it. "You deserve so much more than what I offered you." He moved even closer, and the arm around you pulled you into him. His hand moved towards your face.

He held your face gently, fingers curled and ringed knuckles resisting against your pulse as his thumb glided over your cheek.

"That will change now. You will be my priority." His eyes moved between your eyes and your lips, silently asking for permission to kiss you. You granted it, leaning forward to meet him in a soft, shy kiss. It was new, different to the feeling and rhythm you were used to. But you adapted, just like so many times prior. You found a new rhythm with him, lips moving in a sweet dance.

The two of you only let go to catch a breath of air, grinning shyly at each other like smitten teenagers. "You liked that?" He whispered with a breathy chuckle. Your actions, visible acceptance of this new version of him, took away the feeling of nervousness.

"Yeah, very much." You replied with a smile, just as relieved as him. Change was a constant in your lives. Things and people; everything was constantly changing. Yet you remained.

"I'll admit: I'm a fan of this." You vaguely motioned towards him, his face and body. "It suits you." Your own smile widened as he seemed to light up. The complement boosted his already strong confidence and charm. He radiated a warmth that you just wanted to bask in.

You didn't mind the silence. It felt easy and natural. But you were giddy, high on his smile and the joy you felt. So your brain went into overdrive, leading to making a silly confession.

"You know what I couldn't stop thinking about?" You asked, unable to hold back a childish giggle, already overly excited to reveal it.

"What?" He asked, watching you intently.

"Those thighs." You giggled, placing a hand on his left leg for emphasis. The woolly material of his trousers was rather rough against your fingers. But you felt his warmth seeping through the pant leg.

"Is that so?" He grinned. First, it was innocent, playing to your joke. But then it turned hungry before shifting into a stern expression.

And there it was again, that tension around you.

"You know what I kept thinking about?" He asked, his thumb tracing your lip.

You only managed to let out a breath of air. Yet he took it as a response to reveal it to you.

"I kept thinking about how sweet you will taste on this new tongue."

Oh, you were done for.

Your eyes met his. A spark was ignited the moment you saw the lust and longing reflected in his intense stare.

"Take me. Now."

What ensued was a mad rush for the Tardis. He grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off to the location of the well-known police call box. He had parked it just outside the other park gates. There, resting in the shade of tall plane trees, right next to old and out-of-use red telephone boxes. You would have laughed at it and appreciated the joke if it hadn't been for the delicious ache between your legs and the heat that flushed your body.

The Doctor practically ripped open the Tardis door, letting you in before him. He stepped in quickly and slammed the door shut the moment you were both inside. And not even a second later, you found yourself pressed against said door. Pillowy lips caressed yours as soft hums escaped between them, and strong hands grasped at your sides. All you could see and feel was him.

You threw your arms around his neck, gently scratching his neck and toying with the collar of his leather coat. That evoked a hiss from him; his tone made pain and pleasure mix.

"Need more of you." He hissed, placing his hands under your ass and pulling you up. You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles behind him to create stability. Thank the universe for Timelords' strength. He didn't carry you very far, though, slowly setting you down on the edge of the Tardis console. The surface was slightly sloped, but the new design allowed for free space between the control elements. You believe it might even have been made like this on purpose. Naughty machine.

This new position allowed you to be on eye level with the Doctor, if not, being a little taller than him. He noticed it, too, breaking away from you and grinning at you with marvel. You placed your hands on his jaw, feeling the skin there, the shaved hair over his sharp cheekbones. You pulled him in for another kiss, this time leading him in it. You held him there momentarily before your hands smoothed over his neck, along his ears and back down to the coat collar. A tuck signified him to shrug it off, and he obliged. The garment fell to the floor with a soft swoosh, leaving him in his jumper and pants.

You broke the kiss slowly, pressing your forehead to his as your hands wandered over his shoulders and back, feeling the strong yet lean muscle underneath the woolly material. He did the same, tugging at your jacket and shirt in the hope of finally being able to touch your skin. You let the coat slip from your arms, lifting them immediately to let him pull off your shirt. It left you in only your bra, sitting on the white metal console.

"You look like a goddess", He sighed, going for your neck and the soft spot behind your ear. The kisses there turned into playful nibbles as he carefully held the skin between his teeth to suck at it. It made you gasp, a shower running down your spine. You pulled the Doctor into an even closer embrace, hands holding him firmly.

He hummed against your skin, hands massaging the skin of your waste. His lips moved lower, over your clevis, down to the spot on your breast bone just above where your breasts connected to the skin. He licked down a stripe, only halting when he was stopped by your bra. It made him look up.

"Will you allow me to find out?" He looked you deep in the eye, waiting for your consent. His fingers were tracing along the hem of your jeans, eager to have you be rid of them. You nodded, holding onto his shoulders.

"I need you to use your words, darling." He kissed your jaw for emphasis; his right hand had moved up to the small of your back, tracing the spot where your spine connected.

"Yes, please." You managed to answer, already pushing yourself up on his shoulders to make it easier to free yourself of your pants. He grinned, making quick work of the zipper and button. He freed the jeans and underwear from under you with a swift pull. His hands explored the now-exposed skin of your thighs before pulling off your shoes to take off your pants for good.

He sighed at the view in front of him. Lips skimming over your thighs as he slowly and gracefully got to his knees. His hands traced over your back and down to your hips, squeezing them. The Doctor looked like he was about to pray, eyes focused up at you in admiration, soft breaths excepting through his slightly opened lips. He pulled you forward by your hips, making you lean forward and stabilise yourself with one hand on his shoulder and one on the console.

"My good girl." He whispered into the soft skin of your thigh, the moustache deliciously ticking you. His hands were on your knees, keeping your legs spread for him.

"Let me have some of that sweet taste." He mumbled before he oh so slowly licked over your core. You gasped, feeling his hot breath on you and heavenly pleasure against your clit. He kept his eyes focused on you, licking in slow motions before taking your pleasure bud in his mouth and gently sucking on it. The sensation was otherworldly, making you throw your head back. Years of experience had made him so good at making you gasp and scream, and the regeneration into a woman had evidently benefited his understanding of female pleasure.

He kept at it, lapping at you like his life depended on it. At some point, one of his hands had moved from your knees to your thigh, massaging it gently in the rhythm of his licks. You weren't going to last long if he kept going like this.

You moaned softly, trying to gather the energy and will to make him move. While this was great, you needed to feel him inside you.

A hand was placed on his head, making him stop to look at you.

"Too much?" He asked; the wet shine of your juices on his moustache made you even hotter.

"No, it's great, but I need you to feel you." You explained weakly, "I need to feel you inside me." You slid slightly lower on the console to get down on shaky legs, hoping they could hold you up.

But he was faster, swiftly getting back on his feet to carry you like he did before. The dark wool was rubbing against your core deliciously with each step as he carried you over the ramp towards the bedroom.

The Doctor placed you on the edge of the bed with just as much care and admiration as he had picked you up with. He was crouched before you, smiling softly in anticipation. You grinned, smoothing your hands over his neck and over the cool metal of his jewellery. The zipper of his jumper was only halfway open, so you took the little metal handle to open it fully, allowing you access to the gentle splatter of chest hair. Your hands moved over his torso, but you had to stop as the material offered no more room before the seams would give away.

"You are overdressed", You stated, making him chuckle. He readily lifted your arms to help get rid of his clothes. Fingers snuck under the waistband of his pants, grabbing onto not only the jumper and the light undershirt as well.

"Much better", you mumbled, placing your hands on his chest to explore it. He was fitter than you expected. Muscles stretched and flexed under your hands, and he brought his arms back down to hold your shoulders, pushing the straps of your bra down. He moved awkwardly from one foot to the other to shrug off his trainers.

That left him in his socks and pants. Still, too much, you decided and started fumbling with the button of his trousers.

"You got what you wanted. Let me see those legs again." You joked, making him laugh as he freed himself of the last of his clothing. He leaned over you, kissing you softly as he worked on the hooks of your bra. It hadn't been long since the two of you had had sex. But not with this body; it excited you to feel him again.

You slid back on the bed, allowing him to kneel and hover over you. The bra had been taken care of and thrown on the pile of clothing on the floor at the foot of the bed. You were getting ready to lay on the bed, having moved the duvet and additional pillows aside, but the Doctor stopped you.

"Can we try something?" He asked, still leaning over you, hands caressing your neck and the back of your shoulders as you turned towards him.

"Yeah, sure." You answered, interested in what he had in mind.

He kissed you again, gently holding your lower lip between his teeth before letting it go to focus on you.

"I want you on top." He stated simply. Kissing along your neck, fingers tracing your sides. "I want to watch you take what you need." He spoke against your chest in between soft kisses. "Is that alright?"

He asked, and you never knew that asking you for your consent to try something new would be so hot.

"Yes," You hissed. He had taken one of your nipples in his mouth, gently sucking on it and holding the other breast in his hand. His thumb was moving over the other in soft circles.

"Lovely." He commented, giving your chest one last kiss before leaning away from you to arrange the pillows to make himself comfortable. A few were placed against the headboard, allowing him to lie in a half-sitting position. The Doctor nodded to you, signalling that he was ready.

"C'mon then. Let me feel you." He beckoned you, hissing in pleasure when you moved over to him, lowering yourself over his lap. His cock was half erect, so you pumped it a few times, letting the tip grace over your folds.

"You are so good", He whispered, eyes closed in pleasure. He reached for your body, hands exploring your back. "So good to me." He mumbled, already drunk on you.

You positioned him, slowly lowering yourself into his lap and moaning in pleasure just as he did. You took a few breaths, stabilising yourself on his shoulders. He felt different but filled you oh so deliciously.

"I'm gonna move now." You announced, making him nod. His hands had found their place on your hips, pulling your torso a little forward. He looked up as you filled his vision. You looked ethereal; the dimmed light of the Tardis was behind you, creating a halo around you.

"My goddess, my sweet sweet girl." He groaned, pushing his hips into yours to reach deeper.

He held you, slowly pulling your chest into him. You were both catching your breaths, lying in a loving embrace.

You were both getting close.

He held you as you rode him, feeling blissful to see the expression of pleasure on your face. You felt your core tighten. His gentle fingers and thrusts move you closer to the edge.

"Go on," He said, moving onto his elbows to kiss along your neck. "Take what you need. I want to see you come."

His encouragement drove you closer; you fasten your paste while he uses his hands on your hips to push himself more deeply with each thrust. You were becoming hazy, so close to that sweet release. He noticed it, too, finding the soft spot behind your ear and sucking on it gently.

That threw you over the edge, coming with a gasp. You could feel your cervix pulsating, squeezing him inside you.

"That's it." He chuckled softly, but it quickly turned into a moan as he, too, came. The sight of your orgasm, the fact that his words and actions had helped you reach that sweet spot. It gave him the last push to tip over the edge and cum.

"I love you so much", He mumbled against your ear, fingers skimming over your back and holding you close.

You hummed, "I Love you, too. Till the end of time," You turned your head away from its position against his neck to kiss him softly.

You stayed that way for a moment longer, petting each other gently and sharing kisses. With a soft groan, you let his cook slip out. You managed to shift onto the side, leaning next to him. You were spent, happy to feel the soft comfort of the bed underneath you.

The Doctor sat up to reach for the duvet at the foot of the bed, placing it over the two of you. He had lifted his arm to let you move on his chest, just like you always did.

No words were spoken as you moved to place your head on his chest, your free hand gently laying next to it. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, arm wrapped around you and fingers smoothing over your arm in a slow back and forth.

He sighed, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of you next to him. He wouldn't mind staying like this for the rest of his life and the ones following it.

You shifted a little to look at him, your eyes meeting, smiling softly at each other.

"What do you want to do now?" You asked softly, drawing patterns into his skin.

He hummed, thinking for a moment.

"The club? You go partying?" You asked, chucking at the absurd idea. He had never been to a club, not that you knew about. But with each regeneration came new quirks.

"I wouldn't mind a nap." He joked, smile widening as he saw you laugh. He squeezed your shoulder softly before leaning back.

"How about a nap. And then we go to the club?" He offered.

"Yeah, I feel like we should go to a club. Maybe something exciting will happen." He winked, leaning forward to kiss you again before settling into the pillows and closing his eyes.

[rorywritesjunk]

(I'm not done with this shojo-esque au yet asfkg Sunny is a teen girl and honestly she would draw lil hearts over things with s+b in the middle of them)

pt 1 + pt 2 + pt 3 + pt 4 + pt 5 + pt 6 + pt 7 + pt 8 + pt 9 + pt 10 + pt 11 + pt 12 + pt 13 + pt 13.5 + pt 14 + pt 15

pt 7

Buggy stared at the blank pages in front of him, trying to think of what to write down. After their last visit, Sunny gifted him with a journal, encouraging him to write his adventures down instead of the two writing letters. She had her own, one decorated with ducks on it whereas his had blue wave-like patterns on it.

Sure, things had been exciting on the ship. He was trying to acquire as much treasure and berry as possible for his own ship while squirreling away more little gifts for Sunny, but where did he even start?

A year had almost passed since they first met. A few weeklong visits were sprinkled in for Buggy's captain to get some work done on his clothes by Miss Pins and her workers. And every visit Buggy came along to see Sunny and every visit ended with Sunny giving his hand a squeeze as she told him she liked him.

He was pretty sure he didn't just like her but that he was falling in love with her.

His fear was what if she didn't feel the same? What if just 'liking' him was just that: she liked him as a friend, nothing more, didn't want a romance with him. She just wanted to be friends.

It was a few weeks after Buggy's 17th birthday. His captain announced they would be stopping by the island for two weeks this time to give everyone a break for all the hard work they've been doing. Buggy didn't think much about it but he made sure his hair was brushed and face clean before he went with his captain to the shop. He had his journal in one hand and a little box in the other, more little trinkets for Sunny that he had collected since they last saw each other.

When he entered the shop he saw Sunny. She was sitting at the table again, working with one of the other apprentices on how to fix a sweater. While his captain chatted with Miss Pins, Buggy remained in his spot, watching Sunny for a moment. He didn't know if he should bother her as her boss made it clear from the beginning she didn't like Buggy.

When Sunny didn't notice him, Buggy's captain finally cleared his throat, catching the attention of both teenagers. Sunny finally looked at Buggy, her eyes lighting up as she smiled. Without warning she got up and rushed over to him, throwing her arms around him as usual as she slammed into him. This time he was ready, managing not to fall or have his body separate. He was able to pop his hands off to keep holding the items before wrapping his arms around her.

"Buggy! Happy birthday!" Sunny said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. His face turned bright red and he almost jerked away but she kept a hold on him. "Let's go celebrate!"

He looked over at his captain who was giving him a thumbs up as Miss Pins looked cross, but at least she wasn't reaching for her gun this time. Sunny pulled away to grab a small bag at the table before returning to Buggy, taking his hand in hers before dragging him out of the shop.

~

"Ho-How the hell did you know it was my birthday?" Buggy stammered out as Sunny handed him a sweet treat from a street vendor. He still had his gift for her and journal, making it difficult to hold her hand with the things he carried. Instead she looped her arm around his while they walked.

"Your captain told me your birthday was sometime in August when you were last here." She told him as he led him away from the crowds. "So I made something for you."

"What?! Really?" He had received gifts for his birthday growing up on the Oro Jackson and they were always something useful. What could Sunny have made him? Clothes would have been nice but she wouldn't have had his measurements. The bag was too small for a ship or a hat. He looked at her then at the bag. "What is it?"

She paid for their treat and led him away from the vendor, finding a spot for them to sit. Buggy handed her his journal and box while she took her journal out of the bag and handed both to him. He immediately reached into the small bag, pulling out a square of red and white striped fabric.

"Here, your hair is long so this is meant to keep it out of your face." Sunny told him as she took it from him and folded it into a triangle and gestured for him to turn away from her. He just moved his head, keeping his body still as she placed it over the top of his head and tied the points into a knot at the base of his skull. "There. I thought something practical would be good."

"Thanks." Buggy mumbled as his face turned red and he looked down at the treat she had bought him. How could someone just be this kind and thoughtful?

"Happy birthday." She smiled and took a bite of her snack. "Um, I also wrote in my journal. If you... Want to read it you can, or if you don't I understand! This may have been a silly idea."

"Oh, um. I wrote... Stuff down but it wasn't too exciting." Buggy shrugged as he held up his notebook. Sunny seemed hesitant to share hers but eventually handed it over to him. He eyed her before he opened it up and flipped through some of the pages. She hasn't been writing very much, just fun little doodles of ducks, clothing designs with little notes next to them, and a scribble of Buggy with a Captain's hat and fancy looking coat. There was even a little heart next to him.

When he looked back over at her, she was red in the face and hiding behind his journal. "You can ignore those, um, I just had ideas and stuff about what I thought you would look good in. So um... Yea." She looked away, face still burning. "Just um, yea. I mostly wrote about some customers, some new things I learned, stuff like that. Y'know, stuff to know when I join your crew in a few years."

Oh, oh, was she still considering that? Buggy's own face was turning red as he looked between her and the drawing. She had used some colorful pencils on his scribble, using them to accent certain parts of the hat and jacket. She even colored his nose and hair.

"So you uh, still want to?" He asked as he flipped through the journal, glancing over at her. She was nodding, face still hidden. "Oh, good, because uh," he cleared his throat, "I would really like it if you did." He looked away for a moment before looking back at her. She was looking over the top of the journal, eyes wide as she watched him. Buggy cleared his throat again and straightened up. "Really, okay, because you keep saying you like me, Sunny, and well, I like you too, okay?! So you better join my crew! I'll need the best tailor around, got it?"

She just nodded, lowering the journal as she smiled at him. "I got it, Buggy."

[orangerosebush]

It would have been so funny if Minerva were sometimes a bit mean to Butler (whose friendship she does cherish).

Butler gets a little overly precious about something tedious (i.e. related to Artemis' whims), and Minerva sighs and emails him a PDF of Madame de Sévigné's letter to Madame de Grignan regarding the death of Vatel (with the implication being that Butler is similarly running himself ragged due to his rigidity).

(ENG trans.:

It's Sunday, April 26th. This letter won't be going out until Wednesday, though it's not a letter. Moreso, it's a report that Moreuil has just given me for your benefit concerning what happened with Vatel at Chantilly. I wrote to you on Friday that he had stabbed himself. Now, here's the story in detail. The King arrived on Thursday evening. The stroll, the meal in a place carpeted with daffodils -- they were just right.

Yet, Vatel was seized by a situation, and said several times: “I've lost my honor. This is an affront I won't stand".

He said to Gourville: "My head is spinning. I haven't slept for twelve nights. Help me give orders."

Gourville reassured Vatel as much as he could.

On a prior night, the roast had been missing. Though its absence was thankfully not at the king's table, but rather at the twenty-fifth table, the incident kept coming back to his mind.

Gourville told the Prince of Vatel's woes.

The Prince went to Vatel's room and said to him: “Vatel, all is well. Nothing was as beautiful as the king's supper.”

Vatel replied: “My Lord, your kindness is killing me; I know that the roast was missing from two tables."

"Not at all,” said the Prince; "Don't trouble yourself further. Everything's fine."

Then, midnight came. The fireworks failed. They were covered by a cloud -- sixteen thousand francs, all for nothing.

At four o'clock in the morning, Vatel searched everywhere, finding everyone asleep. Finally, he met the vendor who was supposed to bring the fish for the coming feast. Finding that the man had brought him just two loads of fish, Vatel asked him, “Is that all?"

"Yes, sir," the man said. He didn't know that Vatel had sent to all the seaports.

Vatel waited for some time, but the other vendors did not arrive. His head was spinning. It struck him that this might be all the shipments they would receive.

Vatel found Gourville, moaning: “Sir, I will not survive this shame.”

Gourville laughed at him.

Vatel went up to his room, put his sword against the door, and put it through his heart. Yet, it was only on the third blow he expired, for he gave himself two wounds that were not mortal. Finally, he fell dead.

It was then that the shipments of fish, however, came in from all the vendors upon whom Vatel had called.

Everyone sought out Vatel. When people finally went to his room, knocked, and broke down the door, they found him drowning in his own blood. They ran to the Prince, who was in despair.

The Duke wept; Vatel had been the focus of his entire trip to Burgundy.

The Prince told the King very sadly, "It was said that this tragedy was by dint of having honor in his own way."

Vatel was praised highly. His strength was praised and blamed.

The King said he had been putting off coming to Chantilly for five years because he understood the excess of this embarrassment. He told the Prince that he should only have two tables, and not take charge of everything. The King swore that he would never again allow the Prince to do so.

But: it was too late for poor Vatel.

Gourville, however, tried to repair Vatel's loss.

The tragedy was repaired. We dined very well, had a snack, supped, strolled, played, went hunting. Everything was scented with daffodils. Everything was enchanted. ")

[akehoshimystar]

Chapter 6

After taking all possible measures, we decided to wait and see how Kyoka-san’s ex would respond. I was busy preparing for the dress-up event, which was now in the home stretch.

Ito: (As for the tuxedos, I just need to wait for a reply from them.)

(Also for Kosaka-san to check the layout of the venue... Oh, quick work he did there. He’s responded already.)

As I was checking the new messages from Chattas, I received a text from Sei-san at the perfect time.

Okiya Sei : I’m contacting you on behalf of Taiga regarding the dress-up event budget application you submitted. In the accounting aspect, there is no problem.

Ito: Ah. That's good to know...

(Hmm?)

Okiya Sei : By the way, Yashiro-san. Can we talk now?

Just as I was about to reply, another message popped up. I replied that I was alone in the office at the moment, so feel free. Shortly after, Sei-san requested a call.

Ito: Thank you for your hard work.

Sei: [Same to you. Sorry if this is a bit sudden, but there is something I would like to confirm.]

[Regarding the small items scheduled to be ordered from an outside vendor, in particular, the semi-custom artificial flower bouquet. Are you sure about this one?]

[From what I can see, most of the other accessories seem to have spares.]

Ito: Artificial flower bouquet.... Oh, there’s no mistake there.

It's for a torso display that will be placed at the entrance, so there’s no need for a spare, even Kise-san has already checked it….

Having said that, I noticed something. I think I heard Sei-san chuckle a little on the other end of the line.

Sei: [Something came to your mind?]

Ito: ...Although It has been confirmed that it's not necessary for the event….

I was allowed to use that bouquet for this kind of request. As for the spare, I think it would be safer to have one.

Sei: [Oh, thank goodness. That's exactly what I was going to suggest.]

Ito: Sorry, I should have noticed when I submitted it... Thank you.

Sei: [Fufu, I haven't said anything worthwhile yet. No need to thank me.]

Ito: If you hadn’t notified me, I think I would have panicked even more later on.

I'll revise the document and resubmit it by today. Sorry for increasing your workload, but please check it again.

Sei: [Oh. There’s no need for that.]

Ito: Huh?

Sei: [This might sound a bit presumptuous, but I've already created a revised version of it.]

[If you only need to add one spare, we will handle it. I will report to Ai-kun as well.]

Ito: (.….Incredible. This place is really full of considerate people who are good at their jobs...it's almost strange.)

Sei: So, I heard that you're also involved in the groom substitute case.

Along with event preparation and regular work... You must be very busy right now.

This may not be of much help, but I will take responsibility for this task, so please use your time for other work, Yashiro-san.

Also, don’t forget to get plenty of rest. Your job is to complete the task without excessive fatigue.

Ito: [I understand. Thank you.]

[Then, I will take you up on your offer.]

Sei: With pleasure.

Ito: (I couldn’t be more grateful. I haven't finished what I wanted to finish today, so I've been quite anxious...)

Well then, I will leave it to you.

Sei: [Just one more thing.]

Ito: ?

Sei: [This is something I often tell Taiga, and others may have already told you the same thing.]

[When you're working hard on something, you should actively rely on those around you.]

Ito: (Actively relying on others...)

Sei: [I'll always help you as much as I can. Please feel free to consult me ​​about even the smallest things.]

Ito: ………………Thank you.

That’s very reassuring to hear.

Sei: [I'm glad you feel that way. I’ll be supporting you from afar.]

He said that in a gentle voice before hanging up.

Ito: (...He has a different way of handling things from Fushimi-san. Sei-san is also good at reading even if it’s something in the future, or should I say he is someone who can act by making use of his broad perspective?)

(I’m really spoiled.)

…..Thank you once again. I put my hands together in front of the Chattas screen, expressing my final gratitude before resuming my work… While Sei-san’s strangely calm words were ringing in my ears.

After that, I was able to concentrate on the rest of my work, and the preparations for the event were also advancing ahead of schedule.

Ito: (All that's left is to decide on the menu for the day... Hmm?)

As I was looking over the documents I had sent, a shadow suddenly fell over me. When I reflexively looked up…

Ai: Thinking about the menu?

Ito: …………Yes.

(That really surprised me, he was behind me before I knew it...)

After looking at the party food in the recipe book and the course menu from a popular restaurant on the monitor, Kosaka-san spoke again.

Ai: Have you given up on the idea you mentioned the other day?

Ito: (Oh…..)

Nope. I was also considering incorporating the menu that the actual venue has to offer for the sake of advertising the place itself. 

If that is possible, I think that would be the best course of action, but….

Ai: What's bothering you?

Ito: The chef's cooperation, including the provision of recipes, is essential, so I'm concerned about whether he will accept this condition...

Would he be willing to accept the offer simply because it would help promote the venue?

Ai: If you want to ask for necessary cooperation, that’s too weak.

I heard the chef at that venue is highly skilled, but can be difficult to please.

Ito: That’s certainly an issue....

I guess we have to ask Nina-san to come up with an original recipe this time.

Ai: There must be other options.

Ito: (Huh?)

Other than that, huh?

Ai: If there are few benefits, just add more. If you think that’s the way it should be, stick with it a little longer before letting it go.

It's an idea worth considering.

Ito: (...Kosaka-san...)

In response to the words of affirmation that came to me at an unexpected time, I bowed my head half-heartedly, unable to properly say “Thank you.” Kosaka-san didn't say anything, just looked at me as if waiting for me to say something.

Ito: (Adding benefits, huh…)

.…..How about conducting a simple survey for customers and sharing the results?

Ai: Survey...?

Ito: Yes. I believe the reviews and impressions about the food are beneficial for both the venue and the chef.

Ai: Not bad.

In addition, narrow down the points you need help with as much as possible and try to reduce any disadvantages he may feel in advance.

For example, telling him at the beginning that the food preparation on that day will be done by our own staff alone.

Ito: Okay.

(Assuming he didn’t help with the cooking…. It would be difficult for the outsider to follow the same course format as the actual one.)

(What is needed is a menu that makes good use of those elements and can be completed with the same amount of effort as a regular event...)

......Ah. “Providing recipes for existing menu items” and “arranging those menu items into a one-plate format”.

Maybe I could at least ask him to help with those two tasks...

Ai: I see no problem.

Ito: !

Ai: I'll leave the negotiations to you. If necessary, ask Riku-san or anyone from that department for advice.

Ito: Understood.

Uhhh….. Thank you.

Ai: I’m pretty sure I have told you that we would do everything we can to achieve the best results. Neglecting the necessary work is the last thing I want to do. 

You too should continue to work hard and stay alert.

Ito: ….Yes, sir.

(...Ah, I see how it is.)

“Make sure you all work hard as always”. I remember Kosaka-san's words that made me hold my head up high.

Ito: (If you think about it, it's pretty obvious. I just didn't notice it.)

(That “you all” also included Kosaka-san himself.)

Ai: Also, take Nina with you. 

Ito: (Huh?)

Ai: If your opponent is someone who doesn't think logically, you need weapons other than “reasonable bargaining materials”. Just in case. Consider it insurance.

Chapter 7

[iponewz]

Ryobi Electric Zero Turn Mower

This is an update on my initial review of the Ryobi Zero Turn mower after less than one year of use and subsequent return. Both potential buyers and current owners should be aware of what may very well be imminent battery failure and actions they may need to take. I was genuinely excited when I took ownership of this mower, but less than a year later that quickly faded. Substantial battery degradation has happened to many other owners as well. I tried leaving reviews on both Ryobi and Home Depot’s websites, but they moderate them and chose not to publish mine, so here goes.

During this process, I came to realize how terrible Ryobi customer service is. I’ll document these experiences and having to reach to both the Attorney General’s office and Better Business Bureau. Read on…

The Battery The battery is the root of the problem. After only 3 months of ownership I already noticed I wasn’t able to mow our 1.86 acres on a single charge. Everything I’ve later researched on lead acid batteries shows that they are not designed to handle anywhere near as many “cycles” as Lithium-ion batteries. The lead acid battery used on this mower seems to be its achilles heal. Approximately 10 months into ownership, I was now charging 3-4 times just to mow our entire property. Knowing the 1-year warranty on the battery was coming up, I called Ryobi. They told me to take it to an authorized repair center that was about 45 minutes away. I called the repair center, and verified when I could drop it off.

Dropping the Mower Off at the Ryobi Authorized Repair Center Upon dropping off the mower in May, I was informed it would take 3-4 weeks before they could even look at it. While certainly inconvenient, I realize this is likely peak season for them. In about a 3 weeks, I received a call from the service center who confirmed one of the four battery cores was bad. Worse yet, I was informed the batteries were backordered and weren’t expected for 8 weeks.

Battery Backorder I called the service center after 8 weeks had passed for an update (July 2021). This update was not good. I was now told the batteries would not be available until October 22nd. This would now be over 5 months without the mower. That doesn’t include time for the vendor to ship the batteries, arrive at the service center. The service center would also need time to install the batteries.

Home Depot and Extended Warranty Customer Service After hearing they didn’t expect batteries until October, I reached out to Home Depot (both a local store and their toll free number. Their customer service is pretty much useless if you haven’t experienced it yourself. They have a 90-day window on mowers so I knew I was outside of that. They advised I reach out to Asurion, who was their previous extended warranty company. I believe they now use All State. Asurion said they could not doing anything since it was still under the factory warranty and advised I reach out to Home Depot. The customer service bounce around was beginning. I’ll leave it at this, but this continued with Ryobi customer support also giving me a runaround and saying there was nothing else they could do.

Consumer Warranty Protection Act Realizing I was getting no where with the Ryobi / Home Depot / Asurion 3-ring circus, I started researching other alternatives. For anyone else experiencing similar situations with warranty work not being completed in a timely manner, research the Consumer Warranty Protection Act. When the manufacturer doesn’t meet the Consumer Warrant Act, your next step is likely the Attorney General…

Filing a Complaint Against Ryobi with the Attorney General This is what finally got me past some of the unknowledgeable customer service reps that kept giving me the run-around to contact one of the other companies. Ryobi seemingly trains their phone reps to say “I don’t know” or “you should try calling Home Depot” and “there’s nothing else I can do”. Reaching out to the Attorney General’s office (if in the United States, search the Attorney General for your specific state) and you should be able to fill out an inquiry online. At least, that’s what I did for Washington state. After filing a complaint with the Attorney General, I started getting calls from not only Ryobi, but also Asurion and Home Depot.

The person from Home Depot who contacted me was part of their Executive Escalations Team. The initial conversations started out well, but then I started receiving several bits of contradiction. She would say one thing, then a week or two later I was told something completely different. The level of customer service was frustrating. It got to the point where I had to only use email to make sure I had everything in writing to send back over to show her “no, this is not what you said last time”.

By filing a complaint with the Attorney General’s office the company(s) are given so many days to respond. This likely varies state to state.

Home Depot Buy Back After several weeks and months, Home Depot agreed to buy the mower back. They had offered to replace the mower, but there was no way I wanted to deal with anything Ryobi again. During several weeks of conversations, the Home Depot rep tried placing the long delay on the service center. They can’t replace the batteries if Ryobi says they’re backordered and doesn’t send them any.

The Executive Escalations rep at first tried telling me I could use my extended warranty from Asurion to have them transport the mower back to Home Depot. If I did this, I would not be eligible for a refund. The closest Home Depot to the authorized service center was only 1.5 miles away. Essentially having to pay $300 (voiding my warranty refund) sounded absolutely absurd. I also had to get my trailer from our cabin if I was going to pick up the mower and drop it off myself. This was going to cause me to miss a full day of work. Long story short, I picked up the mower and dropped it off at Home Depot. They gave me a refund via two separate gift cards since it was well past their 90 day warranty. Still not sure why they couldn’t have issued just one.

Was This Just My Mower? Certainly parts can be defective and go bad sooner than expected, but the battery is an ongoing problem with Ryobi. When I picked up the mower from the authorized service center there was another Ryobi Zero Turn in their main area when you walk-in. It didn’t look like mine, and wasn’t. When I got a chance to talk to the guy at the counter, he informed me mine was in the back with yet another. This is a relatively small repair shop and they happened to have 3 of the Ryobi Zero Turn mowers in for repair. I asked if they were all for battery degradation issues, and he said yes. He even said he’s had other owners call in, but because of the battery backorder situation he was suggesting they wait to bring them in.

How many other owners had called in? I didn’t get that number, but this is should definitely be a red flag for potential buyers as well as current owners. If you own a Ryobi Zero Turn and are coming up on the 1-year battery warranty be careful. Should you suspect any battery degradation, it’s probably worth having the mower checked.

Reviews on Home Depot’s Website For anyone thinking this still might be an isolated situation, filter the reviews on Home Depot’s website for the 1 and 2 star reviews. You’ll come across quite a few battery issues. Ryobi seems to give a fairly generic copy and paste response to all the 1 and 2 star reviews. The email address they provide I’ve reached out to three separate times, zero response. That’s when I started calling.

Consumer Reports At the time of this article, the Consumer Reports overall rating for the Ryobi Zero Turn mower was a mere 72 out of 100. I can only imagine this rating will decrease as people own this mower for a couple years or more. Compare this to the EGO Zero Turn which currently has an overall Consumer Reports score of 87.

Read more

[popoaniani]

I found my old journal from 2016

I was working on a book that I completely forgot about and never finished. It surprised me and also made me laugh so I had to share it (I don't really write like this anymore lol). Here's an excerpt:

“HARD CORE PORN!!!” Mike bellowed at some unfortunate tourists, imitating the street vendors peddling their wares. Hot Dogs! Genuine Cajun Cooking! Ghetto Burgers only three fitty! then Mike: “HARD CORE PORN!!” Nobody indicated interest in making a purchase.

I decided to join in supportingly. “Soft core porn?” I suggested in a low, sultry tone to passing tourists who had snubbed Mike’s loud offer.

“HARD CORE PORN!!!” Mike hollered. 

“soft core porn” I cooed.

I am uncertain how long we kept this up, as my perception of time came and went in gross, unwelcome waves. We received surprisingly few acknowledgements; our seedy offer folding in seamlessly with the debauched hustle and drug addled bustle. A permanent, Charlie-Sheen’s-forever-bachelor-party vibe in the New Orleans French Quarter.

Earlier in the evening, we had purchased two hits of acid from a teenage girl sitting on the step outside Checkpoints. After about a half hour of no visuals, we cursed her for burning us and turned to a new connect. Aha hooked us up with some green jelly tabs that did the trick. The rest of the night is a demented blur. Mike had gifted me a small baggie of cocaine that was in his possession. He told me blow makes him throw up. Why he had it in the first place was unclear, but I sat down on a tree stump next to the fire station to do a few bumps. The chaos of the tourist jammed streets was all the cover I needed. With all the real crimes being committed in the Big Easy, one grows acclimated to a certain false secure feeling while engaging in recreational drug use.

In a city where sex tourism and alcohol abuse make up the best part of the economy, it’s easy to believe that in fact most of the people around you are tripping balls, and those who aren’t really have no business being here at all. 

“BUTT PLUGS!! HARD CORE PORN!!” Mike publicized his latest offer.

I have a vague memory of someone with a bong stopping us for a smoke break on his front step. New Orleans was that kind of a city. A well meaning observer sees two belligerent nut jobs running down the sidewalk, hooting and hollering in the queasy depths of an acid binge, pupils dilated, sweat pouring from foreheads with pulsing blue veins and crazed grinding smiles cracked across their sticky, pale faces. He thinks to himself, those guys could use some mellowing out, packs a bong and invites them over. There is no other city in America that even comes close to the ill-advised hospitality, the genuine New Orleansness, of New Orleans.

It was a comfortably warm October night and Mike and I had made the lack of arrangements that goes well with staying out all night long. My Chrysler was safely parked in a neighborhood with no meters where I was unlikely to find it until I sobered up the next morning. We had no plans and nobody knew or cared where we were. Or so we thought. 

We finished the bowl, thanked our new found friend whose face we would never remember, for his hospitality, then resumed our walk around the neighborhood. 

I don’t remember the chronology of events that night, so I’m taking some liberty in the order in which I tell the story. At some point we had some weed and some candy. We sat on the front steps to some house in the Quarter and asked passersby if they’d like some M&Ms. If they said ‘yes’, we shared our candy with them, then invited them to smoke a blunt with us. If they said no to the M&Ms, we inquired if they’d like to smoke a blunt with us. We even made the acquaintance of an older gentleman who gifted us a handful of magic mushrooms in exchange for walking directions to a good burger place.

“Do you know how to blow smoke rings?”

“No”

“Do you want to learn how?”

“No”

“Ugh, look it’s easy. Just make an O face.”

I laughed

“Just make an O face! An O face, like this.”

Mike shaped his mouth into an O and made little puffing sounds, demonstrating how to blow the smoke. I laughed hysterically.

“What’s so funny? Stop laughing and let me see your O face.”

Mike and I were finally getting a chance to get to know each other better and ask all the questions we’d had on our minds. “Have you ever played happy wheels?,” he asked me.

Just then, (or maybe significantly later) Mike’s phone buzzed: an incoming call.  

“Just let it go to voicemail” I advised.

“No, I have to take this.” Mike replied.

“Why?” I was confused. You don’t have to do anything, I thought to myself. And whoever is on the other end of that call probably wants nothing to do with your fuck up, acid brain conversation right now. What time is it anyway? It’s got to be late.

The volume on the phone was high enough for me to clearly hear the menacing, low male voice on the other end. 

“Come home Mike.”

“I can’t come home right now. Jazmine and I are staying out all night. We’re tripping balls.”

“But you HAVE to come home.” Holy creeping christ. The voice was that of a cartoon super villain. Somehow I knew that wasn’t the drugs talking either. Whoever it was, they were creepy as fuck. Tonight, tomorrow, fucked up or sober, that voice belonged to a mad man.

“We can’t drive right now. We’re still coming up I think.”

“It doesn’t matter how you get home. This is your home. You need to come home at night. Every night. You will come home now.” The call ended.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK.” I gave Mike a look to emphasize my bewilderment.

“That was Rooster. Can you drive?” He asked.

“You’re not seriously going home are you? Why would you listen to that psychopath? He’s obviously nuts and creepy as fuck! Why does he want you to come home so bad? Why does he treat you like he’s your pimp? What the hell is going on anyway? Is he your pimp? Has he ever touched you inappropriately? I must be missing something.”

“Look, we just have to go.” He wasn’t kidding. I told him there was no way in hell I’d get behind the wheel of my car.

“You don’t have to. I’ll drive. I’m not even tripping that hard anymore.” He offered.

I got behind the wheel of my car. There was some comfort in knowing we were at least sober enough to find the car in the first place.

Mike pointed out turns and warned me of upcoming stop signs as we sped back to Rooster’s apartment.

If this god forsaken roadway would stop expanding and contracting, this drive would be a hell of a lot easier, I thought to myself. Or maybe out loud. Either way, Mike responded. The possibility of him having mind reading abilities was not out of the question. I eyed him suspiciously. 

“You’re doing fine, babe. Only three more blocks straight ahead. There’s a stop sign at this next intersection.”

I was going too fast to stop. We’d have to cross our fingers, hope for the best, and gun it.

Again, Mike interjected, “You know, you can go a little faster.”

I peeked at the speedometer, the numbers dissolving away as I tried to focus on them. I deduced we were in fact idling down the road so I pumped the gas. Dear god, it’s a miracle there are no pedestrians gawking at us or other motorists flipping me off. The neighborhood had an abandoned, 4 am kind of feel. It must have been some ungodly hour of the morning when even New Orleans sex tourists take a breather and weathered French Quarter hookers get a drink and rest their bones at the Spotted Cat before calling it a night.

We pulled up and parallel parked smoothly on the grass in front of Rooster’s apartment. He must have been watching from a window because he opened the door to the main building entrance as we approached.

“Well, well, well. Welcome home Mike… and… Mike’s friend.”

Evil villain voice. I shuddered. Then I smiled. I tried not to but I couldn’t help it. My acid brain was pulling hard on my cheek muscles.  An uncontrolled grin twisted across my face. I couldn’t look directly at Rooster. I knew the moment I did, he would twist into something blotchy and demonic. And I would laugh. Which I couldn’t imagine would help things.

I followed Mike up the stairs to the apartment. Rooster asked us to sit down in the room where another couple was sitting on the floor, playing with scattered tarot cards.

“Do you know why I needed you to come back tonight?”

“No.” Mike replied. I decided to let him handle the situation, since I had only recently arrived and had little background information on his and Rooster’s working relationship. 

Rooster sighed. “I didn’t expect better. Drugs…. and sex…. they corrupt a person. All this coming and going. And your friend… Jazmine, is it? I’ve hardly gotten to know her. Why is that?”

Now the attention was on me. There was uncomfortable silence. Was it the acid blocking some receptor in my cerebral cortex that was stopping me from understanding? What did he want from me? I was starting to get a rapey vibe. Was he trying to ask why Mike wasn’t sharing me with him? I knew he and his girlfriend were swingers. He would bring women over and his girlfriend would watch them through a mirror in the bedroom, unbeknownst to his female guests. Mike confided in me the first day I came over that Rooster had begged Mike’s permission to sleep with either me or one of my friends as some sort of perverted birthday present. 

And if that isn’t what he was asking, why should I have gotten to know him? I’ve only been here two days. Or was it longer than that? Suddenly I couldn’t recall. It couldn’t have been a week already?

“What exactly do you want?” I asked. Maybe a straightforward question would elicit a straightforward response from this mad man.

“If you are learned in philosophy, as I am, you will understand. One can only do so much, to make themselves clear. I have thought it over for some time and have been as polite as I can be. I cannot go on however, in this way. There are others to consider. My girlfriend, for one. I want to be sure, first and foremost, that she is comfortable. Do you follow? Why are you smiling at each other? Do you think this is funny?”

I had been putting all my strength and effort into not laughing. But I couldn’t hold it in. The acid was too good and Rooster was too strange. I was also terrified and laughing was all I could do. I looked at Mike and felt I could read that he was thinking the same thing. That Rooster had lost his mind. I snorted loudly, trying to suppress a laugh. Overcompensating, I considered my words carefully, then spoke.

“I’m sorry, Rooster. I’m just too high for this. Maybe if we had this conversation when I wasn’t tripping balls it would be more productive. I am having trouble understanding what exactly you want from us. Do you want money? How much money do you want to end this conversation right now? I have $300 cash. That covers half your rent for the month.  Let me know if that works for you.”

[juminsmysticmc]

So i had been thinking about this for a while and i apologize coz requests are closed and i'm requesting - you can ignore this if you want :) And anyways, I was thinking that what if mc uses up all of her life savings and stuff to buy Jumin a damn expensive luxury watch as his wedding gift since well Jumin already bought her A LOT of things and she wants to give him something. How would Jumin react to it

Jumin x Mc who spent her life savings to buy Jumin an anniversary gift

Hey hey! This request is really cute and I tried my best to write it so that everyone could enjoy it! Please tell me what you think of it!

,,Are you sure that you want to do it?’’ your older brother asked you, also the person that was a bank clerk who was going to give you your life savings for a single watch. ,,Yes, of course,’’ you nodded, looking down at your wallet. Your parents saved money after your birth for important matters like your driver’s license or your school tuition and you kept saving money in that bank account. And after years, all those hard-working hours, birthday presents, and new years money were finally used - for the person you loved the most.

You and Jumin would soon be celebrating your five year wedding anniversary. A lot of things happened in that time and the two of you had good and stressful times. You argued you cried, you made up, you made love. Jumin and your marriage was an exciting one, filled with happiness and love. Your husband showered you with attention and love, as well as presents. Of course, sometimes you had the feeling that he was giving too much and receiving much less than he deserved, but on the other hand, you always remembered that this was the way Jumin got taught to show love. You loving him, making him dinner, or hugging him while taking a nap made him feel so overjoyed that he didn’t want any presents from you. However, you still had the feeling that you should also give him something special, something that would remind him of you, your marriage, and the happiness that was filling the both of you from day to day. ,,Instead of using all your money, you could give him an heir and my son someone to play with,’’ your brother nagged. ,,You are the one who should just give me the money I saved up, not nag at my decisions,’’ you commented, knowing that he was just being considerate. Besides, Jumin and you were already trying, but neither of you was getting stressed over the fact that you were still left without children. ,,Well, here you are. I hope the watch you are going to buy him is surrounded by gold,’’ he gulped, handing you over the money. You smiled one last time before you left the building and entered driver Kim’s car.

With the limousine and your personal driver, you immediately drove over to your favorite jewelry store to pick up your order:  a very luxurious watch. The leather was high quality. It felt comfortable and soft, just like a second skin. Even the box of the watch was a very special one. You really liked the watch you decided on. ,,Just like you requested, Mrs. Han, I am sure that your husband will like it, especially because this is his favorite brand. It’s very elegant,’’ the vendor said, making you smile. ,,I especially like the gravure,’’ you confessed, your finger touching the date of your wedding day around the new watch. This wasn’t just a simple watch, it was way more. The woman in front of you smiled before you looked up and told her that you would like to pay.

A few minutes later, after you let her put the watch back in its package, you let Driver Kim bring you to a cake shop and grocery shopping, where you made sure to buy the last things for your special day for the coming day. Even though it was Jumin, your husband, and it wasn’t the first anniversary together, this evening felt different. You felt excited, scared, and nervous at the same time. However, you knew that Jumin would surely like the present you got him and you were right.

Jumin didn’t even expect a present from you. When you slowly handed him the box at the dinner table, just before the waiter brought you the dessert, he looked at you with big eyes. ,,My love, what is this?’’ he asked you. His right hand was still over your left hand while his dark eyes looked directly into yours. ,,Open it and find out,’’ you chuckled, biting your lips to observe his every movement. Jumin took his hand from yours and slowly opened the package before he gasped. ,,Is this… you bought me a watch? It’s even my favorite brand…’’ he noticed, looking at you with big eyes. He however maintained his cool, just like always, and smiled at you, making your heart grow warm. ,,I really appreciate it. I love it, Mc, I am so thankful,’’ he whispered, his voice was trembling a bit as he slowly took out the watch to look at it. ,,It even has our date on it,’’ he noticed. ,,I’m glad that you like it, Jumin,’’ you told him honestly, finally feeling relieved seeing his satisfied face. ,,But,’’ Jumin mumbled, looking up. ,,The bank called me earlier today. I still couldn’t check the reason - but I guess this was the reason why you withdraw such a large amount, right?’’ he asked you.

You suddenly felt bad. Was it because he knew the price? Or did you feel as if he noticed that you could barely buy him a watch? ,,I’m happy. I’m going to accept this because you decided to spend your life savings on me,’’ he told you.

,,However Mc, I want you to keep saving money for yourself, and I beg you to not worry about me or about me not being happy because you don’t give me any presents, because this isn’t true at all. My daily present is to see your smiling face, to feel your warm touch, and to be next to you,’’ Jumin told you, taking your hand to give you a kiss. You were touched to tears and nodded. You knew that Jumin wasn’t the kind of man who would feel bad because you didn’t give him anything, but this was still something you had the feeling you had to do and you were happy that Jumin indeed accepted you and didn’t reject it. And the watch was his new favorite possession. Afterward, he bragged about it in the chatroom with a rather blurry picture.

And in every interview, he made sure to mention the watch. It was embarrassing for you, but at the same time, you felt happy that Jumin seemed to like his new watch a lot and his happiness was yours….

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

21.03.2022 // 21:32 MEST

[noirbriar]

FFXV AU: The Little Things

In which the young glaives all share 1 braincell with an overactive imagination during down time and ends up with a beautiful misunderstanding. Please note that they are also, unreliable narrators.

Borderline OOC crack because this group is wild like that and I needed something stupid, hence this ficlet.I’m going to go back into my hiding hole now.

——

“I’ve figured it out.”

“What?”

“You are dating a criminal.”

Nyx spits out his beer, and glares at Libertus,“ What- Libs?!”

“Its either that or you became a sugar baby.” Libertus declares darkly.These are the things you never wish to tear out of your childhood friend. However, considering all the meagre bits that Libertus can squeeze out of Nyx, it was the only logical conclusion he could get.

Nyx Ulric stares at his old friend and comrade dumbly like he’s stupid.

Here in their quiet corner at Yamachang’s, the crew of four are decompressing after yet another deployment. The Galahdian owner himself too busy yelling at his neighbouring vendor for tripping his power cable, again.

“Huh.That sounds retarded but kinda makes sense. ” Crowe wonders aloud blinks with a brow raised at Nyx, who is blinking at Libertus’ outrageous declaration stupidly. Her interest peaked, before taking out her cell and typing in something. Pelna though, has blanked out completely.

“What are you doing?” Libertus turns to her and peers over her shoulder. “The hell!? Crowe!”

“Moogling how to get him a fake passport and ID out. Lestallum sounds safe. Or maybe we should get plastic sur-“

“No! We’re not doing that! We’re Glaives and thats illegal!” Libertus snaps and slaps down the young mage’s phone on the table,“I just want to tell you, I’ve connected the dots anyway-” The bigger Galahdian replies blandly.

“You’ve connected shit. What are you idiots up to?” Luche calls out as he joins the crew along with a couple of other Glaives in tow.

“We’re talking about our Hero’s mysterious lover.” Pelna starts. A few whistles and laughter rose at that.

“And we also think that he’s dating a criminal.”

Silence drops before chaos breaks out amongst the platoon.

“Just-hold on! How did we even get to this conclusion?!” Nyx yells at the group who starts up a heated debate.

“Okay, hear me out. So-“ Libertus pauses for a swig, “You only told us that he’s a dude, earns enough, their job makes them travel, a rather good fighter and quite a looker and YES. I . Know. Your standards. AND! We know he might have killed a man or two. So, you put A and B, you get a damn criminal-”

“You get shit! When did you see him kill someone huh!?” Nyx jabs a pointy skewer violently over, which Libertus simply shoves away.

“He’s not denying he CAN kill!” Someone shouts from the back, earning them a finger from Nyx.

“You got us all drinks when we went to the new club! The hostess came to you and went all ‘Hey handsome! Courtesy of your sweetheart’! And you took it with thanks! Like, you knew all along we had free drinks coming!”

“Weren’t you drunk on the floor by then? Also, I’m not going to be turning down free shots even if they are from someone else!”

“Didn’t the same hostess tell us not to take both trays, said the other one was for the VIP table next door and its spiked, and we all laughed?” Minos, one of Nyx’s fellow kinsmen, mutters wryly and receives sudden attention from the Glaives who fall silent once more.

“Oh so Nyx’s sugar daddy was the one who bought us drinks?” A new glaive, pipes up while munching on a cracker.

“Thats it?! Thats your takeaway from all this? Not the fact that Nyx’s sugar daddy bought us Glaives shots and poisoned the civvies next door?” Kaia, one of the Galahdian ladies, barks grimly.

“What?!” Now even Luche looks constipated, and Luche doesn’t give a shit about anything outside of work.

“Will you please stop calling him that?! We both share the expenses!” Nyx groans, mentally exhausted with this lot who are all ignoring him in favour of something juicier.

“I’m was going to take a piss and saw some of the VIPs next table. Then I saw some were on News at 9 the next day, said that their death is still pending investigation. I checked. Its some rich bloke and a private banker involved in some money laundering thing and stuff awhile ago. ” Minos finally lays out his findings to his audience.

“C-Could it be just a coincidence?” Pelna, ever the optimist.

“See! Criminal! You can’t tell me all this secrecy is normal!” Libertus exclaims helplessly.“Then that one place you went for a date-“

“I knew it! So you lot really were the ones that stalked me then?! Ifrit’s bloody dick, what the fuck is friendship even at this point?!” Nyx throws his hand up in frustration and glares at his platoon.

“We were worried, dumbass.” Crowe rolls her eyes and sips her soda. “Though I have to admit, you managed to shake us off every time. Can’t even even track your partner either, like he’s never there whenever we tried to stake him out. Impressive.”

“That’s not the point! The point is that we found out that area you went for your date down by South Gate is run by Lucian gang members. Legit, proper, fucking, gangsters who doesn’t give a shit about the law! You had told us that your boyfriend said it was a place run by a ‘family friend’!” Libertus yells, earning them another round of roars from their comrades.

“It was! And the food is actually good!” Nyx tries retort but the Glaives are not having it.

“You don’t just simply vanish from a Kingsglaive! Or get connections like that! Libs is right! I bet he is a gang leader!” one of the glaives yells.

“Am I the only one paying attention to the fact its a restaurant run by a gangster?” Pelna mutters dryly to Crowe beside him.

“The people there have mad tats tho. Gotta say I like the fancy design they got going-”

“Crowe. Please.”

“ALRIGHT! That’s it. Either I’m leaving or I get wasted, I should not be sober for this shit.” Luche grumbles like the wet blanket he is and turns to help himself to a crate of beer from the back of the stall along with a couple of fellow Galahdians.”I don’t care who you’re fucking, Ulric! As long as it doesn’t become a problem for us or affects you out there on the field!”

The rest of the group turns to Nyx.

“What can I say? I like to live dangerously on the edge.”Nyx deadpans back as a retort, knowing he cannot argue back at these group of morons anymore at this point.

“I don’t think I want to know more really. In case I do get arrested, so I can legitimately tell them I know nothing.” Pelna finally gathers what sanity he has left hanging at long last and shakes his head. A few Glaives grunt in agreement, considering their status as refugees working in a less than welcoming city, before heading up to get their order from Yamachang.

“Let’s be real, even if he is a criminal, Nyx is a big boy, he probably can stab him first before anything happens.” Crowe tries to convince them as they began to settle down and dig into their supper instead. “Also, I’m gonna have to see how we can get you a fake ID, lover boy. You caught yourself in a mess, so just be careful, yeah? Even if we can’t kill him, I can help you have a Plan B.”

“Wow. Comforting.” Nyx replies dryly.

“You make your own choices but do look after yourself, my brother, please. Though I will admit, you look happier since you started dating. Don’t get hurt, if not, we really are going to go rogue and find a place to bury the guy.” Libertus sighs heavily, swinging an arm around his old friend.

“Thanks. Love you assholes.” Nyx huffs while the gang starts becoming rowdy once more.

“Love you too, Hero.”

——

Nyx finally arrives home at ass o clock, but not really all that wasted. Not after lugging Libertus’ whole ass back to his own apartment, which was enough to sober him up throughly. The young soldier heads up the stairs, careful not to make a noise. He stops by Prompto’s room and checks on the little one, tucking in carefully his chocobo duvet before heading back to the bedroom. He takes a shower and notices the fresh pair of his sleeping pants left by the side of the bath. Nyx smiles and puts it on, before tossing the towel over into the laundry basket. He would get to it tomorrow on his rest day.

Nyx switches off the audio system playing softly and wriggles in under the covers, squirming into his sleeping boyfriend’s hold. Cor gives an annoyed grunt and holds down the restless Galahdian trying to burrow a hole into his shoulder. Nyx finally stops once he is comfortable.

“Cor?”

“Mmngn.”

“Love you. Even if you are a criminal.”

“…I- What?”

.

.

.

——

Extra:

A quiet Crowe, a dissociating Pelna and a nervous Libertus dressed in plains clothes sits on the cushions in a fancy restaurant, feeling exceptionally out of place. The private room decorated in fine pinewood and foreign paintings on its doors. The bamboo in the garden fills the place with a peaceful sound. Yet neither of the Glaives are feeling the zen. Each staring at their hands silently until a stoic lady hands a menu to their host while a waitress serves up some refreshments. The intricate and colourful tattoos visible from the collar and sleeves of the lady’s elegant garbs when she leaves the room. The trio tries their best to refrain from staring at the supposedly high ranking member of the Lucian underground society.

“You may find grilled eel decent, Nyx seems to enjoy it. I personally would recommend bluefin tuna.” The Marshal remarks, glancing at the paper with the seasonal menu of the day quietly. Before he takes the bottle and pours out some for his fellow guests, but pauses to give the underage mage a sparkling juice instead.

“Y-yes sir. Um,” Libertus starts uncomfortably. Out of all the people, of course Nyx just had to go big and date the Immortal, their superior officer and the Lion of Lucis. He’s a Ulric, and they do nothing in halves. “May I ask why…?”

“We did skip a lot of the usual traditions in a marriage, in both Lucian and Galahdian. It matters little to me, but Nyx takes family very seriously, and you three are the closest to that for him. It won’t do for him to miss out on a proper family dinner in your customs. Especially now that you know about our relationship and Prompto.” Cor explains, his arms crossed over his chest once he hands them a delicate cup each.

“I-I see.” Libertus mummers softly, as he remembers that the chocobo chick they have adopted into their community is actually a Leonis. Though he is also somewhat surprised and glad to see a Lucian taking care to note of their Galahdian traditions. They pick up the offered refreshment with a bit more ease now.

“This way at least his own kinsmen will not think he has gone on to elope with a criminal either.”

The Glaives chokes on their sake just as Nyx arrives in casually with young bubbly Prompto bouncing by his side, oblivious to the prior tension in the room.

——

A/N: Cor is just being a lil shit here, messing with his ‘in-laws’. While trying to observe both Lucian and Galahdian customs that he vaguely, somewhat, remembers. Does Cor really know the yakuza? Can the glaives outwit the Marshal? I leave what exactly happened in this fic up to your interpretation.

[wizkiddx]

work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

[swanlake1998]

Article: The Unbearable Whiteness of Ballet

Date: April 22, 2021

By: Chloe Angyal

In an exclusive excerpt from her new book Turning Pointe, contributing editor Chloe Angyal lays out the ways that white supremacy is embedded in ballet's most basic foundations.

Wilmara Manuel and her 11-year-old daughter, Sasha, were at the world finals of a ballet competition, the Youth America Grand Prix, in 2015 when it happened. Shortly before the competition began, the young dancers were on the performance stage with their parents, warming up and preparing to dance the solos they’d been rehearsing for months.

As Wilmara, who is Black and originally from Haiti, and Sasha, who is biracial, stood there, a young white dancer looked around the stage, checking out the competition. “And her eyes land on Sasha,” Wilmara remembers, “and I saw her look [Sasha] up and down, and then look at her mom.

“And her mom said, ‘Don’t worry. They’re never really good anyway.’ ”

Wilmara did her best to contain her shock. Sasha didn’t hear what the white mom had said, and Wilmara wasn’t about to tell her, because “that’s not the thing I want to discuss 10 minutes before she takes the stage.” But Sasha could sense that something was amiss. “Just the look on my face, she was like, ‘What? What happened? What did she say?’ ” Wilmara brushed her daughter off.

Don’t worry. They’re never really good anyway. An entire worldview of white resentment of Black progress and excellence passed quietly from mother to child in just seven words.

That white mother could not fathom that Sasha, a biracial child with a Black mother, might be really good—as in very good, or truly good—at a traditionally white art form at which her child was presumably also quite proficient. She could not imagine that Sasha might deserve to be at that competition, might have qualified on her merit—her talent and skill and persistence—rather than because of what she might consider a misguided or even unjust attempt to diversify ballet by lowering standards. They’re not really good, but they are allowed to be here. In this space that is rightfully yours, in this art form that is rightfully yours. They’re never as good as the white girls, a sweeping generalization that grants no individuality, no humanity, to any nonwhite dancer. They’re all the same, and they never deserve to be here. But don’t worry. Your excellence is a given. You belong here, while their presence is conditional or even ill-gotten.

A few minutes later, Sasha took the stage and performed her solo. She ended up placing ahead of that white dancer.

From then on, Wilmara traveled with Sasha to every competition, paying the additional travel costs to make sure that, if something like that ever happened again, she’d be there to support her daughter.

“That has stuck with me,” she says. “And it’s one of the reasons I make the sacrifice and I go with her everywhere. Even if there are others going, I feel like I need to be around should comments like that pop up. I just don’t feel like I can take that chance, you know? And what cracks me up is that . . . she doesn’t even look as dark as I do, which makes me feel like, ‘Oh my God, if you were darker, like, what else?’ ”

Sasha grew up in a suburb of Indianapolis and is now 16. She trains at the Royal Ballet School in London, an exclusive training ground that serves as a feeder school for the Royal Ballet. It’s widely acknowledged to be one of the best ballet schools in the world.

Wilmara says that people often express their surprise at the quality of Sasha’s training and technique. “Oh wow, you’re really good,” Wilmara says by way of example. “Where do you train? Have you been dancing for a long time?” She says that while she tries to give these white people the benefit of the doubt, she knows what they usually mean, and she’d prefer they just come out and say it: “I’m surprised you’re that good. You’re Black and you’re dancing and you’re good.”

Now that Sasha is a little older, Wilmara talks to her about the racist assumptions embedded in those surprised comments. “You know she’s asking because she doesn’t think a person of your color can do this,” she’s told Sasha, who now “gets it when she hears that tone of voice.”

And, she says, she’s been frank with her daughter about the kind of resistance she should expect from the overwhelmingly white ballet establishment if she keeps excelling—which she shows every sign of doing.

It’s moms who do the bulk of the work of ballet parenting: the sewing of costumes, the schedule keeping for rehearsals and recitals. And when you’re a ballet mom to a dancer of color, there’s an even higher price to pay.

“Not everybody’s gonna be thrilled,” Wilmara says, paraphrasing her conversations with Sasha. “Even if you’re not a dancer of color, it’s cutthroat. And on top of that, you are a dancer of color, and so that poses another threat in some ways. So you have to be mindful of your things and what you are doing, and know what things are okay, and [pay attention to] when you are uncomfortable.”

This emotional labor, the work of helping young dancers understand what “that tone of voice” means and why it’s being used—or the work of deciding whether to tell your child about the racist remark you just overheard or absorb it yourself and shield them from it—is a part of parenting not demanded of mothers of white dancers.

Then there’s the payment in time and money required of Wilmara to make sure that Sasha’s ballet experience is as fair and worry-free as possible. Once, at a competition, Wilmara forgot to color in the “nude” pale pink straps on one of Sasha’s competition costumes. Wilmara scrambled to find brown foundation because none of the vendors at the competition had a leotard in Sasha’s skin color.

“Come on, people, you are here,” Wilmara remembers thinking. “There may not be that many [dancers of color], but they are all here and you should be able to bring various shades of nude leos.”

Succeeding in ballet, or even just surviving, requires extra talent, extra work, extra resilience, and extra sacrifices from dancers of color, especially Black and brown dancers, and their parents. White ballet moms might have to talk to their white daughters about how cutthroat ballet is. But they don’t need to issue additional warnings about how a white girl’s success will be received by that cutthroat culture, because almost all the successful girls and women in ballet are white.

“They’ve had to grow up a lot faster,” Wilmara says of Black and brown ballet dancers. “I think the ballet world makes you grow up a lot faster, but on top of that,” there are the “extra hurdles that other dancers don’t have to think about.” There are the overtly racist comments backstage before a performance and the subtly racist “compliments” after. There is time spent frantically searching for the right leotard or adapting the default pink leotard. There is the knowledge, internalized first by parents and then by their kids, that if you make it over all those hurdles your success will be viewed with suspicion and resentment—that ballet does not have a “diversity” problem; it has a white supremacy problem.

“Our kids,” Wilmara says, “are thinking about this and thinking about it early on.”

The organizing principle of ballet—of training, of performance, of making a ballet body—is control. Control of your rigid torso while your foot shoots upward from the hip in a battement. Control of a silent and compliant class of otherwise giggly 9-year-old girls. “The traditional and classical Europeanist aesthetic for the dancing body is dominated and ruled by the erect spine,” wrote dance scholar Brenda Dixon Gottschild in her landmark book The Black Dancing Body. “Verticality is a prime value, with the torso held erect, knees straight, body in vertical alignment. . . . The torso is held still.”

It all demands control. Control of your smiling face as your feet scream in your pointe shoes at the end of a long pas de deux. Control of your weight, of your turnout, of your stretched and strengthened feet that now arch into a shape no ordinary foot can make. “The ballet audience, attuned and habituated to view control as a prime value, applaud its display and are embarrassed when it isn’t fulfilled,” Gottschild wrote.

Discipline, order, adherence to strict and unquestioned rules. That’s what ballet is. When Gottschild asked Seán Curran, a white dancer and choreographer who performed with the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Company, what he pictured when he thought of white dance or white dancing bodies, he said, “Upright. . . . For some reason, ‘proper’ stuck in the head a bit, something that is built and made and constructed rather than is free or flows.” A body that is rigid, obedient, and disciplined, remade from something natural and unruly into something refined and well behaved. Proper. “Whiteness,” Curran said, “values precision and unison.”

Curran’s assessment identifies a central underlying prejudice of white supremacy: the belief that people of color, and their bodies, are wild. Uncivilized, animalistic, subhuman. That white people—who, by contrast, are assumed to be organized and civilized—have both a right and a responsibility to tame that which is untamed and impose order, precision, and unison on it. To suppress and control that which is savage; to press it into something that approaches whiteness but will never be truly white and thus never truly equal.

This is the logic that underpinned white colonization and American slavery. It is also the logic that makes racial segregation possible: that which is pure and organized must be kept separate from that which is profane and undisciplined. And central to this worldview is the idea that the work of white supremacy is unending, not because white supremacy is flawed, but because the very people it seeks to suppress are inherently inferior, naturally incapable of complying. Because of some inborn lack—of will, of understanding, of discipline—people of color will never fully obey, never properly assimilate, never be redeemed by whiteness. In this way, white supremacy perpetuates itself, justifying both its worldview and the permanent need for its existence.

It’s little wonder, then, that ballet—with its fixation on control, discipline, and uprightness—wraps itself so neatly around whiteness. It makes sense that white Americans, reared on the belief that whiteness is synonymous with order and refinement, also believe that people of color have no place, or a limited place, or a conditional place, in classical ballet.

Furthermore, it is easy to see how the ideal ballet body—so controlled, so upright—is everything that white supremacy imagines a Black body is not. And because of deeply ingrained American cultural associations with musculature, loose movement, brute force, and untamed sexuality, the Black body is believed to be everything a ballet body is not permitted to be.

“When we talk about the ballerina,” says Theresa Ruth Howard, a former dancer and a teacher, diversity strategist, and the founder and curator of the digital ballet history archive Memoirs of Blacks in Ballet (MoBBallet), “we’re talking about the ideal, our stereotype of the desirable woman, and that is reserved for white women.”

Howard has made a career of helping the people who run ballet companies and schools to examine their ideas about what makes for a “good” ballet body, asking them to question their biases about the inherent fitness of white bodies and unfitness of other bodies, especially Black bodies. She says that long-standing racist tropes about Black women’s bodies make Blackness and ballerinas seem antithetical.

“You have the trope of either the jezebel, the mammy, or the workhorse of the Black woman,” which are incompatible with desirability, fragility, and sexual purity, the ideal of white womanhood at the heart of the ballerina’s appeal.

“She’s desired. It’s the epitome of beauty, of grace, of elegance, and these are not adjectives that are assigned to Black women,” Howard says. “Especially not darker-skinned Black women. This is why the closer you look to the white European aesthetic as a Black woman, the better chance you have at occupying that role. Especially at a higher level.”

Despite the long tradition of Latin American dancers carving out successful professional careers in the U.S. and the enormous success of Misty Copeland—a light-skinned Black dancer whose ascent to the pinnacle of American ballet was a watershed moment for Black dancers and audiences alike—the archetypal ballerina is still a pale-skinned white woman with slender limbs, negligible breasts and hips, and long, sleek hair. In the American cultural imagination, the ballerina is still white.

George Balanchine famously said that “ballet is woman,” but that’s not the whole truth. Ballet is white woman, or, perhaps more precisely, white womanhood. Ballet is a stronghold of white womanhood, a place where whiteness is the default and white femininity reigns supreme.

Excerpted from Turning Pointe: How a New Generation of Dancers Is Saving Ballet from Itself by Chloe Angyal. Copyright © 2021. Available from Bold Type Books, an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

[robininthelabyrinth]

I love your Nie brothers content, all of it, but there is so little written about the friendship between Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian! We know they were friends in Cloud Recesses, but it's never explored how these genius guys, even if one is focused on magical inovations and the other on strategy and politics, got on. Something which shows how well they got each other would be great

1

Wei Wuxian’s fist trembled. How dare he – worthless peacock – my shijie..!

But before he could throw a punch, he saw a swirl of white – Lan Wangji, sweeping forward with a face like a graveyard, and Nie Huaisang cringing in his shadow – and suddenly he realized that he didn’t need to punch Jin Zixuan.

Speaking of others behind their backs is forbidden.

Sneering without reason is forbidden.

Arrogance is forbidden.

Do not be haughty and complacent.

Do not praise yourself and slander others.

Do not make assumptions about others.

Do not insult people.

Do not take your words lightly.

Wei Wuxian grinned with teeth. “Hey, Lan Zhan!” he sang out, and Jin Zixuan blanched. “Perfect timing!”

Later, after he’d laughed himself sick at Jin Zixuan’s punishment – humiliatingly perfect – and making his appreciation very clear to Lan Wangji, he went to go find Nie Huaisang.

“When did you go get Lan Zhan?” he asked, honestly curious. He hadn’t known he was going to get into a fight until he was there and it was happening, but Nie Huaisang, of all people, had apparently figured out what was going to happen before it happened and took steps to fix it.

“The second they started talking about girls,” Nie Huaisang said promptly. “It’s fairly obvious that Jin Zixuan is resentful of his parents managing his life and he’s lashing out at everything, including specifically your shijie, so a nasty comment was inevitable.”

Wei Wuxian blinked, derailed from his original line of questioning. “He – what? Wait, that’s why he’s so rude about my shijie?”

“Of course,” Nie Huaisang said, blinking back at him. “What did you think? That he just didn’t like her? He’s barely even met her.”

Wei Wuxian hadn’t thought about that way, but it made a certain amount of sense. “When did you get so good at reading people?” he asked, bemused. “I didn’t…uh…”

“Think I have any skills?”

Wei Wuxian coughed.

“I don’t!” Nie Huaisang beamed, clearly very proud of it. “But I do have a lot of expensive hobbies, and that means I need pocket money.”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure he understood the connection, and said as much.

Nie Huaisang laughed at him. “The Nie sect believes in self-sufficiency,” he explained. “My brother gives me a certain amount of money to spend, sure, but we’re not the Jin sect; I can’t just buy everything that I lay my eyes on and send the bill back home – my brother would break my legs! I’m expected to find a way to increase the money I get until it’s enough to cover both my needs and wants, necessities and luxuries both, and if I can’t, then I have to do without luxuries.”

Nie Huaisang has never, not once, in the entire few months Wei Wuxian spent in his company, done without luxuries.

“So,” Wei Wuxian said, feeling oddly unnerved and unsure why, “you learned how to read people because you want to act like…a merchant?”

Nie Huaisang lightly tapped his head with his fan, rolling his eyes at him. “Stop being such a landed gentry young master, Wei-xiong. There’s nothing wrong with trade! How much of your sect’s money comes from merchants interested in keeping their trade routes free of resentful energy?”

Wei Wuxian wrinkled his nose a little. “That’s cheapening it a bit, don’t you think? As cultivators, it’s our duty to stand up as heroes, to defend the innocent and defeat evil, to purify –”

“Right, right. Remind me again how the Jiang sect pays for all that pretty purple?”

“Well…I mean…”

Technically, yes, there were all the dye sellers and the fabric merchants, but…

Nie Huaisang was laughing at him.

“Don’t worry about it, Wei-xiong,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You stick to doing your own thing. If you ever need to sell anything, come to me.”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian said, privately thinking to himself that he’d rather farm for crops than become a seller hawking his goods in the marketplace. “Hey, wait, what is it that you sell, anyway?”

Nie Huaisang sniggered and refused to tell him.

2

It was porn.

Also barbeque and liquor, although in that case Nie Huaisang mostly played the middleman between the vendors of Caiyi Town and the students stuck eating Lan vegetables.

Sometimes he could even be convinced to tug on his contacts for other things, too.

“You’re a true friend,” Wei Wuxian said, clutching the bottle of chili sauce to his chest. “A true and wonderful friend.”

“You still have to pay,” Nie Huaisang said, his eyes curving up behind his fan. “No discounts.”

“A ruthless, vicious, cut-throat friend…”

“I lend you the porn for free, don’t I?

“Wonderful! Wonderful friend!”

3

No matter what Jiang Cheng said, Wei Wuxian was trying to keep his head down during their time at the indoctrination camp. He was taking this whole thing very seriously: he wasn’t making a fuss (too much), he wasn’t being insulting (too much), he wasn’t even socializing (too much).

Lan Wangji didn’t count, anyway; after what had happened to him, he needed someone bothering him.

But Wei Wuxian was being good and keeping back from the rest!

Well, he was, except then he saw Nie Huaisang and just had to go over to say hello. It was only polite, and had nothing to do with the fact that during the months he spent at the Cloud Recesses, he’d learned that Nie Huaisang could sell anyone on anything.

“I don’t suppose you have contacts that will sell you barbeque here,” Wei Wuxian said as a greeting, because the food they’d received was frankly disgusting in a way that made him wistful for the Lan sect like it had been a gourmet restaurant.

“Well,” Nie Huaisang hedged, and Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t get too excited, it’s not barbeque…”

It was meat, though, chunks of that had probably been roasted as skewers at one point, and Wei Wuxian didn’t even care that it was cold as he scarfed it down, immediately feeling ten times better than he’d been before.

“Where?” he asked. “How?”

“There’ll be a surprise inspection tomorrow morning,” Nie Huaisang said instead. “Keep your head down, they’re looking to make an example out of somebody.”

“How do you know that?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “I brought art.”

“To the indoctrination camp?”

“Wen soldiers get lonely and bored too, Wei-xiong.”

“You’re trading for information using porn?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m trading porn for meat, and getting the information while we’re chatting. A large number of the Wen sect cultivators used to be their own sects, you know, before they were absorbed, and not all of them are happy about what’s going on here. You just have to figure out who the loyalists are, avoid them, and focus on the rest, and it’s easy.”

“I still can’t believe you brought porn to the Wen sect,” Wei Wuxian said, shaking his head. “What’ll you do if your brother finds out?”

“You’re joking, right? He helped me pack it.”

Wei Wuxian will never understand the Nie sect.

4

Wei Wuxian stared wordlessly at his bowl.

There was a single slice of radish in it.

“Is this a joke?” he asked Wen Qing, because it might be, and she glared at him, meaning that no, it was not. “Don’t we have anything else?”

“With what money, Wen-gongzi? Do you think it comes from thin air?”

“I had a friend once who could make it come out of thin air,” he grumbled, looking down at his bowl. He’d practiced inedia, he didn’t need it, except for the fact that he really, really did. Not having a golden core made things hard. “He could’ve sold fish to fishermen, except he mostly just sold porn.”

Wen Qing rolled her eyes at him. “Wonderful story, Wei-gongzi. Positively heartwarming. But unless your old erotic art dealer is going to come to Yiling to help us sell some radishes, I don’t care.”

Naturally, that was impossible. Wei Wuxian was a villain now, his name blackened, the whole cultivation world against him –

Actually, as far as he could tell, the Nie sect didn’t seem to give a damn about him one way or another. From all the stories Nie Huaisang had told about his brother and from everything he’d seen in the war, Nie Mingjue wasn’t the sort of person to let evil sit around on a mountain while he was busy with other things – if he objected, he’d be there the next day with his saber, ready to put him in his place.

He hadn’t, obviously.

His hatred of the Wen sect was pretty well-known, but he’d taken no action at all to invade Yiling and demand that Wei Wuxian hand them over, and Wei Wuxian was mostly sure that it wasn’t because he was scared of what Wei Wuxian could do with the Stygian Tiger Seal.

…it was probably just the hunger getting to him and making him think crazy things. Not caring enough to go against him was pretty far from supporting him, after all.

But, hey, he wouldn’t be risking anything if he just wrote a tiny little letter asking Nie Huaisang for some advice on selling things, right?

I never thought I’d see the day my Wei-xiong finally became a merchant, the return letter said. I’ll be there in three days. I expect to see liquor.

Wei Wuxian took Wen Ning down the mountain and stood on his shoulders in order to emancipate a jar from the local tavern, but by the time Nie Huaisang arrived, there was, in fact, liquor.

Even Wen Qing – who had opposed the entire outing once she had heard about it upon their return – suddenly thought it was a perfectly reasonable sort of theft when Nie Huaisang offered to trade a giant crate full of meat for it.

“We had some leftovers from a boar hunt,” Nie Huaisang said mournfully, accepting the liquor and a bowl of radishes. “I need variety, Wei-gongzi, it’s terrible. You have to help me get rid of it; I can’t stand to look at it any longer.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Wei Wuxian reminded him in between glorious bites of pork. He was going to be a very good friend and do his best to ensure that Nie Huaisang’s request was fulfilled, even if it meant taking seconds and possibly thirds. “I asked for advice, not a visit.”

“You can’t expect me to put my good name on what could be inferior goods,” Nie Huaisang sniffed.

“Your good name? The one known for porn, you mean?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at him. “So show me what you have to sell.”

“It’s mostly just the radishes,” Wei Wuxian said. “I tried to tell Wen Qing that we should plant potatoes, but –”

“Forget the radishes,” Nie Huaisang said. “What’s this I hear about you designing a compass that pinpoints resentful energy?”

“Oh, that?” Wei Wuxian said, blinking. “Yeah, I made one of those – the Burial Mounds is the biggest source of resentful energy around, and it’s easier to have a compass that points home instead of north, you know? But what does that have to do with selling radishes?”

“Wei-xiong, you’re hopeless. Leave it all to me, and you’ll have your sect up and running in no time.”

“Yeah, that would be – wait, sect? What sect?”

“Actually,” Nie Huaisang said, tapping his fan against his cheek. He was just plain old ignoring Wei Wuxian now, which, hey! “I take it back – before you leave everything to me, show me what other ideas you’ve been cooking up. What about those talismans you used during the war? The spirit-drawing ones?”

“Spirit summoning,” Wei Wuxian corrected.

“Yes, those. Have you improved on those at all?”

“Uh, I mean, I guess…”

“Good. Show me everything.”

5

“So I have a sect now,” Wei Wuxian told Lan Wangji, who had come to visit. “We sell things to support it. Apparently.”

Lan Wangji nodded, apparently already aware of this. “The clan elders have agreed that using your flags to draw fierce corpses and other creatures away from areas with innocent human lives is an acceptable use.”

“Even the Lan sect?” Wei Wuxian marveled. “No wonder we’re making so much money.”

Then he sighed.

Lan Wangji looked questioningly at him.

“Well, I have a sect now,” Wei Wuxian said. “Everyone’s expecting me to – you know. Form the core of the sect.”

“Marry,” Lan Wangji concluded. Possibly advised? No, that didn’t sound like he was urging him to go ahead, which made a total of one person. “You do not have to if you do not wish. You already have an heir.”

“A-Yuan’s too young to be a proper heir,” Wei Wuxian objected, though he was secretly gleeful that people were generally accepting him as one. “And obviously I can’t just pick anyone; how will I know if they’re a spy? Or if they’ll secretly dislike A-Yuan?” He sighed again. “The worst part is, I think Nie Huaisang is plotting against me, too.”

“Plotting?”

“Yeah! He’s encouraging people to ask me about marriage, when clearly it’s better for me to stay off the market…what about you, Lan Zhan? Are you planning on marrying?”

“No,” Lan Wangji said.

“We’ll be a bunch of old bachelors, then,” Wei Wuxian said. “You should come more often, A-Yuan loves you…hey! I have a great idea! Why don’t we get married? Then no one will bother us ever again!”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said.

“Mm? What does that mean?”

“It means I will need to send Nie Huaisang his payment in the morning,” Lan Wangji said, and moved to sit next to Wei Wuxian.

“Payment? You bought something from him? What did you want to –”

Lan Wangji silenced him pretty effectively, no spell necessary, and by the time Wei Wuxian retained enough ability to think through what exactly the purchase must have been, he’d already been converted to thinking that it was a very intelligent purchase to make.

Nie Huaisang really could sell anything.

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 40

((scene transitions continue to be my weakness...))

Even with Nyota’s most skillful piloting, the asteroid field at the edge of the star system loomed dense, dark, and impenetrable. She brought the ship as close as she dared, Lumen standing close at hand and watching her coax the ship just within safe reason.

“Ain’t no way this ol’ gal’s gettin’ through that, Captain,” Lumen said with a quiet metallic drone, almost a sigh. “Rock as far as the eye can see. If I had eyes, I s’pose.” He’d started to pick up a few idioms from the organic beings on the ship, to everyone’s amused confusion.

“I know. I just wanted to see for myself what we would be up against.” Nyota dismissed the navigation hologram with a wave of her hand and strode over to the window. Even with SAIL’s assistance sharpening the images, it was almost too dark for her eyes. Almost.

Lumen droned again, deeper and sharper. “Ya say that like them rocks out there are hostile.”

“Not the rocks.” She gestured for him to come closer and pointed at the nearest asteroid. “Look.”

Lumen leaned in close, then jerked back as his brand hit the glass with a sharp clink. “Jumpin’ jackrabbits, Sonny keeps this window too darn clean,” he crackled, hand clapped to his brand. “Yer gonna have to tell me what ya see, Captain, all I’m seein’ is stars.”

Nyota steadied him. “Are you alright?”

He attempted to wave her off, in the wrong direction. “Yeah, fine, jus’ give me a sec. Go on, don’t leave me hangin’.”

She frowned, but accepted dismissal. “I see a number of creatures flying around it. Some look mechanical in origin. Others… I can only call that one a living meteor of some kind.”

Lumen whistled. “Blue crystal? Creepy faces?”

She looked at him sharply. “How did you—”

Another wave. “Used to get them all the time outside a saloon I worked in before I hit Mars. Watch out if ya get in a fight. The big ‘uns split into little rocks that’re twice as fast and just as nasty.”

Nyota nodded slowly, tugged a sidelock, thinking. “I see. Something else to watch out for.” She turned on her heel and called up the navigation hologram again. “Tell the crew to prepare for FTL jump. We’re going back to the Outpost. And please tell Hadley she’ll be coming with me. I need someone who knows how penguins work.”

--

“You know, I never quite get tired of this place.” Hadley tucked her hands behind her head, following a fair distance behind Nyota. Her captain didn’t really like people right behind her, and Hadley had sparred with her enough times now to know she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a hit-for-real, accidental or not. It wasn’t too hard, this time. The bustle wasn’t as bad as some of the cities she’d visited, just a few dozen residents going about their lives before any tourists turned up. Wonder if this back alley meteor even gets tourists.

Nyota glanced back with an amused smile. “Is it the cheerful vendors or the variety of pockets to pick?”

Hadley smirked right back. “Come on now, you know Sonny’s the better pickpocket, right?”

“She is. Now give me back my notes.”

Hadley sighed theatrically and returned the palm-sized notebook to Nyota’s waiting hand. “You’re no fun at all.”

“That’s right.” To Hadley’s surprise, Nyota was still smiling. She had expected the captain to be angry, with how protective she got about her secrets. “So, did you learn anything useful?”

Oh. That was why she was smiling—she was laughing at Hadley. “Of course I didn’t,” Hadley grumbled. “It’s some kind of gibberish. Were you on a second cup of coffee when you wrote it or what?”

There was the actual laugh, but… not mocking? Nyota’s eyes creased with her gentle chuckle. “And here I thought you liked ciphers.” She tucked herself into a cozy nook, gestured for Hadley to join her, and showed her the notebook again. “Take a closer look.”

For once, Hadley did as she was told. She was too curious at her captain’s unusual behavior to push any buttons this time. “No, I’m not seeing it,” she said after a minute. “I mean, the letters are familiar. You’re using a human alphabet, right? But that’s about all I’ve got.”

“It’s shorthand. I used to use it to take down notes and orders. Apex Standard, though probably not the current standard.” Nyota ran a hand through the fur along her jaw. “They do include updates every five years.”

“Wait.” Hadley snatched the notebook and held up a finger to stop the explanation. She held it close then looked up and glared at Nyota with something between frustration and what she would never admit was respect. “You’re telling me that you made up this new code by transcribing Apex Shorthand into human letters?”

There was an almost helpless note to Nyota’s quiet laugh. “It made sense at the time.”

Hadley stared at her. She’d known Nyota for months now, but this was like meeting her all over again. “You’re going to teach me,” she demanded. Nyota’s smile sent a flash of confused warmth through her.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have told you the trick if I didn’t mean to,” Nyota said, and reclaimed her book.

The words tickled something inside Hadley. She knew her captain was fierce and tough; any boss had to be, just like Ma and the lieutenants back home. Hell, she’d learned first-hand how sharp Nyota could be. Her hand rubbed the old solarium burn scar on the side of her neck without thinking, mind wandering to the flash of orange blade embedded right beside her neck.

But then there were the sparring matches—Nyota had never tried to scare her in one. Even when Hadley did something stupid and reckless to try and get a rise. Nyota just took it or knocked her flat and talked her through how to do it better. Like she was… teaching. And now. Hadley shook her head. This wasn’t how a leader acted. …was it?

Hadley opened her mouth to ask, froze, and grabbed Nyota’s arm. She hauled the big apex back out of the way in a burst of alarmed strength. Her sword was drawn almost before the startled cry left Nyota’s lips.

“Hadley, what—”

“You keep behind me, Captain,” Hadley warned. In front of them, a stranger watched them in silence, red eyes gleaming under a heavy purple cloak. Hadley didn’t know what this thing was, but like hell was it going to hurt her captain.

[nyasiaaaaa]

The Little things

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: established relationship, shooting, angst, Smut (18+), spanking, Dom/Sub, oral sex ( m and f receiving) P in V, fingering ( f receiving), spitting, use of good girl ( once), breeding kink if you squint, Fluff, helmet-less Din ( he only wears it when he’s outside), tw eating

A/N: First time writing smut and first time writing for a Pedro character. For @its--fandom--darling 1k follower celebration!!! Thank you @absurdthirst for all your help. Thank you @aripariii for looking over this.


You throw your head back in frustration as you contemplate giving up feeding the kid. You had been trying to feed him vegetables for the past week. Every time you wanted to feed him some smashed peas with a spoon, he would use the force to push it into your mouth. You lift your head as you take a deep breath, ready to try again when Din walks in and throws jerky on the table for the kid. You look at Din in disbelief before getting up to clean the mess while you let the kid eat.

“I’ll be back in a few; this shouldn’t take long,” Din announced as he stood in place, scanning the room for his blaster.

“You missing something,” you asked, hopping on one of the crates looking over at him with a mischievous smile 

“Give it,” he grumbled out, walking up to you holding his hand out

“Give what,” you questioned as you tilted your head. “Give this,” you smiled, pulling out his blaster.

Din tried to reach for it as you pulled back “nope, let’s make a deal.”

“I don’t have time for games, cyar’ika,” he replied trying to convince you to give it up.

“Then let’s not play any. I’ll give you your blaster if you quit giving the kid what he wants when I’m trying to give him a balanced diet, ok.” 

“Ok,” he agrees to take the blaster from your hand. 

“Also, you don’t have to rush back for lunch; just make sure you are here for dinner” he gave you a nod in response as he fished, packing up his things.

You pick the kid up and dust him over, carrying him over to Din so he could say bye. Din looked down at his son and ruffled his head before looking at you. He bent down, placing his cold beskar helmet against your head. He didn’t need to say anything you already knew and vise versa. Din straightened up and walked towards the ramp before typing in buttons and letting it down. 

As Din was walking away, he stopped to remind you for the millionth time, “cyar’ika, don’t leave the ship, this is one of the most dangerous plants and-“

“I know you’ve told me all this before. I won’t leave me. The kid and I are going to chill here and watch cartoons or something,” you told him, interrupting his repetitive speech.

He stood there hesitantly, debating in his head before choosing to just walk down the ramp and away. You guys never did that stop and turn around things you’ve seen in movies; there was no need to. He was always going to come back; he had promised you. 

As soon as the Din was far away enough, you closed the ramp and started getting ready to leave. Dins birthday is coming up, and you’re trying to make him a chocolate cake. In one of your late-night pillow talks, you asked Din what he remembers from his childhood before the Mandalorian, he replies that he doesn’t remember a lot. What he does remember is how every year, for his birthday, his mom would make him a chocolate cake. It was the best thing he has ever eaten in his life, well, the second-best thing he adds a few seconds later. 

Since then, you have been collecting all the ingredients you need to make the cake over the next couple of weeks. You have everything but cocoa powder, the most crucial ingredient. You’ve looked everywhere, every plant, every website you couldn’t find it anywhere else but this plant. 

You don’t want to go against what Din has asked you, especially because you said you wouldn’t. Still, you just wanted to do something special for him, for his birthday, because he deserved it. After all, he had done for you, you wanted to do something for him even if others might consider it a little thing you knew it would mean a lot to Din.

 For example a few months ago, you tried to make sure Din started enjoying his meals more and eating meals more frequently. You did this by eating together like a clan Breakfast, Lunch, and dinner. You and Din sit next to each other at the small table you had built together, the kid in his high chair. Din had to adjust to it but never complained. He even started to look forward to it, rushing back to the ship sometimes after a bounty to make it in time for lunch or dinner.  

You smiled, thinking fondly of the memories you’ve created with your clan over the past months as you started getting ready to leave. As you’re finishing up and was about to leave, you activate the droid; you have to watch the kid. This droid you had found in a past mission but never had a reason to fix it until now. You had been working on it the ship during flight and while Din was away on hunts. 

When Din had asked you about the droid, you said you were programming the IG-11 to help clean around the ship. Din had been uncertain because of its killing background but ended up letting it go. You had lied though, you had kept the Droids programming and just added few changes to it. The changes were that when you left, its mission was to protect the child and take care of all its needs. It was to kill anyone or thing that came onto the ship unless it was you, Din, or the kid. 

The little white lie was never a problem either because you only activated the droid when you and Din were out to watch the kid, and you always made sure to come back to the ship before Din to deactivate it, plus Din never questioned why he’d never seen the droid in “action.” 

You set out to the local market nearby, where you were hoping to find the last ingredient so you could make the cake. Since you started a little late today and this is one of the most dangerous plants in the galaxy, you walked a bit faster than usual. The quicker you walked, the more excited you got. You were about to be done getting all the supplies to make the cake, just in time, because Dins birthday was in a couple of weeks. As you neared the market, you prayed to Maker that the thing you’re risking your life over was going to be here. You were incredibly proud of yourself for keeping this a secret from Din without him suspecting a thing.

***********

Din had tracked his bounty to a bar nearby; as he neared the bar, he could hear the noise of people inside. As soon as he stepped foot into the bar, it went silent, some people shaking in fear, others puffing their chest out and rising onto the balls of their feet slightly. Din looked around the bar; it wasn’t a bad bar. It just wasn’t the nicest. 

The same color brown wood was throughout, green bar stools, plastic lawns chairs, mice having a party in every corner. Also, the floor was sticky; he could feel it with every step he took, he would have to use a little more effort than usual to lift his foot up, and you could hear it in every step. Din hadn’t spotted his bounty during his initial scan of the room, so he turned to the bartender to ask if he had seen the bounty. The bartender wasted no time and pointed to the backroom as he kept his head down. Din reaches the backroom and sees a smaller room same design and layout as the front with four men playing poker and three bodyguards. Dins usually not a man of words, but he doesn’t really feel like fighting today, so he tells them, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

 One guard rushes towards Din and tries to grab him, but Din is quicker; he pulls a blaster and shoots a bodyguard in the chest. He starts getting attacked by two of the bodyguards but takes them out with ease. After the last bodyguard fell to the floor, he heard footsteps pounding against the floor, then pressure is applied to his back, one of the poker players had jumped on him. Din falls backward, crushing the person underneath him; he then quickly rolls over, props himself on one knee, and pulls his blaster to shoot the guy. Din then whips his gun around to the other side of the room to find two people standing there shaking with their hands up, neither of them his bounty. Din snaps his head in the direction of the door he came in as he hears the bell ring that’s placed above the door. He pushes himself off the ground and starts chasing after the man.

*************

You had to go to three different vendors in the market, but you finally found the cocoa powder you were looking for, the lady dared to charge you three times its worth, but you didn’t care anything for Din. You had to wander deep into the market to find the cocoa, so on your way out, you were doing a slight jog. You had hoped you were making good time and would make it back in time, but you had no way of knowing for sure.

***************

Din is chasing after the guy, and he’s so close the guy knows this too. The bounty suddenly stops in the middle of a crowd; he pulls out a blaster and waves it. Sounds of shock and fear echoed threw out the public. Din steps forward to get the guy he needs alive; the man suddenly looks around frantically, pulls the closest person to him, and puts a gun to their head. It was you. The bounty had put the gun to your head. Din’s mind blanks. He has no other thoughts besides getting to you; he doesn’t care if the bounty is for him brought in cold. The bounty had touched what’s his. 

Din quickly pulls his blaster ready to fire when suddenly you pull forward, folding over as you push down on your toes; you then spring up, moving your head back to strike the man’s head. The man then stumbles backward from the sudden impact. Din is quick to act as he runs towards the man and then shoots the man in his arm, the man falls to the ground, and Din proceeds to lift the man up and place him in handcuffs. 

Din turns towards you to scan your body as he looks for any injuries. His beskar covered face then looks up towards you as he asks, “hurt,” and you proceed to shake your head no. Before you can ask if he’s hurt, he grabs your arm and pushes you in front of him, signaling to walk. You do walk as he follows, dragging the bounty behind him. 

The journey back to the ship was quiet, too quiet even the bounty tried to speak on the tensions, “struggle in paradise, eh.” 

Din pressed his finger into his wound for that one.

You’d been so distracted by the event that happened you had forgotten about the droid, but it was too late. Din had already typed in the code, and the ramp was coming down. 

This was the first time, the one time Din wasn’t the faster person in the room; by the time Din pulled his blaster out, it was too late. It all happened in a blink of an eye. The bounty was dead. The droid shot him. 

You were nervous, it’s not like you were in desperate need of the credits, but the money could have help, and you know Din just went through a lot to get him.

“The child is safe, would you li-“IG-11 started before Din shot him. You were about to complain, but then you remember the situation you were in.

You stood in silence for a couple of minutes before deciding to look at Din only to find him staring at you. You turned your head away so quick that pain in your neck started to arise. “Din I-I-I’m so so sorry this is all my fault, I’ll take the blame, ok. Just tell Greef Karga, ok. Can he be brought in dead? I mean, it’s not a big deal, y-y-you’ve done it before. Greef Karga will s-still a-a-a-accept it right …. RIGHT!”

Din didn’t utter a word as he dragged the body onto the ship; he put the body into carbon freeze and closed the ramp. Then he just stood there. He didn’t move an inch. The tension in the air was so thick, you could even breathe properly. You knew this was your time to leave him alone. Earlier, you had noticed that the kid wasn’t in IG-11s arms, so you were planning on looking for him, assuming that he had been put to sleep because this was around his nap time.

“Ok, so I see that you need alone time; I’m just going to find the kid and take care of him,” you said as you turned to go look for him.

You didn’t even get to do a complete 180 before Din grabbed onto your wrist and twisted it, pulling your body closer to him. You could hear the hard deep breaths he was taking as he stared right into your soul.

“Why,” he whispered out, hurt invoice.

 “I-I-I,” you tried to speak, your eyes moving back and forth as you tried to find his.

“Why would you be so stupid? I told you not to leave, I told you this place was dangerous. You didn’t listen, why can’t you ever just listen.” He snapped at you, saying every word with a tremble. He let you go and started to walk away from dragging his feet across the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, your eyes watering up, tears threatening to fall.

 Your words had made him stop dead in his tracks. “Are you” he questions as he walks towards you. Each step he took towards you, you took one back till your back hit the wall. You were nervous but weren’t afraid, you knew Din would never hurt you, but you still didn’t like to be around him when he got like this. 

“WHAT WAS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU RISKED YOUR LIFE FOR? DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND THAT YOU COULD HAVE DIED TODAY? DO YOU EVEN CARE?”

You did understand how sideways things could have gone, and you were trying to tell him that, but the words kept getting caught in your throat. So you ended up just slowly shaking your head in agreement.

“Are you sure cause you don’t seem like it? What about that FUCKING droid? You lied to me; why would you do that? You already know how I feel about them, so why would you do that. And to leave THE KID with it. I hope whatever you got was worth it. Just do what I brought you here for and watch the child,” he growled out as he walked away towards the cockpit so he could set our next coordinates. 

You stood there for a second shook but started to move to find the kid after the ship took off. He was in your old room, which you and Din turned into a toddler’s room after you moved into his. You picked the kid up and sat down in a rocking chair. You hugged the kid close to you as tears fell down your cheek. You were angry. Din had no right to talk to you like that. You messed up, you understand that, but to yell at you like he did have. Plus, you had risked your life for something for him. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t know it; he should know you better than to just assume that you would have intentionally risked your life for something stupid.

***********

 Din sat in his chair in the cockpit, feeling the weight of guilt immediately; the weight of his beskar couldn’t even compare to how heavy this felt. He felt awful; he regretted every word that came out of his mouth. He was just so angry; he had almost lost the only person he has ever cared about since his parents besides the kid. That was no excuse; he has had his fair share of screw-ups, the number of times he has almost gotten killed was too many to try to count on both hands.

 He took his helmet off and put his hands in his head. He was stressed after all the events that happened today, but he was most worried about what had just happened in the bay. He deliberated on going down there and apologizing to you but ultimately decided to give you your space and apologize later today. 

Din was going to apologize, he swore on Maker, but later that day, when he found you so he could apologize, you were sleeping in your old room. He was tempted to move you to the room you shared but then decide against it knowing you had fallen asleep in your old room for a reason. He slept in the cockpit that night; it didn’t feel right without you next to him. It’s funny Din spent most of his life alone; now he doesn’t even know how to sleep alone. 

The next day Din did honestly try to apologize to you, but every time he entered the same room as you were in, you got up and left. Din understood that you probably need space after the fourth time stepping into the same room as you and you walking out. Din decided that you probably needed one more day.

The next day came, and you still were leaving every room he came into. He was sad; he missed the family dinners and lunches, he couldn’t wait any longer, he decided to apologize to you as soon as possible.

Din stepped into the kitchen area around lunchtime; he knew you were cooking something that requires your full attention, so he knew you wouldn’t step away. 

“I’m-I’m sorry, I should have never yelled at you like that. I was angry because the bounty tried to run and then held you at gunpoint, he was touching what was mine, and I-I-I took it out on you. I should have never taken it out on you; I’m sure whatever you went out for was well worth it. I’m sorry, cyar’ika, ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Din waited there for something, anything, you didn’t say a single word. You instead finished up your cooking, turned the stove off, and proceeded to fix you and the child a plate before heading off to the cockpit to eat. 

Din stood there in shock; this is not how things usually go after an argument. Din stood there for a few minutes as he contemplated what to do next. Maybe he had said it wrong, he thought; Din hadn’t apologized a lot in his life, he could count how many times on one hand, and all those times he had been with you. All those times, you had also accepted it, so Din shook his head of the thought that he had said it wrong. He decided to give you another day to think about accepting his apology.

***********

A day turned into two, then three, next things Din knew, three weeks had passed. It had been complete silence for three whole weeks. Din was dying inside. He barely ate or slept; he missed you, everything about you, even things that seemed stupid. He missed the way your hair smelled, he missed the warmth of your body as he slept next to you, he missed your smile. Din has never been before addicted to something, but he will bet this is what it feels like to go through withdrawal.

He craved you mentally and physically; he had started waking up this past week on the verge of a nut. He always had the same dream to, he would apologize and you would accept. Then he would worship your body like never before, discovering new things about you, what turns you on and how flexible you really are. Each and every time right before he would nut, right when you give him permission to cum inside, he wakes up, every time like clockwork. 

*************

It was around lunchtime, and Din sat in the kitchen debating his next move. He needed you. He missed the way you guys used to be as a clan; just him and the kid alone wasn’t the same. He looked up and saw you putting the kid in a high chair and turning to the fridge, taking stuff out to make sandwiches. He laid back, watching you move around the kitchen. You had one of his shirts on with some shorts that you couldn’t see unless you reached up to get something that made your shirt rise. 

He watched as you bent over getting something out of the fridge, his dick twitched in his pants. He had been so deprived of you that anything you did got him hard; he grunted as he started to palm himself over his pants.

You had heard Din behind you, you smiled to yourself, you knew he was dying inside, you’d heard it every morning when he was rubbing one out. You honestly had stopped being mad like a week and a half ago. You just wanted to see how long Din could stay away from you; you really wanted to see how long till you had Din Djarin on his knees. 

You finished cooking and made some food for the kid and you, but instead of going up to the cockpit like you usually do, you ate in the kitchen. You decided to stand up to eat, leaning over the counter, back facing Din. You moaned with every bite you took, doing a little happy dance.

You had unknowingly confirmed to Din that you were no longer upset and were playing. He had suspected it but wasn’t sure; you would do things like get changed with the door open or take a shower with the door open. He saw those things and thought that you were ready to talk, but when he tried, you walked away. He had assumed that you weren’t ready and wasn’t doing those things on purpose. He knew now, though, that you were playing some type of game, a game he was about to end. 

You had finished eating and looked up to find the kid sleep in his chair. You took the kid and put him in his room so he could sleep in peace. You came back to the kitchen to clean up; you felt Din’s eyes on you everywhere you went. You walked over to the crates to put some things from the kitchen up, passing Din as you went. You had felt him before you saw him, his back pressed up against you. You could feel the heat radiating off his clothed body as he pressed up against you. You leaned in for a second before realizing what you were doing. You turned around, trying to leave, but Din stood in your way. You had no other choice but to look up at him and go along with whatever he was trying to do.

“What do you want, Din,” you asked 

“I was going to say I was sorry.”

“Well, apology not accepted,” you said quickly, cutting him off before he said another word.

“See cyar’ika keyword, was, “he replied looking at you with his brown eyes

“So what do you want now, Din,” you asked as you walked backward, eventually running out of space as your back hit the wall. You swallowed the lump in your throat and asked him again what he wanted.

He didn’t reply; instead, he reached up and took a finger drawing it from your collar bone to your chest; you shivered as he stared circling your covered nipple before pinching it.

“You,” he said 

 “What”

 “You had asked me what I wanted now, and my answer is you,” he replied.

You were about to question it when he brought his finger up to your lips to quiet you before bringing his hand down and up your shirt to play with your breast. He made a low groan in his throat when he realized that you weren’t wearing your band wrap.

“At first, I was mad that you had put yourself in danger. Then I was a little sad when you started dodging me; it really hurt when you didn’t respond to my apology,” he chuckled. You could hear the smirk in his voice. He lifted up your shirt up over your head. He placed his hands back on your breast and then pinched one of your nipples, making your head fall back as you moaned out loud. 

“Then you started playing games with me, messing my head all up. To blame you for playing this game would be wrong of me,” he said as he left you boobs, and his hand traveled up to wrap around your throat. Your body leaned into his touch, your hand reaching out to wrap around his wrist that was at your throat. 

His hand squeezed your throat tighter at your silent request as he pushed you back, bringing his head down to bite along your collars before mumbling against your skin, “I realized that it’s not your fault, I should have taught you better, and I will” he said and then quickly pulled away and grabbed a chair to sit down.

“What,” you asked, eyes popping out head. You were confused, but it was too late; Din had already pulled you over his lap. He had pulled down your shorts; he was excited to see that you were wearing a thong, so he left your underwear in place.

“Din, what are you doing?” you questioned as you shifted around on his lap, trying to get a better look at him.

“If you’re going to act like a little brat, then I’m going to treat you like a little brat,” he said as he processed to take his gloves off. 

“I will give you an equal amount of slaps on each cheek, and you will count each one out, ok, and safe word is cake, ok, “He asked as he messaged each cheek.

You shook your head as consent, “I need to hear a yes cyar’ika,” he said, giving you a little tap on your right cheek.

You yelped, surprised by the slight sting that followed that slap, and wondered how on Tatooine you were going to endure more, mainly because you and Din have never done something like this before. A slap or two while he hit it from behind, was the closest thing that had ever happened.

“Yes,” you were excited, you’d never seen this side of Din; you might even start messing with Din more often. 

Din was smiling; he always loved to try new things with you. He continued to run over each cheek for a few more seconds before he raised his hand and landed the first smack on your right cheek. 

“One” You choked out as he rubbed the cheek he just slapped. 

It was hard, and it stung, but there was something about it that turned you on. 

Din lifted up his hand before smack the left cheek “two,” you tried to suppress your moan. You were kinda embraced at the fact you were getting turned on from this.

When Dins hand landed on your right cheek again for the second time, you moaned loudly as you said the number three. Din smiled at that; he was happy you were enjoying this new thing. Din continued to tear your ass up, each slap hurting more than the last. You were getting wetter with each one to the point where your wetness started to drip down your leg, your underwear no longer keeping it in as it was soaked.

You were preparing to feel a sting on your left cheek for the last slap. Instead, Din pushed you off his lap and set you onto the floor. You laid there confused as he spread your legs open and took your thong off. He got on the side of you and leaned down to kiss you. Your lips captured his in a passionate kiss. You were distracted as Din slipped his tongue into your mouth, so you didn’t see it coming. He had raised his hand and slapped your pussy. You throw your head back as you moan, tears streaming down your face from the intensity of the sudden, overwhelming rush of pleasure. 

You shot up before going back down as you raised your hip as he started to rub circles on your clit. He reached down, placing kisses along your neck up and down your neck to your collarbone and back up. He took your ear lobe and brought it into his mouth, pulling on it before letting it go.

These slow circles on your clit were killing you, “Please,” you whimpered as you reached down, placing your hand on top of him, encouraging him to go faster. 

He slapped your hand aways, stopping because of you. He rubbed his nose up and down on your ear before asking. 

“are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You shook your head up and down, unable to speak as he started playing with your clit again. You didn’t realize that this game you were playing had affected you too till now. You were so desperate; you would do anything he asked just so you could cum on him because of him.

 He took his hand away from cunt and brought it up to your lips. You looked Din in the eyes as you took two of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them. You closed your eyes as you moaned, tasting yourself on his fingers. You weaved your tongue around his fingers before you hollow your cheeks, making a popping sound when he pulled them out.

He ran his finger down your body before shoving two fingers inside of you. You moved your hips down to meet the thrust of his hand. Your legs threaten to close as the pleasure builds, nonsense mumbling falling from your lips.

“More,” you begged 

“Faster,” you cried as he gave in to both of your demands. 

Suddenly he stopped, and your whines of complaint soon turned into a moan as he pressed his tongue against your clit. He shifted so he could wrap his hands around your thighs as he dove in. It was still the best thing he has ever tasted, he thought to himself. Your back arches as he bites softly on your clit before he sucks on it, and he pushes two fingers into you. You reached down your finger through Din’s hair, causing him to moan into you to moan as you clench around him. Din loves feeling the way your body reacts to him, the way you gripped his fingers, his tongue, his dick. 

You were close. You can feel it, and so could Din, so he quickened his pace. 

“I’m- I’m. “You tried to speak be couldn’t 

“I know,” he said, moving his thumb to circle your clit

You were so close, you could feel it in your stomach. You were about to cum when Din pulled his fingers out and started to lick them clean. 

You let a puff of air out as you lose your high. You prop yourself on your elbows as you looked at him, throwing your hands up asking why.

“I just wanted you to see how it feels to work so hard for something only to have it taken from you at the last minute.” He said, standing up but never breaking eye contact with you. You choked on your spit when you realized what he was referring to. 

You tried to stand up, but he placed a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down into your knees. You cocked your head to the side, and he just reached down and took your hand, placing it on top of his pants.

You looked up at him licking your lips before unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper; you pushed his pants down along with his boxers down. You spit into your hand before wrapping your hand around his dick as much as you could. You stroked him before sticking your tongue out and licking the tip, then running your tongue up and down his shaft. 

He grabbed you by your hair, yanking you back to look up at him. “Don’t play with me,” he said before taking his hand and wrapping it around your jaw to keep it open as he spits in it. 

He let you go, and you stroked him a few times before taking him into your mouth. You moaned around him at the taste of him; this caused Din to lose his balance for a second, making him grab onto a crate to balance himself. 

You swirled your tongue around his head before going back and forth, taking more of him in each time, you pulled back off of him, but strings of spit still connecting you to him. You purse your lips as you spit into your hand, reaching down to massage his balls before taking him back into your mouth, making sure to lick the pre-cum as you did. 

He reached behind your head to grab your hair as he thrust into your mouth, you gag on his dick, but he keeps going knowing that you will tap against his leg if it gets to be too much. Din grabbed on to your head with both hands as he continued to fuck your face; you could feel him inching down your throat with each thrust. He was about to nut; you could feel it as his balls started to tighten. He griped your hair tighter, signaling for you to look at him. “Where,” he asked, slowing down so you could choose.

He let go of your hair as you pulled back, sticking your tongue out. He smiled down out at you before taping his tip against your tongue a few times as he started to stroke his dick. He quickens his paces and grabs onto your head, pulling it tight, so he won’t miss his target. Din grunted as if he was in pain as he painted your face with white streaks. He rubs his dick smearing the last bit on your tongue. You swallowed the bit in your mouth before feeling around your face the rest and swooping it into your mouth. You licked your lips, smiling up at him when you were all done.

He bent down and swiped his thumb across your cheek, getting the little you had left behind into your mouth. You sucked on it for a second before he pulled it out. He grabbed onto your hand, helping you up as his hands cradled your face, and he pressed his lips to yours; he moaned into your mouth at the taste of him. He reaches down to grab your ass before smacking up light and kneading it as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss as he taps your side, signaling for you to jump up so he could carry you. You jump into his arms, and he takes you into the room you shared and lay you against the cot. You lay there waiting for him as he finishes getting undressed.

He got onto the cot and got between your legs; he stroked himself a few times before lining it up with you. He looked up to meet your eyes looking for consent, and you nodded your head, giving it to him. He slowly pushed into you feeling your walls stretch around him before tightening. Your head falls back as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You grab onto the sheets, bunching them into your hands as you feel yourself being starched to your limit. You take your legs and wrap them around Din’s waist. You cross your ankles as you try to push him into you to make him go faster.  He stops suddenly, he’s not even all the way in, and he stops. You’re starting to regret trying to make him go faster, you can’t see much, but you can see him smiling. You know that smile, nothing good is about to come out of that smile. 

Din pulls all the way out before slamming back into you completely. You didn’t even make a sound because the air is knocked out of you; your back arches as you try to catch your breath. As soon as you caught your breath, he steals it as he leans down for a kiss capturing your lips roughly.

As he continuously pounds into you ruthfully, he takes one of your legs wrapped around his waist and pushes it to your chest to get a better angle to go deeper. You cry out with every thrust, your voice bouncing off the walls, echoing in the room. 

“Mine, This body, theses tits, this tight as pussy, it’s all mine,” he told you as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. 

“It’s yours; every part of me is yours,” you agreed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him in closers. 

You were close, especially after being denied earlier; you need release. Din quicken his paces as he felt you clench tightly around him.

“I-I-I’m close,” you screamed out. 

“Cum for me, riduur,” he whispers in your ear.

The name he calls you pushes you over the edge; you clamp down on his dick as you cum. That doesn’t slow him down as he continues for a few strokes riding out you high before pulling out, flipping you onto your stomach, and pushing back into you without warning or rest. You back arch into his thrust as he makes your legs go apart, spreading you wider. He pops onto one knee, driving into you mercilessly as he reaches down to press your face into the mat. 

As he’s thrusting into you, you feel one of his fingers circle around your unstretched hole; you guys had been saving that experience, maybe for this moment. “Can I please? I’ll only put a finger in,” he begged you you nodding your head under his hand. He acknowledges the movement as he pulls out, reaching down swooping up some of your wetness before plunging back into you. He teases the hole before slowly pushing his thumb in, causing you to arch your back even more and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “ f-f-fuck, Din” you stutter out when he got fully in.

Din quickens his pace in you as he sets a steady pace with his thumb. This was new to you, so being stretched like this, you were close to began for more; you wanted to know how it would feel to be pushed to your limit in both holes. You decided against it as you feel Din reach under you to toy with your clit, you chocked on your spit as you tried to catch your breath, all this pleasure was becoming too much for you to handle, you couldn’t even seem to catch your breath. 

The pressure builds up in your stomach once again as you feel your peak near. You let sob into the mattress as you feel yourself clench around Din like never before as you cum. Your back arching to the point of pain, which only adds to your pleasure. You feel Din slow down; at first, you are confused about what he’s doing, but then you realized he’s watching how well you take him. He’s looking at how your pussy quivers around him with every stroke. He then speeds up for a second, loving the sound of skin slapping and the gushing sound your pussy makes as your wetness flows out of you staining your sheets. 

Din chuckles before pulling you up by your hair, pressing your back to his chest, as he starts to thrust into you. Your body naturally arching into him as he reaches up and cups your right breast, moving his other hand down as he rubs vicious circles on your clit. Your tried body slumping against him as he takes you from behind. He knows you’re tired even if the grip you have on his dick says; otherwise, he stills know. He leans down into your ear, telling you, “you have one more in you, I know do.”

You reach up to take his hand from your breast to wrap it around your throat; you gave his hand an extra squeeze encouraging him. You get that familiar feeling in your stomach as he continues to pound into you with one hand wrapped around your throat and the other one rubbing circles on your clit. You whimper as you try to tell Din you close, but your body is too tired to even conjure up the words. Din understood you though, he was close, not far behind you. He knew that the feeling of you coming around him would do him.

You throw your head back against Din’s shoulders as you felt yourself unravel on him. Din places a hand on the wall as he losing his balance the feeling of your tighten around him as you milk him dry, he continues to pump into you, riding out of yours. Din pulls out, turning you onto your back, laying you down before opening your legs and settling himself between them. He pulled back for a second because you had winced in pain, his dick had rubbed against your extremely sensitive mound; he pulled back, readjusting his self before laying back down. He played comfortably in your arms, his head in the crook of your neck as he rubbed circles in your side while you laid there with your arms wrapped him.

Din lifts his head up and leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy but passionate kiss that held a lot of emotion behind it. You pull away, and he pushes his head into the crook of your neck, and you reach up and run your fingers through his loose curly. 

“I’m sorry about everything I said, it was wrong, and I was out of line.” He said but face still in your shoulder 

“It’s ok. I should have been more careful when I went out; I didn’t even bring a blaster with me,” you replied as you continued to massage his scalp.

“What did you get from the market.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises. Do you not remember the droid.” He asked 

“Hey, at least we know it effective,” you said laughing, but Din wasn’t

“Too soon,” you asked, but you knew it wasn’t as you felt Din smile against your skin. You guys fell asleep just like, you holding him in your arms.

********

The next day went by so smoothly; you guys were back to the daily routine like nothing happened. Din was excited to get back to the meal sharing, he didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. You guys had eaten breakfast together but had your lunches separate because you each had your own projects to do. Which is what you told Din, but you had actually needed the rest of the day to set up everything for his birthday dinner and make the cake.

You weren’t even sure if Din knew today was his birthday, but even if that’s true, it will make for a better surprise. 

Din was coming down soon; he just had to set new coordinates. You guys needed to come out of hyperspace to get gas before continuing on your journey to the next plant where the next bounty is at, which is two days away. 

During one of your trips to the market, you found a pretty little black dress; you were so excited to wear it for his birthday. You don’t even remember the last time you were in a dress, and you knew Din had never seen you with one, so it would be like icing on top of the cake. 

 You heard footsteps above you move, and you were quick to act as you turned around, lit the candles on the cake, and flipped the light switch. 

You heard Din slide down the step and walked towards you; your back was still turned to him, and it was dark, but something was illuminating your face; he just didn’t know what. He reached over to the wall next to him and flipped the light switch on. He turns and sees the kid in his high chair next to you.

“cyar’ika,” He asked, stepping closer to you.

 You then turn around slowly, not wanting to make the candles go out. As soon as Din sees your face, he gives you a small smile, but it drops when he sees what’s in your hand. You were nervous for a second, thinking that you had crossed a line or something. Then you saw a single tear roll down Din’s face; you had never seen the man cry. You had been with him for close to a year and never have seen this. 

You set the cake down and quickly went over to him, embracing him in a hug. He hugged you back so tightly as if he was going to lose you.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner Ridder,” he said, but you only recognized one of the words used.

You reached up and wiped his tears and took his hand and led him over to the cake, Din looked at you before bending down to give you a quick kiss, and he straight up, closing his eyes for a second before bending down and blowing out his candles. You clapped your hands in enjoyment and excitement and reached over to pull in your face for a quick kiss. You heard a slight noise, and you pulled back and turned to see the kid clapping also.

You laughed at that before reaching over and grabbing a knife so Din could cut his cake. Din happily took the knife from you as he cut himself a pretty big piece of cake; he took a fork and a huge bite. Din moaned as he took his first bite, slowly chewing on the chocolate fudge cake with chocolate frosting. His tongue dashes out to lick up any residue that he might have left on his lips.

“I might have to change my mind. This might be the best thing I have ever tasted,” Din said, bringing down the fork for another bite.

You faked gasped, “what does that make me second.”

“You know what? I think I need a refresher, especially with you in that little black dress,” I said, licking his lip, and he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Later, the kid and I are hungry; it’s time to eat,” you said as you shoved him off of you. 

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed you on the neck before saying, “no, seriously, this is the best thing anyone could have given me. I have a question though, is this what you went out to get” he asked, you hummed in response. 

“As much as I love my gift, and I really do, please do risk your life over something like this. All I need is you and the kid, and I’m happy, ok.” He said 

“Ok”

Cyar’ika - darling

Ridder - wife/partner

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you.

ner Ridder - my wife/ partner




[wonlouvre]

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and angst word count: 3.7k WARNINGS: hospital setting, mentions of surgery/operation, blood, violence

a/n: so, this is it guys. the final part of ifliys :( i would like to extend my sincere thank yous to each and everyone who have read, liked, commented and shared this series. this is the very first fanfic i was able to finish/complete because of the support, love and motivation you all gave as i wrote this. don’t worry! there is an epilogue and i will announce what i have in store for them in the near future. in the meantime, this is part ten. thank you very much!

ten: moonlight | masterlist

The Queen is talkative. That’s one of the many quirks she has that you noticed when you were growing up. It’s not the uncomfortable or annoying kind of talkative. You really don’t know how to exactly put it, but she’s talkative in an elegant and easy-going way. One time, she decided to take a walk on a particularly busy street with only one member of the security detail assigned to tail her a few meters behind. She told you the whole story, excitedly. She was casually strolling and asking typical questions like what time is it to some vendors, passersby and the like. She even held a conversation about olive oil that lasted a good twenty minutes until the stranger she was talking to recognized who she was. You can tell that she had a blast as she laughed all through the evening. 

Spending time with her gradually dwindled because of your job paired with your official duties as the Crowned Princess. But when opportunity arises, you make sure to make it worth the wait. Conversations are easy with her because she’s trustworthy and most importantly, she’s your mother. She usually asks you random, yet unexpectedly relevant questions whenever the two of you share a cup of coffee or tea or when you go shopping and even now is no different, as you’re about to choose the right fabric for your wedding dress. 

“Describe the person that brings the best out of you.”

Ah, here we go. Your mother is surely not distracting you but her intent stares as she props her arm against the armrest of the white couch she’s sitting on is definitely pulling you away from the matter at hand. The look on your eyes is telling her really? and she fires back with an expecting one telling you a silent, “well? Come on. Tell me.”

You snort and shake your head, bringing your attention back to the table. You’re not denying your mother an answer because you know who to describe. It’s not that hard to figure out and you know she’s smart enough to know.

Jeon Wonwoo.

“How do you want me to describe? Personality or physical features?” You ask back and humor her as you fiddle with one lace material. 

“Both,” she challenges with a mischievous grin and you’re not one to back down. 

“Well, the person is quite tall and sharp in terms of physical features,” you start, doing your best to describe him implicitly. “Has a way with words, but they are all genuine and honest.”

Unbeknownst to you, your mother’s fond smile confirms your assumption that she is smart and that she knows who you’re talking about. But she presses on, loving how you describe this mysterious person. 

“What about those features then? How do they help you?”

You thought for a moment and when the right words came to mind, you didn’t hesitate to say, “They inspire me to do and be better not only for myself but for everyone else. Mostly it’s their genuineness and honesty that inspires me.”

You and your mother laugh together at your last sentence. 

It’s true though. After witnessing Wonwoo in the light of his Kingdom, something tugged at your heartstrings. You don’t exactly remember when, maybe it was around high school, but you remember adamantly telling your friends that you would want to be with someone that will bring the best out in you. Someone that can fuel your desire to be of service for the greater good. It sounds awfully used too often and you’re sure you’re not the only one who thinks this way, but as you have already said, it’s the truth.

Despite the circumstances, you found that someone. You found Wonwoo.

A few seconds later, Jeongyeon comes in with a knock and announces, “Your Majesty, Prince Wonwoo has arrived.”

Your eyes spring up at the name, distracted once again. And when you see the “tall” and “sharp” Prince, you’re quick to your feet and run towards him. He stumbles a little when you jump at him in a tight hug, arms clinging around his neck. Nonetheless, he smiles and welcomes your enthusiastic embrace with a soft smooch on the side of your head. 

“Wait,” you abruptly pull away. “You’re not supposed to be here, though.”

Wonwoo acts dumb, tilting his head to the side. “What do you mean? Her Majesty invited me to be here.”

“Calm down, Y/N,” you hear the culprit say behind your back as she stands up to greet her future son-in-law. “There’s no dress yet. It’s okay for him to be here.”

You subtly roll your eyes. You’re not one to be superficial but if there were a dress already, she’d take her words back. You return your arms back to Wonwoo’s waist and lean your chin against his chest, your lips pulling into a pout. He leans down to meet your lips with a quick peck but your mother was quicker to push you aside and to take her turn in giving him a hug. 

Your jaw drops and your pout is exchanged with a scowl. 

Wonwoo tries his best to hold his laughter but to no avail, fails as he formally greets the Queen. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.” 

“Always good to see you, my Prince,” the Queen replies and gently pats his cheek. “And now that you’re here, I can finally take my leave.”

“Leave? We haven’t even picked a fabric yet,” you remind her and stand in between them. 

“Honey, you have been going back and forth since nine in the morning,” she retaliates and walks back to the couch to pick her bag up. “Let’s schedule for another day. Unless you want Wonwoo to leave and we continue.”

Your stance immediately takes a hundred eighty degree turn. “You know what, you’re right. Let’s clear Saturday next week and we’ll take it from there.”

“I thought so.”

With a knowing wink, the Queen takes off.

That memory was from about three weeks ago after your visit and vacation at Wonwoo’s Kingdom. Wedding planning was back and the two of you went your separate ways for the time being to prepare your respective attire and accessories. Wonwoo didn’t know you had that conversation with the Queen not until she told him here at the hospital where you lie unconscious and fighting for your life.

The Royal Hospital was once again swarmed with a plethora of men in black suits because the Crowned Princess of the Kingdom has been shot twice, one on her shoulder and another on her left leg. It was a failed attempt in assassinating the King but Kim Mingyu took the opportunity to target your vulnerability and let his men shoot you instead as if it was his plan b. Kim Mingyu, whom he never desires to meet, is finally in police custody. He didn’t try to elude his impending arrest. In fact, he knew he would get arrested. He just wanted to toy with people until he couldn’t anymore. 

Wonwoo has no words to spare to describe him and seeing his face and hearing his name everywhere and everytime is just making his blood boil. 

The Queen has never left the hospital from the moment she arrived while you were undergoing operation up to being placed in a private room. She was calm when Wonwoo stood up from the bench to respectfully address her. She just nodded her head when he couldn’t say a word without his lips trembling and enveloped him in a warm hug as he cried on her shoulder. 

She told him that the two of you haven’t spoken since your father’s arrest and it has been unbearably painful and challenging. She acknowledges how terrible and neglecting she has been as a mother when she knows how absolutely difficult this is for you. It’s even more heartbreaking because you never once complained. Instead you respected her silence and distance. She regrets her absence and seeing you lying on a bed, looking so cold and fragile is making her world completely fall apart.

“Wonwoo, I’m so sorry that this happened,” the Queen solemnly says and holds his hand tightly. “The Kingdom promises that everyone involved will be held accountable.”

Wonwoo nods. “I understand, Your Majesty. Our Kingdom will do so as well.”

“I also want you to know that Y/N never wanted to end the engagement,” she adds. “She was just afraid that someone like her doesn’t deserve to receive your love.”

Wonwoo didn’t know that you looked up to him. If anyone should be admired, it should be you because you were ready to drop everything just to uphold justice. It’s been three days after the operation and you still haven’t opened your eyes. The operation was successful. No artery nor major organs were damaged, but you did lose a lot of blood. Just like the Queen, Wonwoo has been by your side, patiently waiting. Right now despite your stable condition, he still feels like dying. 

The love of his life almost died before his eyes. 

Wonwoo rests his head on the small space beside your arm, similar to the first time he took care of you a few months back. He gazes at your peaceful face, silently begging for you to wake up. He wants to kiss, hear and hug you again. He wants to be with you again. 

“Wonwoo.”

He sits up straight at the sound of his name and finds the Queen sadly smiling at him.

“How about you go back to your apartment for today?” She suggests, taking the seat on your other side. “Take a long shower and have some shut eye? Hmmm?”

Wonwoo bites his bottom lip, hesitant to leave and not have his eyes on you. He badly wants to stay and be here when you finally wake up. But the Queen is right. You’re safe now so he has nothing to worry about anymore. 

Slowly, he stands up from the chair he’s been sitting on for who knows how long. He clasps his one hand around yours while the other sweeps the hair that’s covering your forehead and lands a gentle kiss there. You’re starting to warm up and that’s a relief. 

He talks to you every single day, hoping you’d hear his voice. For now, he’ll keep it to himself.

I love you.

Later in the evening, you find your mother quietly dozing off, her head swaying from left to right and vice versa as she remains upright on the couch placed near the wall. You blink your eyes and adapt to the sudden brightness greeting your senses. You try to move your head and take in your surroundings and after a few minutes of contemplating, you recognize where you’re at and remember everything. 

Dad.

Your violent gasp immediately roused your mother from her sleep and seeing you struggling to sit made her jolt up and hurry beside you. 

“Darling,” she calls and holds your thrashing arms down, worried that you’d worsen your wounds. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Dad,” you voice out against the dryness of your throat. “Mom, where’s dad?”

“He’s okay too.” You can see the tears welling up on her eyes as she caresses your hair and gently pulls you in a hug. “He’s safe.”

Together, you shed the tears of anguish that you have been holding back for so long.

The King couldn’t be here because the court didn’t allow his appeal to accompany nor visit you even just for a day. He couldn’t even carry his daughter’s body to the ambulance because he was handcuffed and heavily guarded. He couldn’t even protect his daughter from the harmful consequences of his mistakes. Your mother told you that he desperately wants to be by your side and you do know that. You’re way past his inability to be here and that’s none of your concern anymore. As long as he is safe, you’re more than content. 

The trial has been rescheduled for next week and your father has to be detained until then. You’ll try to visit him again once you’re discharged and together with that, you’d also find the strength to accompany him at his trial. 

Your mother was firm on staying and insisting that she’s fine when you tried to urge her to go home, but you can clearly tell how tired she is from the lack of sleep so you didn’t let her win. It’s already late in the night when she finally gave in. Your mother kisses your cheek one last time after the doctor assessed your condition. Jeongyeon would stick around for the evening in her stead. Poor girl cried so much the moment she saw you widely awake.

Once it’s only the two of you left, Jeongyeon helped you sit on a wheelchair and wheeled you next to the window before she left to grab some extra bottled water. You can’t stand properly yet because of the wound on your leg so a wheelchair is necessary if you want to be mobile. You’re starting to feel the back pain after lying down for so long, you need to move. The doctor was a bit apprehensive about allowing you to leave your bed, but gave in when you promised to stay inside the room. 

The moon, shining in all its glory, up in the dark sky looked so enticing, you had to take a closer look. The three days went by so fast and running through all that ensued leaves a sickening sensation down to your stomach. You shake your head, not wanting to relive the frightening memories.

Your attention goes back to the moon and one person comes to mind. 

It makes you selfishly wonder if he ever visited once or asked and worried about you as you bring your hand up to your neck. When you don’t feel the lifebuoy pendant, your heart skips a beat. You then looked down to your hand, your engagement ring is also not on your finger. You frown, growing upset. They could have removed it, but it should be back to you by now. You looked around the room, hoping to find your precious gems within reach. Just in time before you could wheel yourself around to search for them, you hear the door open.

“Hey Jeongyeon, have you seen my necklace and ring?” You ask to the void as you tilt your head back to the moon.

When you don’t hear any answer other than the sound of heavy breathing, you remove your gaze from the window to see who came in if it’s not your assistant. To your surprise it’s no other than,

“Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo didn’t keep count of the exact times, but he knows how long and how much he begged just to hear your voice call his name once again. He didn’t even have the chance to change from his sweatpants and sleeveless shirt when he received the call from Soonyoung (whom Jeongyeon told to). Honestly? He didn’t bother at all because he just wanted to be right here at this moment. 

To be with you. 

He takes slow steps as he calms his breathing. Meanwhile, you remained seated and let him come to you. You’d run to him just like you did back then, but your leg wouldn’t appreciate that. 

It felt like forever for Wonwoo to get to you. But when he finally drops on the floor and lightly rests his head on your lap, there’s no reason for him to complain anymore. 

Your tears fall again for the nth time tonight. You caress his wet locks, probably from the mixture of his shower and sweat. He cries too because you can feel it seeping against the pants you’re wearing. He wraps his arms around your lap, careful from crashing his weight. You, on the other hand, bend your head down to kiss the crown of his head.

Both of your hearts are shouting, finally. 

The beautiful moonlight shines on the two of you as you both silently settle down there for a moment, not giving a care in the world because this is just what you’ve been yearning for and you’re not allowing anyone nor anything to steal this away ever again.

Your long face doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo and he knows why you’re pulling it against him. But no, he is not falling for it. Instead he ignores your silent plea and continues tucking you back on the bed. You glance up at him and try to win him again with your attempt at puppy dog eyes and when he doesn’t, you give up.

“You know that this bed is too small to fit two bodies, Y/N,” he states the obvious and drags a chair to sit on. “I know you’re smart enough to see that.”

You huff and pull the covers closer to your chin. If it wasn’t for the wound on your shoulder, you’d turn your back against him. 

Wonwoo just rolls his eyes at your antics and holds your hand under the warm blanket. 

After your short reunion, Wonwoo decided to get you back to your bed because it was nearing one o’clock in the morning. You haven’t brought up what happened and it’s alright because you still have another chance to do so. Hopefully.

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo,” you whisper under your breath but his ears can hear your words. 

He nods and kisses the back of your hand. “I know, baby. It’s not your fault.”

Baby.

You never use pet names or terms of endearment and hearing him say it for the first time almost made you faint. It’s an exaggeration but you’re weak at the moment and anything that flusters your heart can potentially weaken your whole body. 

Wonwoo then brings something out from his pockets and your eyes brighten at the sight of the necklace he gave you. He chuckles when he sees your excited expression and stands up. His fingers tenderly graze the skin of your neck when he puts it back to where it rightfully belongs. 

“I thought I lost it,” you say, holding the pendant between your fingers.

He sits back down and what he mutters next makes you feel a twinge of guilt. 

“I thought I lost you.”

You sigh and coax him to you, grasping the hand enclosed to yours. “Come here.” 

This time you let him take the small space on your bed. You sit up as well so that you can reach his height. He helps you and once you’re comfortably situated, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest. 

Wonwoo smiles at your affection and lets his hand smooth against your hair. You have always been brave when it comes to touching him and he’ll never forget how you kissed him on the lips first. He’s so glad and relieved you’re finally awake. He doesn’t think he can go on for another day without you. And now that you’re holding each other like this, he wishes for this night to never end. 

“I’ll probably not inherit the throne,” you say against his shirt. “I don’t think your family would want you to marry an abolished monarch.”

Wonwoo’s hand drops and he breathes out a disappointed sigh. He is not having this conversation with you right now. Why must you ruin the moment? 

When you don’t feel his hand against you anymore, you look up and steal a kiss under his chin. However, that doesn’t suffice because he’s still upset and it’s evident on the frown adorning his handsome face.

“But I realized I love you, so if it means I have to beg all the way to their Majesties for your hand then—”

Wonwoo doesn’t let you continue and shuts you up with a searing kiss. He softly squeezes your cheeks with one of his hands, almost as if commanding you to pucker your lips. Your eyes widened in surprise but when he put his other hand at the side of your neck, you surrendered. 

It’s no secret that you and Wonwoo kiss. Oftentimes they’re just quick brushes, but sometimes they get a little bit more intense, deeper. You won’t get into detail though, because that’s a story to tell for some other time. 

For now, you eagerly meet Wonwoo’s passion as he lays you back down on the bed, of course with caution. He doesn’t fully drop his weight on top of you, one arm carrying his upper body while the other gingerly cupping one side of your face. 

His chest is firm and his shoulder broad as you grip your hands on them and continue kissing him. You should be asleep by now because you are still recovering. But Wonwoo is a doctor himself, right? So if he took the initiative to kiss you until sunrise, then it must be alright. 

Okay, maybe it’s wrong to mock his profession like that. But, you’re just grateful to kiss him like this again. Because the last time you shared one, tears were streaming down your face and you two were on the verge of breaking up. 

“I should really put you to sleep now,” Wonwoo whispers against your lips, breathless. 

You hold your laughter, still basking in his taste. When you open your eyes, Wonwoo is already hoisting himself back up. Your lips draw into a pout again and the cause of it just rolls his eyes.

“I promise there will be more, but for now rest, okay?” He pinches your cheek lightly and sits back on the chair. 

“You can take the couch,” you tell him.

“Sleep, Y/N.”

You no longer defy and close your eyes. 

You remember the first time he commanded you those words and looking back, they are all fond memories of your then developing relationship. There were many questions when you and Wonwoo got along so well and so fast. There were many doubts and insecurities. The two of you shared those in silence, which could have endangered your hearts. However, even though your relationship was shaken and tested, the two of you persevered. 

For you, Wonwoo persevered and words and actions are not enough to thank him. You couldn’t have overcome this without his support and patience. So from now on, against all odds, you’ll do exactly the same.