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just-some-random-blogger · 1 month

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The Salt In My Blood

You were the beloved Jewel of the Realm, the youngest Targaryen born to Alyssa and Baelon. Though your nature resembled more a lamb rather than a dragon, you posed a threat at court, for a single word out of your mouth inspired a thousand actions from The King and The Rogue Prince. Thus, your match with the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Dalton Greyjoy | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest (sister!reader), reader has valyrian features (silver hair, violet eyes), power imbalance, graphic depictions of violence/assault/murder/death, canon divergence/inaccurate timelines, ye old misogyny, fuckedupedness of men, smut (dub con, loss of virginity, piv, biting, marking, breeding kink, corruption kink, baby trapping, cockwarming, cunnilingus), internet translated high valyrian, angst, social commentary, typos, etc.

A/N: !!mind the warnings!! This is really yucky because it is. all men do is hurt women. Also I did basic research for Dalton Greyjoy and just used him cuz I needed a character. idk what he's actually like and I'm 99% sure this timeline doesn't add up so, just roll w it ok? Ok. If my internet translated high valyrian sucks, well, it be like that. And surprise surprise i made another song for a fic because i should make use of my music degree while im jobless 💔 my heart goes out to @arabellasleopardcoat because her fic capital really poked my brain and got me fired up enough to write/create again, even if just for this fic. i love you.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @sloanexx @azperja @happilyhertale

Father, father, shining star, save my brother from the war. Mother, mother, hold me close. I fear brother won't come home. So, I pray, night and day, I do my duty here. Find me, oh [a] husband, so fierce with not a fear. Father, father hears my prayer. Mother, mother dries my tears. All my strife ends tonight for my husband's here.

"But what if someone sees," you whisper.

Daemon clutches your hand tighter as you hurry down the hall. He looks over to you, your expression matches your shaky voice.

Perhaps, had the conditions been different, he'd be softened by your words. The ferocity of his protectiveness would have made him stop in his footsteps and clutch your cheek. Perhaps he would have promised to safeguard you.

But these conditions did not elicit such urges from him. No. It stoked the fires bacchanal in his gut. The stolen taste of your honeyed lips in the garden was not enough.

Daemon finally brings his darling sister into his bedroom, and there, he answers you, "who would dare spy on the king's heir, the prince of the realm?"

Your breath quickens at the sound of your brother locking the door.

The prince of the realm stalks over to you, a dragon gazing upon a meek lamb.

Again, you whisper, "what if someone finds out?"

Daemon could growl. He almost did as he grabs your waist and sinks his head into the crook of your tender neck. You don't even react when he does this, save for your gasp.

Oh, how like you, how docile and doe-like, never one to raise your voice, or fight back, especially not with him.

"Let them find out, sister," he claws your clothing, "then they will not steal you from me."

You are so pliant as he squeezes you, so soft as he roughs you back to his bed. You let him handle you like he did your dolls growing up. He treated them with less than a quarter of the gentleness you would,; they'd end up tattered and broken because of him by the end of your playing session, much to your heartbreak.

Though you cried about it, you never once held it against him, because each time, Daemon would wipe your tears and apologize. He liked breaking your dolls. He liked being your comfort.

He knew without a sliver of doubt you'd let him do the same to your body. You'd let him break you, then kiss the tears off your cheeks. You'd let him, for he was your star, and you were his doll.

Daemon presses you beneath him. He lays you down where he sleeps. He kisses you, the way he has sometimes imagined he would while touching himself, or while in the arms of another. His long, silver hair falls cascades down his shoulder, joining your long, silver hair that's spilled on his pillows.

For so long, he's denied himself of you, because you were too pure, too darling to be tainted.

You whimper as he pushes your skirts up, bunching them by your ribs.

But now, it's all different.

His mouth suckles his way to your neck.

"Daemon."

Now, it's not about denial. It's about what's right. It's about what you deserve.

"Daemon-" you whimper when he reaches into the waistband of your smallclothes, "-wait."

He breathes hotly against your jaw. His hands grab your knees and parts them for himseld

You push his shoulders back, catching his attention. He is displeased, and not even your glassy eyes could quell it. He warns you with an annoyed sound.

You gulp but mutter anyway, "this is wrong."

"Wrong?!" snaps he.

You tense at his anger, yet even then, you caress his cheek gently, "I am to be married to Lord Dalton Greyjoy."

"And you would have me believe you want him?" Daemon quips, "that you do not want me?"

You push yourself up on your elbows. Tears begin to spill down the corner of your eyes, "Daem-"

"Why do you think I am doing this?" He pushes himself against your core.

You whimper at the contact. He is hard.

He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, "I do this for your sake, little girl. To save you from your prison."

You gulp and blink rapidly, your silver lashes lace with tears.

The slightest semblance of remorse flashes on your brother's face.

With your head lifted, you watch as Daemon brings his hands to your ankles instead. He rids you of your shoes and chucks them over his shoulder.

Slowly, he strips you naked until you are left in nothing but the jewelry and the stockings he bought you one before.

You cover your breasts, and he lets you while he kneads at your slightly parted thighs.

His eyes are glued on your womanhood, on the curls that don't see the light of day and the flesh that's never been touched by a man.

Daemon clenches his jaw as his fingers inspect the heat there. The two digits find molten wetness flooding your entrance. You make a breathless sound and squeeze your thighs, trying, with pointless effort, to stop him. His eyes flick to your face, the look of embarrassment, of shock, of pleasure visible to him. He debates forcing your legs.

He licks his you-coated fingers and tuts instead, "open."

You look at him, your Daemon, with the faint line between his brows. You close your mouth and lick your lips. Your hands find their way back to your breasts.

The sight is maddening, especially with how the jewel of your necklace looks between the squished mount of flesh.

"Open," he commands with less patience.

Daemon watches his darling princess part her legs for him. His trousers strain more than it did already.

He watches you closely and motions with a finger, "those too."

You do not immediately comply. In fact, you look at Daemon with pleading eyes. He raises his brows at your bratty demeanor, and shakes his head, "are you disobeying me?"

You see the threat in his eyes.

"Kessa nyke mazverdagon ao rūnagon aōha dīnagon?" Shall I make you remember your place?

You shake your head and pipe softly, "daor." No.

Finally, you reveal your breasts to him.

He smirks, "good girl."

Your brother kneads your delicate flesh and grinds his clothed groin against your weeping cunt. The sound you emit makes the feel of the clothes on his skin unbearable.

His grabs your hands and places them on his waistband. He looks down at you as he rids himself of his top. By the time his burning chest is free, you've gotten half the wits to undo his breeches.

His eyes don't leave you as he takes off his shoes.

You timidly pull his pants down, sitting up slightly as you do. You make a soft sound when his manhood flings free. Daemon shoves you back and does the rest himself.

"Daemon. I don't think-"

Your voice is crushed by the feel of his cock sliding into you. A rush of heat ripples through your body. He leans down and kisses your shoulder as you whine.

"Enough," he pants. He uses all his restraint not to fuck you dumb then and there. He grabs your thighs, pressing them into your chest. He can feel your tension. If he fucks you now, he could leave you unable to walk straight. But as sweet as that sounds, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, not that way.

Daemon sinks down to your jugular and kisses you there before he brings his hungry mouth to your breast. He sucks and nips, imagining it being heavy with milk for his babe, the babe he'd put into your belly.

The thought makes his moan and rut his hips.

You make a strained sound and your hands to push his arms. You call his name again, soft and shaky.

Daemon tries to ignore you, his hand coming to your lonely breast on the other side, but the persistent call of his name makes his sigh.

He lightly grazes your nipple before he releases your flesh. He trails kisses up your skin until he lands on your face, your face, which was now wet with salt.

"You need to relax. Mmm?" he coos, kissing your lips, "skoro syt gaomagon ao limagon? Hm?" Why do you cry?

You adjust beneath him, repositioning your thighs, digging your fingers into his nape. You whimper, "lēkia."

Daemon's belly burns. Look at you, crying for your older brother.

"Kessa, ñuha hāedar?" Yes, my little sister?

"Iksan zūgagon," you mutter, tears streaming down your temples. Your nails scratch up his scalp. I am afraid.

Daemon, selfish as he is, does not like the fact that leaves your lips. His brows furrow. He rubs your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. He kisses the corner of your lips, "hen lēkia?" Of your older brother?

You shake your head quickly, rubbing your thumb on his jaw.

His brows furrow tighter. His hold on your thigh tightens, "hen bona Āegenka Āzma?" Of that Iron Born?

You stay still. You take a moment before mumbling, "Viserys said I should marry him for my own good-"

"Fuck that cunt Viserys," he spits angrily.

Your lips quiver.

The anger in Daemon's chest dissipates as you rub the deep line between his brows. He props himself up, sinking a hand by the side of your head. He looks down at you.

"You cannot protect me forever," you whisper, finally relaxing beneath him.

Daemon watches as you lick your lips.

You gulp, "I am a Targaryen princess. I have duties to the realm, to my family."

"Your duty is with me," he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest.

Your violet eyes sparkle as you examine his features. You tuck the long tresses that block his face behind his ear. Your belly ignites at the fierce beauty of your beloved brother.

"I burn for you," Daemon says, "I know that you burn for me."

"But Daemon-"

The gentle thrust of his hips stifle your words.

"Enough," Daemon repeats this time softer, head sinking back into the crook of your neck, "you have always belonged to me, and you know it."

You whimper and instinctively mold your body against him. Your legs tighten around his torso as his thrusts grow more and more confident.

Daemon kisses you, delighting in the gasp you give when he plays with your pearl. He muffling the sound of your mewls with his mouth.

"They insult us all by daring to mix dragon blood with fucking sea squid," he pants, "you were meant to carry my seed, be my bride."

You moan, feeling a foreign force in your belly.

"I will not let that sewer monster be the one to make you a woman," Daemon licks a stripe up your neck.

You tangle your fingers into the roots of his hair, "Daemon."

His nails scratch up your sides, "twas I that watched you blossom into womanhood, tis I that should be the one to take it."

Neither of you speak after he says this. You both simply whimper, wordlessly agreeing your bodies were made for each other.

The prince had not a single care in the world. He urges you to scream out to him with the flick of his pelvis. He didn't care if anyone could hear, neither did he care that anyone would see the viscious marks he was leaving all over your throat.

You were better than he had ever imagined, and he was determined to make you his. He was intent on emptying his balls in you, over and over again, until you could take no more, until you were too exhausted to leave, until your body had no other choice but to carry him a child.

And when he finally does spill into you, coming with a grunt and a soft, "you're mine," you, the virgin princess finally understand the fuss over sex, and reply to him with an, "I love you."

Daemon fucks you until his bed is soiled with a mix of your come. He fucks you until every minute movement from him makes you shiver and whine. He fucks you until your skin is marked with tender bites. He fucks you until you beg for respite, and then he keeps himself inside you after.

You were a worn little thing, and yet you managed to have the energy to still cling to him as you dozed off.

He kisses your temple and sleeps soundly, knowing he's done it; he's made you his. That was irrefutable. Only a madman would deny him of you now. He basks in the pleasure of your body, and in the knowledge his baby sister so wholeheartedly trusted in him to let him do this.

One can only imagine, then, the mortified horror you felt when you were given to Lord Greyjoy anyway.

This was not part of the plan. You were meant to meet Daemon. He told you you were going to speak to the king together, and yet here your eldest brother was, ushering you towards your captor-husband to be.

"My princess," Dalton says, reaching a hand to you.

You stare at his glimmering eyes, finding nothing but malice and lust behind them. You turn to your brother for help. You do not want to touch this man.

Viserys offers you none and looks away. It hurts when he does so, especially since he does so with such apparently scorn. He smiles at the man, "greet your lord. You will soon be wed to him, sister."

You muster enough artificial interest to smile and take the man's hand. Goosebumps form on your skin when he kisses the back of your hand.

He notices and chuckles, rubbing where he kissed, "such demureness. Do not be frightened of me, my dragon. I would not hurt such a pretty thing."

You clasp your hands together after he releases you.

"Not unless you ask," he adds, bursting into a laugh.

Neither you or Viserys return the amusement. In fact, the latter's face contorts at the distasteful joke. His nostrils flare, "you dare jest such uncouth things in front of your king?"

Dalton Greyjoy is unbothered, but stifles his laughter. He clears his throat and bows, "my apologies, my king. Tis the Ironborn in me. I cannot help my nature, much like you cannot help yours."

You feel light headed the entirety of this interaction. The room feels like it was closing in on you, and you kept glancing at the door, praying that your other brother free you from this torment.

He does not do so. He does not come. In fact, you do not see Daemon anywhere the entire day.

Dalton keeps you by his side, taking your arm in his as he makes you stroll him around the Red Keep. You do so, of course, no matter how strong the urge to run away and hide from him was. The entire time, Dalton recounts his stories of battle, his stories at sea, his stories of life. He's sincere enough, but you are not interested in the slightest.

"I think you'd enjoy the feel of sea salt against your skin, just as much you enjoy the whip of the clouds," he grins with genuine enthusiasm.

Any response you have is put out by his next words.

"I can introduce you to my salt-wives."

"Salt-wives?"

"Aye," he says proudly, "I'd say I have about twenty, but I cannot assure you its accuracy."

You are horrified. Finally, you have the gall to pull away, "what?"

Dalton chuckles, somehow amused, but his brows furrow, as if irritated, "we Ironborn keep salt wives in our ships, to give us comfort and warmth when the sea gets too rough. Is this princess so sheltered to not know this?"

You curdle when he reaches for your neck.

"You needn't be jealous. You'd be my one and only rock wife."

You scowl at his condescending tone, "I thought that was just a wives' tale."

He laughs. It is rich, amused, and foreboding. He shakes his head, "it's about as much of a wives' tale as your dragons are, princess."

Later that night, you weep at the king's feet, begging him not to marry you off to such a man.

Viserys does not hear it, and it is only then that Daemon finally appears.

When he does, it's as if the gods themselves breathed life into you. Quickly, you run into him and sob into his chest.

Daemon holds you tightly and glares at the king, "what have you done to her?"

Viserys scoffs. The dark room, illuminated only by the fireplace and a few lit candles, feels to him like it's darkened because of Daemon. He shifts where he sits, "I? I found her a husband."

Daemon's eye twitches, "you gave her to me! You said it just this morning."

You look up at Daemon, hopeful at the sound of his words.

"I said I would think about it once you report your patrol at the City Watch to me."

Daemon releases you to impose on his brother, "I kept your city clean from crimes and safe for the people."

"And where did you go after?" Viserys narrows his eyes.

You rub your arms as you watch your brothers argue.

Daemon does not respond.

Viserys turns to you, "tell your beloved sister where you went after your patrols."

Daemon does not move.

Your chest tightens at the silence, "... Daemon."

The said man opens his mouth, "I went to get a dri-"

"A whorehouse!" Viserys blurts, rising from his seat to glare at Daemon. He turns back to you, pushing past him, "I would know. I paid every whore in Fleabottom to seduce him."

Your heart leaps into your mouth, "w-what?"

Daemon is stunned.

"See now," Viserys is close enough to clutch your cheeks, "your beloved brother is a man like all the rest. No more is the dragon righteous than the kraken."

Your eyes begin to fog with tears. Your hands begin to tremble. Why was he doing this to you?

"Greyjoy is no less a dog than the rest of us. He at least, is honoring a tradition. Daemon honors only his cock."

You turn to Daemon, hoping to find this was not the case, but his expression says it all. Youlet a pained whimper, "you teach me so cruelly, brother."

"I teach you," he swipes your tears with his thumbs, "for your own good."

"You fucking--"

You scream in terror as Daemon lunges at Viserys. You reel back and watch as the two crash down to the floor, the younger of the two finding the upper hand. They roughly struggle against each other.

It only takes another scream from you, begging them to stop, for the kingsguards to burst into the room.

You can no longer stay screaming when Daemon grabs Viserys by the collar and slams him repeatedly against the ground, especially not when Viserys claws at Daemon's face to get him off. You dash forward just as the guards order the prince to stop.

You grab Daemon's arm, and out of instinct, he swats you back, hand hitting your nose with rage powered force.

You shoot back into a kingsguard, feeling your face throb in pain.

It takes Viserys screaming your name for Daemon to stop.

The impact of hitting the armored man makes your back twinge, but it does not hurt nearly as much as the back handed hit you received from your brother.

The kingsguard catches you and stands you upright. He quickly asks if you are alright, but doesn't wait for an answer because he then shoves Daemon back, putting himself between him and you when he tries to come near.

Daemon glares in offence.

"Throw him in the fucking dungeon," Viserys spits out as he is helped up by another guard.

Daemon fights back, but is no match against three guards.

He screams your name as he is dragged off.

You clutch your face as he tells you he didn't mean to hit you. You face throbs as he tells you he loves you, and only you.

For once, you doubt his words.

Viserys comes to your side, placing a gentle hand in your shoulder. You watch as he commands a servant to get something for your hit.

He clutches your cheek that was struck and sighs, "if you wed the Red Kraken, you will strengthen our hold on the Iron Lands. Dalton Greyjoy is a formidable warrior. I couldn't think of a more capable man to safekeep the Jewel of the Realm."

As he stroked your hair, you realized that Viserys was right. It didn't matter who it was, all men were the same. When your septa warned you of men's depravity, you believed your brothers to be the exception. Now, you knew exactly why you were called-

"Little lamb," Viserys coos, "I only want what is best for all of us."

You were too naive to believe in good things.

And so you marry Dalton Greyjoy the next day.

The haste with which the wedding is prepared is to prevent you from changing your mind, you figured. That, and to keep Daemon in prison for the least amount of time.

Part of you wanted to visit him, but part of you wanted him to suffer. In the end, you realized you were too weak to behold your brother as a prisoner.

Daemon screams and bangs at his bars, demanding he be released. But the prison guards have handled worse and throw cold water at him to shut him up.

He knew by the time he was free, he would be too late to stop your marriage, but still, he meticulously planned what he would do the moment he was.

That night, after the wedding festivities were over, Dalton takes you to your room and makes you his wife.

"It's been a while since I've had a virgin," Dalton says, caressing your cheek, "don't worry, I will be gentle."

You want to scream, you want tofight him back, but you remember you're not a virgin, and fear paralyzes you. You mumble, "m-my dragon riding."

Dalton pushes back bour silver hair and kisses your shoulder.

You can't help but think of Daemon in this moment, but it makes you feel sick, and so you will him out of your head. You mumble again, "my dragon riding may taken my womanhood."

Dalton pulls away and stares at you for a moment.

"I- I was told as a child, it happened to many Targaryen princesses."

He pulls his hands, which were on your hips, away then shoves you down on your bed. He smirks as he undoes his clothing, "then I can be rough with you, aye?"

You quiver at his gaze.

He laughs, shaking his head, "didn't I say I would not hurt you? Unless under your request?"

You push inch back as he crawls over. He grabs your ankle, then the other, causing you to panic. You instinctively kick him off, but instead of being deterred, he is excited.

"Sh, sh, sh," he hushes, "it will not be unpleasant, my dragon."

Your skin pricks with gooseflesh when he removes your shoes, your socks, and sneaks his hand up your skirt.

You whimper and turn away, finding you could no longer kick back when he seizes your knees.

"Please-"

"Shhh," he hushes, giving you the first solemn look he has this entire day he's been smug, "I've had much practice from my salt wives. You, my rock wife, will taste the fruits of my practice... as I taste you."

You gasp when he suddenly rips your underwear off.

" I swear to you, your body will enjoy it, even if your mind wants you to believe otherwise."

You muffle your mouth with your palm when you feel Dalton sink in between your thighs.

He was right.

The entire time he touches you, it feels like your skin was being scorched. Your heart was not in it, but your body twisted in pleasure. You hated that you longed for Daemon, even after the fact you were not enough for him; he was still the only one you still, and this moment proved it.

You were brought to tears at how pathetic it was. Tears streamed as you reached your peak, one of the many you receive from your... husband.

He handled you with carnal instinct, just as Daemon did, but unlike him, Dalton did not kiss your tears. In fact, he did not kiss your face once. It is you that initiates such a thing, amidst the throes of your lewd pleasure. He grabs your jaw when your lips connect, and quickly releases his load into you after.

Your peak is cut short because he pulls out just when you reach it.

You watch as he rolls over and goes to sleep without another word.

The next morning, the servants call you Princess Greyjoy and it haunts you.

"No need to look so sullen, wife," you hear over your shoulder.

If the cold from the early morning wasn't enough to make you shiver, the kiss on your shoulder was.

The ship rocks as you tear your gaze away from King's Landing, King's Landing that looked so tiny now from where you stood. A sea of tears laid between you and the home that will never be yours again. You turn to Dalton. He leans his elbows on the edge of the ship and looks up at you, "we can do many things to liven your mood."

You watch him as he rubs your hips. Your stomach curdles but you manage to offer a smile, "I... am flattered, but I do not want to distract the captain of this ship."

Dalton chuckles and straightens up, "trust me. The crew would appreciate it if you did."

You squeak when he yanks you into him.

"Right boys?!" he calls loudly, "shall I make a salt wife out of my rock wife?!"

The crew cheers and it makes your skin burn in mortification.

The next thing you know, you are thrown over his shoulder. He slaps your ass and takes you to his quarters. The crew laughs as he does.

You helplessly grunt when he drops you on his bed-- your shared bed. You silently peer up at him as he stares at you. You are releived he paces across the room, towards his table. He grabs something and chucks it at you. You flinch but manage to catch it.

He sits on the table as you inspect the pouch. You open it, finding herbs inside.

"I heard you've been drinking that," he says.

You look up at him.

"Haven't you?" he asks.

You smell it and wretch. It smells exactly like-

"Moon tea," Dalton says, making your blood run cold, "for the bastard in your belly.*

You are frozen in your spot. Your stomach drops when he stands and walks over. He grabs your chin. It is not harsh, but it strikes fear in you anyway.

"I asked you a question, wife."

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING THE FUCKING TEA OR NOT?" he screams, grabbing your neck.

Your hands fly to his grip. Your fingers attempt to pry him away.

You wheeze when he squeezes you. Your flail your legs and try to kick him off. You can't. Just as your vision begins to go dark, he releases you. You fall onto the bed and frantically try to catch your breath. You cough and hear him smash things around the room.

As so you behold the man who said he would not hurt you unless you asked him, brutalize the furniture.

You think your chances are better in the sea rather than on this boat. You slowly maneuver towards the door while he is distracted. Just as you are about to sprint, he grabs you and throws you back down on his bed.

"You stupid slut!" he screams, "you think you can run?!

You try to scream for help, but the pain in your throat when you try to stops you. Not a second later, you scream anyway.

He slaps you across the face, promptly silencing you. The sting is ten times worse than what Daemon did.

"I was promised a Targaryen princess, not some whore of a dragon!" he screams, kicking the chair by his desk across the room. He laughs angrily, shaking his head, "dragon riding, my arse."

Your heart drops as he storms over, "who's the father of your bastard child?!"

Indistinguishable sounds leave your lips.

"ANSWER ME!" he demands, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you to your feet. Your head recoils at the sheer force of it. You take a moment to steady your head.

Your eyes search Dalton's enraged features, hoping to chance upon a sliver of compassion... in vain. The sound that leaves your mouth is response to the bruising squeeze of your arms. You cannot help but whimper as tears stream down your cheeks, "you're hurting me."

He is further angered by this. He gives you a powerful shake. Your head lashes back again and you scream.

"Give me a name!" erupts the lord.

You no longer have it in you to hold your tongue, and so you confess, "Daemon!"

Dalton releases you. He is repulsed, "your brother?" He scoffs, "you revolting, little worm," he slaps you across the face, making you lose your balance.

Before you crash into anything, he grabs you again and keeps you upright. You can feel your cheek and lips swell at his assault.

"And here they had me believing you were some meek lamb," he laughs dryly, brushing your hair back, "you're nothing but a whore, grown from perversion and abomination."

Your expression hardens. You glare at him and rebut, though your head was pounding, "and your sea rituals are more righteous than my family traditions?"

Without another word, Dalton shoves you back, propelling you into his desk. Your skull crashes against the edge with a horrendous thud.

You fall limp onto the floor. Dalton cares little if you were dead or unconscious. He walks out of the room right before he can witness the red staining your white hair.

Dalton is no fool. He knows better than to disfigure a Targaryen princess.

He walks towards the wheel of the ship and continues the course to what his crew believed to be a shortcut to home. In truth, he was bringing the ship to its doom, to face you with with a trail of the sea.

He would crash the ship into a chokehold of rocks, and if you survived, if he found your floating body, he would keep you, as you proved your resilience. But if you were swallowed into the depths, if he was unable to find you in the debris, he would praise the Drowned god for your riddance.

The same want with his crew.

Of course, there was a bit of this that felt like suicide, but he knew he was too vengeful to die, so he knew he had nothing to fear.

When the Greyjoy ship finally reached the rocky pass, Dalton was promptly warned of the danger by his lookout, who he obviously ignored.

He ordered to hoist the sails, and, blindly, the crew followed, even through apparent worry.

It didn't take very long after for the ship to crash into the cliffs.

The crew clamors. They scream and panic, turning to their captain that could not care less. He pretends to steer them to safety, but he actually slammed them further into their demise.

The deck begins to crumble. The mast snaps. The sails break off. Dalton calls to abandon ship.

The crew don't need any more convincing.

One by one, each man for their own, they try to escape with their life.

By the time Dalton jumps off the ship, the thing is half submerged in the water, crumbs of it on the side of a rock.

It was pure chaos.

Dalton swims far enough from the destruction, and knows the gods smiled upon him and his decision when he sees a large wooden slab he can climb on.

He does just that and looks out to his crew, helping the ones that manage to swim over, commanding the others calling for help to simply swim or drown.

He looks around, trying to make out a body of a woman, a blob of a dress, a head of silver hair in the aftermath.

"My wife," he screams, "has anyone seen my wife?!"

He wasn't concerned, of course. He just wanted to know his fate as a husband, but this did make for a good alibi.

His surviving men look and swim around for you. They find no trance.

Dalton presses his lips, "little dragon couldn't fly away."

They take refuge in a cliff. Lord Greyjoy tells his crew not to bitch and panic because they will surely be found by a passing ship soon enough.

He had planned this shipwreck after all.

By the time Dalton and his remaining men were saved, a flash of red circled in the setting sky, hovering over the massive rock that held the shipwreck that bore the sigil of Greyjoy.

Caraxes screeches as his rider commands him to get closer to the scene. The dragon hesitates but eventually lands on the cliff. Waves crash upon the area, causing the beast to bleat when he is wet.

Daemon is frantic as he gazes upon the destruction. He is distressed unlike he's ever been. His voice is distinctly desperate and hysterical. He screams out your name, even though it was nothing against the roar of the splashing waves.

He heaves heavily as he erratically decides to dismount and jump into the water.

As he wades, he tries to convince himself that what he was doing was for naught. Perhaps you were not here to begin with. But the gut feeling was overwhelming; it was sickening.

He tries to believe that bottom feeder, Greyjoy, saved you before his ship crumbled. He tries to convince himself that cunt's lust for you was enough reason to keep you alive.

But he remembers the servant he threatened with a knife whilst demanding to know which route your ship would take. He thinks of how he almost shit himself while confesssing to Daemon that Greyjoy planned to pass through a rocky region as a shortcut. But Daemon's flown over that area, and knew it was out of the way to the Iron Islands.

After squeezing out what's left from that servant, Daemon's face falls when he mentions that rusted octopus had an argument with a servant girl that came to serve the princess a cup of tea.

Daemon was no fool. Dalton was a butish barbarian. If he found out you were drinking Moon Tea, he would do his worst on you for blemishing his pride.

And so he swam. Daemon swam, dove down, and searched for your body until he had to stop because Caraxes was getting restless. He commanded him to calm down, but he could only do it so many times until he, himself, was the same.

He eventually gets back on Caraxes. Daemon can't bring himself to leave just yet however, and finds himself praying to whatever god out there to return his love back to him.

Caraxes circles the area one last time before heading off. For some reason, Daemon feels the urge to check underneath a large slab of shattered wood. He commands his mount to lift it, and the dragon screeches as he does what he can with his hind legs.

The sound that leaves the prince's mouth is what could be described as pure anguish.

A head of silver hair floats up and wafts in the water along with a tattered dress. Your body garnered a horrid tone of grey and you were missing your shoes.

Daemon cannot contain the tears that gush out of his eyes.

Caraxes carries your body in his claws all the way to the Keep.

The way in which he commands his ride to set your body down is frantic and incredibly detailed. Part of him realizes Caraxes probably recognized you, considering the way he laid on his belly and sniffed you as Daemon buckled to his knees and lamented over your stiff and frigid body.

He speaks to you in High Valyrian. His salty tears drip on your salt water drowned body. He promises he will never trick you, never argue with you, and never make you cry ever again if only you open your violet eyes.

He rocks back and forth with you in his arms, unsure which of you he was soothing by doing this.

He swears he will turn the sea red with blood and burn the whole Iron Islands to avenge you.

He is incredibly uncomfortable of the chill of your skin. He shakes his head, telling you dragons must not be kept cold. He kisses your face in an attempt to warm it up. He recounts a time where you accidentally spilled candle wax on him, burning his skin, and tells you that you still need to make up for your offence. He tells you he will forgive you if you simply hold him back.

Viserys had to account for three dragons by the time he found out what was happening, one was Daemon, whose grief morphed into murderous spite. He threatened to slay anyone who wanted to take you from him. Not again. Another was Caraxes, who refused to leave his heartbroken rider's side. The last was your dragon, who felt the loss of your connection, and went into a rabid state mourning.

It takes 5 people to secure your dragon in the pit, 5 people to subdue Caraxes, and 3 people to separate Daemon from your corpse.

The king takes a moment to clutch your hand. His face flinches. Where once your hand was so warm, no warmth now remained. He steps back and watches the maesters cover your body and take you away.

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bucknastysbabe · 1 month

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Since you mentioned it before in a different post, and your asks are open… could you please do a smut piece with Jacaerys being shy about wanting a finger up his ass

YES I CAN! JACEYYYYYYY baby🥹🥹🥹so cute

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Jace in da north, Cregan’s sis, established lovers, inexperienced horse cock bb, blowjobs, wet and messy, anal fingering (m!receiving), prostate massage/milking, jace gets a lil cum drunk, fluffy

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @fairysluna @rafeism @howyouloveyourdragon @lovelykhaleesiii @valeskafics @sugarpoppss2 @jamespotterismydaddy

Her grey eyes twinkled as she rested a sharp cheek on his thigh. Jace was panting, his cheeks flushed as he tried to calm down. His cock laid heavy on his taught stomach, dripping pre down onto his light skin. The Stark slid her calloused hand up the prince’s side, cooing, “What did you want?”

Her lips were still swollen from the impossible stretch around his cock. Jacaerys Targaryen might have begged for something off the cuff while his she-wolf was kitten-licking the bulbous tip. Something something ‘please, more, want a finger.’ It was a moment of passion, alright? Jace had a tendency toward blurting his thoughts.

To which she pulled off with an intense look. Those solemn Stark features alight with something downright predatory. She ordered this time, “Tell me what you said, Jace. I’m not judging you.” The lady readjusted herself on the furs, gaze less wolfish. Both of her hands held his waist, thumbs circling gently.

The brunette swore he would start crying. Or explode in a great burst of fire from embarrassment. He bit down on his bottom lip, shakily exhaling. Jace mumbled, “I- I heard my uncle talking about it once. A spot for men…y’know, up their ass. While getting sucked off." He slung an arm over his eyes, groaning in embarrassment. His cock was beginning to soften.

Her hand curled back around him, the Stark laughing, "Nuh, uh, don't you dare. Never had a finger up the ass huh? You're adorable. We always say you Sothron folk are the wanton ones," Jace peered at her pretty face, "You're fine, no need to be shy. M'sure most men think about it. I think about it."

Jacaerys looked up, his curls matted a bit, eyes wide in shock. She didn't care? Still, his flush ran down to his chest but his thick cock was back to swelling up, stretching her hand out. She grinned, raspy brogue teasing, "I just got to get you nice n' wet prince." He groaned, head flying back onto the warm furs as her hand and mouth began to work him.

She drooled on the tip of his cock, bobbing and lapping, hand jerking the spit down and down. His thighs twitched, a shiver crawling up his spine as his cock was growing wetter than he imagined. The she-wolf spat again into her palm, moist tongue probing at the spot under his cockhead. Jace cried out, hand at her dark hair, thighs spreading on instinct.

Spit rolled down to his balls, falling into his crack. Arousal and embarrassment warred within his head, being so open for her in an unmanly place. His lover jerked him, the sloppy sound accompanying the fireplace. She had moved her lips to suckle at his swollen balls to further soak the area. He was making soft noises, writhing, lips unable to close at the pleasure. The she-wolf hummed lazily, shoving a digit into her stuffed mouth.

Jacaerys gasped, back arching when her spit-slick finger pressed against his tight hole. She spat again, eyes lidded, lips curled up into a smirk. "Easy now, easy dragon prince, I'll make you see stars." Jace gulped, placing his trust in her gentle forefinger, hand cautiously wrapped into her braided hair. He was panting now, legs pulling up to plant his heels down.

The small tip of her roughened finger slid through, Stark laughing softly at Jace's withering look. She wiggled in further, thumb sliding up to play with the tip of his cock as a distraction. He swallowed, mouth going dry as he rasped, "Unh...seven above...feels weird." She sighed, "S'okay, it'll get better, focus on your cock right now."

He nodded, swollen lips bitten downright red. The prince focused on her swirling thumb, thighs jumping again as the sensitive nerves pricked and tingled with every movement. He whined her name, eyes falling shut as he huffed. His lover had her finger fully in his ass now, probing.

Jacaerys tried to remain quiet, unsure of the feeling, it was strange and he felt too full. She twirled her wrist around, palm facing the stone and wood beam ceilings of Winterfell. She crooked her long finger up and Jace sharply cried out, eyes open in a flash. She had found it, fuck, his girl had found it. All the discomfort and questioning of manhood had flown out his ears.

Jace stated in a warble, "My, unhhh, Stark, s'that it."

"Yeah, that's it, lookit you, already leaking and trembling for me, sweet prince. You're gorgeous, untouched and mine now."

His dark eyes traveled down to his leaky prick, pooling cum in his belly. Liquid heat had spread from deep within, the root of his cock and balls feeling much too hot and sensitive. He flushed, the feeling almost akin to having to piss...Sweet Mother above do not let that be a thing!

"You're fine, jus' milking you out, s'intense," she rambled, dark grey orbs piercing. She used her messy free hand to pat his flank, offering a kiss on his hip. The Northwoman cooed more, stroking his sweet spot in a pointed massage, not missing a beat. Jace spread his legs like a common whore, breathlessly begging for her to suck him too. He wanted all of it, this all-encompassing feeling.

She complied, not before slipping her middle finger alongside her pointer, still working that little gland with steady circles. Jacaerys didn't realize, he was so caught up in pleasure and writhing around on soft furs. The prince could laugh at himself, he was no better than the deviant Aegon.

Aegon did not have a she-wolf. He had whores. Craven.

Stark sucked down his cock again, her slick throat convulsing around his prick. She eased off and kept her shallow bobs, sucking on the head, applying more pressure as she hollowed stretched lips. Jacaerys spurt onto her tongue, apologizing, "M'sorry, darling, can't stop right now!"

Her muffled laugh was the response, grey eyes rolling amusedly. Jace tugged her braid softly, pouting. Another pump of cum emptied into her mouth, Jace slack jawed as she seemed to push more and more out of him, sucking it all down as she milked him.

He whined deep in his chest, hips weakly bucking as his thoughts grew slow and dumb. Jacaerys was paralyzed with silky, syrupy pleasure. His energy was being drained right out of his cock. She sped up her little movements, Jace slurring the she-wolf’s pretty name. The bone deep heat in his body seemed to rise up, the prince’s noises growing more frequent.

He struggled for breath as the intense feeling crawled up his belly. Jacaerys knew he was about to cum— but he’d been steadily pouring a river down her mouth. He bit his lip, tanned skin erupting into goosebumps, sweat beading on his forehead. She swallowed hard, fingers driving up, up, up. He whimpered, blinking and scrabbling at the furs and her soft hair.

He cried out sharply as the hot flames reached his chest, convulsing and moaning in confusion. Wave after wave of intense bliss wracked Jace’s body, something among the likes he’d never felt before. Stark dutifully drank him down, removing her fingers, Jacaerys whining again at the strange emptiness. He babbled a broken sentence, no clue what he was on about.

She crawled up his shaking frame, curling next to him, rubbing the young man’s flank. “Oh, you needed that hm?”

He nodded, boneless and floating. She pressed a little kiss to his reddened lips, Jace smiling wearily and returning the favor. The girl murmured, “I quite adore you too, dragon prince. Let’s lay around for a while before Cregan comes a’ knockin.”

“P-please.”

Jace burrowed his head into the crook of her neck, her comforting scent around him. He needed much rest now, eyes growing droopy. The prince snuggled in close, burrowing into her and the wonderful furs. The fire crackled on as she rasped little praises and pet his curls. He would never leave this bed if he could, the heir decided. A grin split across his blissful expression, hugging his darling she-wolf tight.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #jacaerys Velaryon imagine #Jace imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jace x reader #stark!reader

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babydollmarauders · 8 months

Text

THROWBACKS — JACK HUGHES

part of the el!hughes au

y/n.hughes

liked by jackhughes, colecaufield, and 122,167 others

y/n.hughes alexa, play fifteen by taylor swift

though if i can make an amendment, there has been nothing greater than dating the boy on the hockey team 🤍 that boy has given me the world and the absolute cutest daughter in the world

tagged jackhughes

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colecaufield damn, talk about some throwbacks!

y/n.hughes my phone made a compilation of these today and you know i just HAD to post them!

trevorzegras you post 3 photos of me and i don’t even get a tag?? i see how it is! hoe’s before bro’s i guess

y/n.hughes trevor, you’re letting your drama king out

trevorzegras he deserves to shine. don’t stick him in the basement when he deserves the pent house. he deserves to bejeweled.

y/n.hughes don’t you dare use the sacred word of mother against me! i advise you to check the book of Lover; chapter 14; verses 0:50-0:54

jackhughes it’s like i married trevor… oh i just got chills

user92 we ask, and y/n delivers omg

jackhughes lovie, you are the greatest thing i’ve ever done

y/n.hughes do you wanna reread what you just said?

jackhughes lovie, MARRYING YOU is the greatest thing i’ve ever done

jackhughes i still stand by my original comment though

y/n.hughes momma is gonna see this!

jackhughes we have a child, do you think she doesn’t already know these things?

slknight35 oh wow, you’ve been down tremendously for THAT man since you were 15? look at him

y/n.hughes since i was 13*

slknight35 that’s actually worse

_quinnhughes you two make me sick in the best way possible

y/n.hughes my bad, Q— didn’t know you were allergic to love

_quinnhughes you’ve been with him too long, he’s corrupted you. what happened to my sweet little y/n that asked me how the star wars movies were made if they would’ve been floating in space? she would never talk to me like this

y/n.hughes hey! i was young!

_quinnhughes you were 14, you were old enough to realize they weren’t actually filmed in space

y/n.hughes i was a dreamer and a believer! your brother seemed to have found that quite charming

jackhughes you were like an innocent little kicked puppy that i wanted to take home with me and keep safe forever

y/n.hughes @/jackhughes why do you speak? you’re SO pretty, and then you open your mouth

jackhughes technically, i didn’t say it, i typed it.

y/n.hughes @/jackhughes crib.

jackhughes yes, that is where El sleeps?

y/n.hughes @/jackhughes no, that is where YOU will sleep. act immature, get treated immature.

jackhughes i’m sorry, i love you

user27 these photos omg i just can’t even believe they’ve been together THIS long

lhughes_06 sis, i say this with so much love… why?

y/n.hughes what do you mean “why” ?!

lhughes_06 i mean, why the pictures? why Jack? why?

y/n.hughes you guys look adorable! and because he’s always been the cutest boy to ever walk the planet to me

lhughes_06 i think you need your eyes checked

jackhughes what is this, hate on Jack day?!

_alexturcotte i’ve always been stylin 💯

y/n.hughes hey remember when you used to call me at 7am and ask what you should wear?

_alexturcotte idk what you’re talking about. that doesn’t ring a bell.

y/n.hughes really? cause you did it for 5 years

_alexturcotte lovie, please, you’re killing my game

y/n.hughes you have game?!

#el!hughes au #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #nj devils #nhl blurb #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3 #faithlynn’s insta edits <3

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thesistersarcheron · 8 days

Text

Pairing: Feysand Rating: E Tags: Smut, Angst, Necromancy & Resurrection, Ghosts & Haunting, Morally Gray Rhysand, Silver Fox Rhysand, Dark Magic, Halloween, Breeding Kink, Beast!Rhys, Biting Summary: Feyre swallowed her horror and raised her tattooed hand. “The bargain was only for the rest of my life.”

Rhysand's grip on her tightened as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Tamlin and I didn’t shuffle your corpse around for a week every month, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had to do some good old-fashioned graverobbing to get you, Feyre.”

Her spine stiffened. Prick!

(Or, what would have happened if Feyre wasn’t resurrected Under the Mountain?)

Read Chapter 3 on AO3 now! Snippet below the cut.

A beast of scales and spikes and fangs loomed large and black over Feyre.

Ice crackled through her veins and tensed the limbs that had just been rendered deliciously lax. Frigid terror warred with the desire that had turned her molten beneath her mate’s tongue, and base human instinct froze her body into place—the same that had once brought her eye-to-eye with a faerie wolf.

Fight or flight.

And, Cauldron fry her, she had never been one to choose flight.

“Rhys?”

“Yes, love?” the monster above her drawled—and Feyre saw what she didn’t before.

The familiar upward sweep of the beast’s cheekbones. The slant of the dark, slitted-pupil eyes. The elegant, regal line of his strange maw.

Each of us has a beast roaming beneath our skin, roaring to get out, Rhys had told her the day she spent cleaning lentils out of his hearth Under the Mountain, offering a glimpse of talons and shadowed wings while she brandished an iron poker at him. While your Tamlin prefers fur, I find wings and talons to be more entertaining.

Entertaining. Fucking hell, there was nothing entertaining about this horror in the slightest.

If she had any breath left in her lungs, she might have laughed hysterically and uncontrollably at herself. At the memory of the mortal girl who thought that a wolf, a Wyrm, and a half-transformed High Lord with only the dregs of his power were frightening. Those little spectacles had been nothing. Less than nothing.

Because now, above her? Rhys was terror given form, the primal fear at the heart of every nightmare in the flesh. He was a predator, built for rending limbs from bodies and tearing hearts from chests.

He was Winged Death.

Feyre swallowed, looking closer.

The golden brown skin she had waited centuries to touch was gone. All that remained now was a broad, massive body covered in layer after layer of rippling ebony scales. Ridged and almost featherlike, they blanketed him in impenetrable armor that stretched as far as Feyre could see. And where the scales ended, the massive, membranous wings of a demon began, jutting upward from his back—austere, violent appendages tipped in claws that glinted like daggers in the low light. The sharp, dark edges of them, of all of him, faded into the swarm of shadows that surrounded their alcove.

His shadows. The lethal camouflage of a male who bent the night to his will.

His hands curled around her waist, and she felt the razor-keen talons he had once leveled at Amarantha prick her sides. When she dared to glance downward, her eyes skimming his trim waist, she found that his even feet were transformed, replaced entirely by grotesque, clawed appendages she had no name for.

But that was of little importance once the rough, strange underside of his cock slid through her oversensitive, slick folds again. Made her suck in a sharp breath as the bond twinged and he lifted himself off of her so she could see that too.

Gods, he—

Her mouth went dry at her first glimpse of his considerable length, hanging heavy and hard over her stomach. It was the same midnight shade as the rest of him, her own wetness glistening like stars in the night along its length. But the coloring, the size, weren’t what snared her mind.

It was the ridges.

Her heartbeat accelerated to an uneven, excited patter in spite of herself.

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre #rhys #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #my fics #poltergeist darling #a court of thorns and roses fic

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kyberblade · 8 months

Text

I Can Help With That (Din x Reader) - A Back To You Drabble

A/N: This is part of my Phantom 1k Celebration. It’s a combination of three requests, which can be found here, here, and here. It takes place after Part 19 of Back To You, sometime after they get Grogu back in TBoBF, and is the closest thing to smut I’ve really written. (Thanks a lot, you know who you are.) It’s really actually just spice and domestic intimacy more than anything with an implied fade to black, but…. So I’m just gonna drop this here and run. 😬 Have a nice day! (There will be a few more, less spicy, here.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Summary: After a messy bounty leaves your clan of three staying overnight in a dingy room on Daiyu, feelings come bubbling up that have been otherwise too scared to see the light of day.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Swearing. Space swearing. Arguing? Spoilers? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) Lots of angst. Tears. Brief mention of injury. Reader is having a Tough Time™️ mentally, but it’s discussed and processed. As mentioned above, some spice and alluded to Fun Times. (They are in the shower together, per the request, so nudity? But it’s not discussed? Not really?) Helmetless Din. What? Who said that?

Word count: 4,913

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for reading this over a bazillion times and not strangling me when I stressed over five words not being exactly what I wanted.

(Tagging @grippingbeskar and @darkroastjoel, these are yours.)

Xxx

It hadn’t taken long for you to find out that Din enjoyed lingering touches.

He always found an excuse for his hand to be on your lower back, guiding you through crowded markets, wooded planets; curling around your waist and holding you tight to his side to keep you warm when the temperature dropped lower.

His fingers found their practiced patterns quickly, tracing laps around your upper arm, your hip. Racing up and down your forearm until goosebumps rose along every surface he’d dared to trace.

He wasn’t satisfied until you’d shudder from the lightest touches, groan into his cowl as his fingers kneaded into a sore muscle in your neck, or your breath would hitch as his hand closed around your own.

Though the Crest was small, he made it smaller still, crowding into your space whenever he deemed you had too much of it.

Whenever you worked on a panel, digging through wires, you’d feel him hovering just behind you, a breath away from sealing his chest along your spine.

If you laid on the floor to work in the cramped space under the console, a mess of wires hanging in your face, you’d sense his presence looming near your feet, the toes of his boots resting against the heels of your own.

Sometimes when you’d tucked the kid in at night, watching his eyes droop more and more slowly as you gently rocked his hammock back and forth, humming a soft tune, you’d feel the temperature of the hull rise as his shadow crossed over you soundlessly, cutting out the little light the Crest had to offer. A smirk would twist its way up your face as you felt him hovering nearer.

Tonight was one of those nights.

So it was no surprise when he let out a hum of amusement as you turned into his chest after closing the door to the cot and a sleeping Grogu.

You both played the game, still, like this wasn’t the easiest thing either of you had ever fallen into. Still tiptoeing around the other as if nothing had been said, no secrets had been shared, no Creeds broken. That last thought sobered you up every time it crossed your mind, making your breath catch in your chest.

Pushing away thoughts of Creeds and Mandalore, you grinned up at him, resting your chin against his chest plate to keep your gaze steady.

“What’s this?” He mumbled as your arms circled around his back, disengaging his jet pack.

“Love and affection.” The pack swung your arm down, pulling an oomph out of you. Setting it down to the side with a thump, you smirked up at him, circling your arms back around his waist slowly, chin once again perched on his beskar. “Deal with it.”

“Mesh’la, you don’t want to do that….” He groaned, melting into your embrace, but also trying to lean back at the same time.

You hummed, face scrunched in mock displeasure. “You should know by now you shouldn’t tell me what to do. It doesn’t work….”

Din snorted. “No, mesh’la, I mean….” He extricated himself from your grip, delicately pushing your arms away as he pulled the rest of his body back with a small twisting maneuver. “I need to shower. That last bounty wasn’t a, er….” He hesitated, his voice going tight. “A clean kill.”

Narrowing your brows at him, you lifted your eyes to study him from head to toe, finding no trace of anything on his beskar. “You don’t look dirty.” Closing the distance once again with a single step forward, you lifted his arms up to peer under them as if that would reveal the dirt and grime in question, bending forward slightly to get a better look. Next was his cape. You tilted to the side dramatically to see underneath.

He snapped it out of your hands, spinning out of your hold and took several steps away before turning to face you again. “You wouldn’t see anything. The blood is bioluminescent. You’d need to kick on the-”

“Oh! The special work lights, yeah.” You were already moving toward the ladder up to the cockpit. “They are in my tool box, I’ll go get the-”

“No!” You stopped at his abrupt protest, one hand on a ladder rung by your head, one foot already about to push up a rung, but it slipped off with a soft thunk when you turned to look at him with raised brows. “No,” he offered again, this time softer. “You’re not gonna want to do that.” His voice lowered. “Trust me.”

You hesitated. Despite him trying to keep away, you took a step closer, brows knit together in confusion. “Why?”

He shifted his weight from side to side, voice tight in apprehension. “‘Cause now it’s on you, too.”

Holding your arms out to the sides, slowly, you looked down at your body that looked the same as it did five minutes ago, only now, it felt like you were caked in filth. Looking back up into his visor, you ignored his hands held up to try and placate you, voice raising with each word. “You could have warned me!”

“I tried!” Din almost whined, exasperated, taking a step back to maintain the distance he had tried to create. “I really did,” he added softly.

Eyes fluttering shut, you took a deep breath before letting it out through your nose. Your voice had lowered back to something closer to normal when you spoke again; hands gesturing smally, still out at your sides as you did. “Let’s just go to the room and get a shower. You go first, leave your armor outside the fresher door and I’ll clean it while you’re in there-”

“We don’t need to go all the way back to the room. I can use the sink here on the ship-” Din stopped short when your eyes flew open, landing on him with a hard stare. He sighed, the sound resigned. “Let’s get going, then. It’s at least half a mile to get there….”

You nodded, small smirk working its way up one side of your face. “Thank you.” After you began to gather a few things, you mused to him proudly, “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to get a room?” He grunted, making you scoff softly and roll your eyes before turning back to the satchel you were packing. “I mean, it’s not every day we’re on….” Your hand froze midway into the bag, the other clutching the strap of it tightly. Keeping your eyes on the bag, you didn’t dare to lift them back up as you studied its weave hoping it held your answers.

With a sigh, you lifted your head and shut your eyes briefly before cutting your gaze Din’s way, making sure to narrow your eyes preemptively.

He slowly swiveled his visor up to level you with a look. “You don’t even know where we are?” His tone was incredulous. One hip popped out to the side, his head tilting to the side as he stared at you.

“I know,” you defended, inclining your chin to peer down your nose at him before turning your attention back to the bag.

Arms crossed over his chest, he stood up straight, keeping the glare of his visor squarely on you. “You should. You picked it out.”

Making your way over to the bunk, satchel across your chest, you jumped in to correct him. “No, technically the bounty did.” You hesitated. “I only picked the puck. Which was all you. You said I was lucky or something. So this is technically on you.”

Tossing his head with a groan, Din turned away from you, grabbing the essentials while you grabbed the kid.

“Daiyu!”

Din spun around to see the kid blinking bleary eyes up at you as you looked down at him apologetically, one finger held up beside your head for emphasis.

Lifting your eyes back up to meet the T of Din’s visor, you shrugged one shoulder sheepishly, mumbling. “Daiyu, I remembered.”

Xxx

Once you got into the room, the kid had promptly fallen back asleep, allowing you to seal him safely away in his floating cradle for the night.

Turning to face Din, hands on your hips, you watched him set the bags of supplies down on a small table in the corner. “Want any help taking the armor off?”

“No, I’ll manage,” he spoke softly, not looking up at you once. His gaze stayed down toward the table, his visor angled toward the smooth surface. With a quiet groan, he walked to the other side of the room and began removing the armor piece by piece. It collected against the wall beside the fresher door in a small pile, a soft thunk with each new piece as the tower of beskar grew.

You watched in silence from across the room, sorting mindlessly through the bag of rations. He moved so stiffly once he began to set the armor down, his movements stilted and slow, like every breath was an effort. Din twisted to the side, puffing up his chest to try and keep it from you, but you noticed. The quarry must have gotten him somehow. The closer you looked, the more you saw; he had a slight hitch in his step and favored his left side more than his right, bracing on the door frame as he passed through to start the water in the shower.

Since he’d removed his helmet for Grogu and you’d seen his face, he’d been a lot less careful about taking it off in front of you. He still kept it on most of the time, it was after all what he was used to, and you didn’t mind that at all. But the few times he removed it, like right now, you found your eyes straying away from his face, unable to look without an obvious invitation. It still felt like something forbidden.

That’s why when his bare forehead pressed against yours, it caught you off guard and made you jump.

He chuckled. “Sorry.” In nothing but his flight suit, sleeves pushed up his forearms, he crowded into your space like he always did, bringing his right hand up to cup your cheek. His left arm wound around your waist to pull you tight, as his breath fanned across your face.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, words overlapping your own eagerly as he shook his head against yours, his nose brushing against your own. The smile pulling up the side of his face was contagious, and it tugged up your cheek under the soft ministrations of his thumb.

You expected him to back you into a wall like he usually did, but the two of you stood quietly in the middle of the room, simply being. It was nice to have a moment to just breathe.

Your arms made their way up to wrap around his neck, nearly all the way around when he hissed, sucking air in through his teeth as he flinched away from you. Cradling both cheeks in your hands, you held his face firmly as your eyes scanned over every part of him you could see for any obvious injury.

“Din? What is it? What hurts?”

His eyes stayed downcast, almost in shame, his chin tucked down toward his chest.

“Din?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. You’d grown used to his unmodulated voice recently, but you weren’t used to this tone. Dejected. Broken. Subdued.

You simply blinked a few times, scanning his face for any sign of what was wrong, besides the obvious, while he leaned to his left just slightly, enough that you noticed. “Din…. What?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He cleared his throat, bringing his hands up to thread his fingers through yours and lift them off his face. He gave you a gentle squeeze before he let go. His movements were soft and kind, but left no room for question.

Eyes never pulling up from the floor, Din rubbed the back of his neck in something that looked like nerves, then turned toward the fresher, disappearing behind the door as it hissed shut behind him.

Xxx

You waited a few minutes before you followed him, the soft drone of running water filling the room with a constant hum. Leaving your vambraces with his pile of armor by the fresher door, you smiled softly as you surveyed the large pile of beskar. We’ll clean them in the morning.

After you made sure the room was secure, the kid tucked away in his cradle fast asleep, you stripped down the rest of the way, before wrapping yourself in a towel provided by the room. The fresher door opened with a wave of your hand, a wall of steam curling out like you’d relieved some sort of exhaust pressure.

Walking silently into the room like Din had taught you, you closed the door behind you with a wave of your hand, the unseen force causing the steam to swirl in fascinating tendrils in the process.

Your Mandalorian was tucked away in the shower, his back to you, oblivious to your presence as you watched him, studying him from head to toe with more than just your eyes to make sure he was okay. You reached out through the Force to try and read him, something he always made so easy for you, he was an open book, but right now, he was closed off.

Furrowing your brow, you set your towel off to the side and walked closer toward the shower stall.

Din was leaning on his hands against the wall, his silhouette behind the glass dividing the shower from the rest of the room obscured from the steam already billowing around the edges.

His breathing looked labored, every breath an effort as he stood deep in thought.

He obviously hadn’t wanted you to see him like this. Battered, probably bruised. You knew it all amounted to one thing in his eyes. He felt broken.

Stepping under the spray, you blinked twice as stray droplets hit your lashes.

Din was so distracted he still didn’t even know you were here, leaning forward against the opposite wall of the shower, hands braced against the cool wall, head hung low between rounded shoulders.

Reaching out slowly, you lightly traced your fingertips up his left side, pausing when he went stiff. “It’s just me,” you muttered quietly, your right hand coming up to race against your left along his ribs.

Spreading your fingers out so your whole hand could dance along his skin, gliding along with the water droplets cascading down his sides, you pressed more firmly into him, stepping closer.

In the dim light of the shower stall you could see bruises blooming along his rib cage, contrasting brilliantly under your fingertips and against his warm skin tone.

“These are new.” Keeping your voice quiet, you let your eyes find the rest without your hands having to trace their paths.

He only grunted in acknowledgment.

“I can help with that, you know.”

“No,” he said instantly. After shifting his weight back and forth for a moment, he turned his head just slightly to look at you over his shoulder before looking back forward, and lowered his voice. “No.” Din shook his head for emphasis, his fingers flexing against the wall.

Resting your chin against his spine, careful to avoid the bruises, you wrapped your arms around to rest on his chest, bending over to drape yourself over him like a blanket. “How come?”

“That always tires you out so much.” His hands flexed again. “Plus….”

After waiting for him to go on, you pushed gently. “Yeah?”

“Plus…. When you do too much of that stuff…. Sometimes it…. Changes you….”

“How so?”

He took a deep breath, pushing off the wall to stand up straighter, unable to straighten all the way as one of the bruises pulled his spine forward slightly. You kept your arms around him, your body pressed tightly to his as you felt his heartbeat pick up under your palm.

Closing your eyes, you reached out through the Force, offering him some of your light to mend his darkness, the battered and broken skin along his sides mending back to a warm shade of health.

His pulse rose even more under your fingers, and he sighed in frustration. “Mesh’la….”

“What’s one more time,” you mumbled into his shoulder blade, tucking your face into his spine whether to hide away or simply because it made you feel safer, you didn’t know. “I don’t like seeing you hurt, Din. I’m not going to break from healing the ones I love.” You turned so just your forehead was resting against his back. “At least I don’t think.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Din only nodded after a moment. He understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood. Another sigh passed his lips as he brought one hand up to pat yours over his heart lightly, pulling it up to kiss your palm before placing it back on his chest. Then he put his hand back on the wall in front of him. Almost like a reflex. You were there, so he had to reach out and touch you somehow. It made the corner of your mouth quirk up if only for a second before it fell once again.

A long moment of silence stretched between you two until you finally ventured again, “You never explained. How? What is it that changes in me?”

Din kept staring at the wall in front of him, his voice echoing off the shower stall when he finally spoke again, but barely loud enough to be heard over the quiet drone of the running water.

“Sometimes…. Sometimes there’s a darkness to you. I don’t think you’re aware of it, it’s definitely not a conscious decision, but this…. Thing takes over, and your eyes…. They look cold.”

“When?” Your hands moved back to his rib cage. “When was the last time you saw it?”

“With Gideon. At first I thought it was just some sort of fierce protectiveness. But when you held your saber at his throat, I could feel it.” His hands came up over yours and squeezed softly, pulling them back around his chest to place them over his heart again. “The room shifted. You went somewhere dark.”

Resting your forehead against his shoulder blade, you took a deep, shuddering breath, before bringing your mouth to simply rest against his skin. Breathing as slowly as you could through your nose, your eyes screwed tightly shut, you focused on the things around you.

The smell of the soap from the room. The smell that was undeniably him that no amount of scrubbing could remove. The heat from the water. The warmth of his hold on your hands. The comfort of his body pressed into yours.

“Mesh’la?” He asked quietly after a moment, gently squeezing your hands still held in his.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “That’s…. It’s…. I’m not….” Your breath caught in your throat, another sharp inhale coming to a sudden stop making your eyes screw even more tightly shut. You couldn’t tell if it was from the shower or if you were crying, but droplets were cascading down your cheeks.

Din wasted no time, turning in your hold and gently pressing you into the wall, his forehead resting against yours as your spine sealed against the cold tile, making you gasp.

“I’m sorry,” you finally managed on a broken whisper.

“That’s not-”

“No, it is,” you cut him off, opening your eyes to stare blankly forward, catching a glimpse of his facial hair but not daring to look any higher. Not brave enough to see what you’d find there. “It means I am not in as much control as I thought. And…. That’s not safe. For any of us. I need to do better.”

“Then I’ll help you,” Din mumbled, leaning further into you, his arms circling around your waist to pull you tighter as he simultaneously pressed you further into the cold tile wall. It was a sharp contrast, his warm skin at your front, the cold wall at your back, and somewhere in the middle the warm water of the shower melding it all together in a sea of steam. It was hard to tell where he ended and you began. Every bit of him a part of every bit of you. “We both will.”

“No, Din. No.” You shook your head, rocking it back and forth against the wall, only stopping when Din pressed his forehead more firmly into yours. Swallowing roughly, you let your eyes close tightly once again. “That’s not…. It’s not the kid’s place. Or yours.” Swallowing again to try and keep the emotions down and away from your steadily wobbling voice, you sniffled before going on. “This is something I need to do on my own.”

“Dank farrik, mesh’la!” Din hissed, one hand leaving your waist to hit the wall beside your head in frustration, making you jump. You shushed him, shaking your head slightly as he mumbled gentle apologies, his hand coming back to snake around your waist where it belonged. “Don’t you see? That’s why this is a problem!”

Opening your eyes, you still hadn’t quite found the strength to look up, but you did it anyway, deciding you’d rather just see whatever was waiting for you and face it straight on than let it torment you in the back of your mind from quiet shadows.

Warm brown eyes were waiting for you, relief washing over them as they crinkled at the sides from the tentative smile crawling up his face.

No judgment, no disappointment, no fear, only something that resembled hope as they traced the lines of your face in search of something you weren’t quite sure.

“That’s why,” he reiterated, arms squeezing you gently for emphasis. “You’ve been trying to do all of this alone, and you can’t.”

Your eyes fell down to his chest and you sighed, pulling your head away from his and leaning away slightly. “Din-”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying it can’t.” Lifting your eyes back up to his, you found him tilting his head slightly to try and catch your gaze again. He smirked slightly when he did. “This is something that’s meant to be shared. From what I’ve seen, Jedi aren’t solitary creatures. At least they aren’t supposed to be. The ones that are left have adapted after years of training.”

You couldn’t help the grin that was working its way up your face. “A Mandalorian and a Jedi…. What could go wrong?”

“You're forgetting the fifty year old Jedi baby.”

“Ah yes, and the fifty year old Jedi baby,” you chuckled.

“And the answer is, I’m sure, absolutely everything.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as he reached for the shampoo. “But until then, we’re still covered in bioluminescent blood, so….” Squeezing some of the liquid onto his palm, he pulled your hand from where it rested on his waist to in between you and put some in your waiting palm as well. “….for now, I’ll help you if you’ll help me?”

You hummed in amusement. “Oh, poor Mandalorian. I think I finally found the one thing your armor can’t do.”

“Nah.” He shook his head, scrunching his face up. “I’m sure I could find a way to figure it out. It’s just….” He groaned as your fingers started to massage the shampoo into his damp hair, making your grin grow.

“It’s just….” You repeated, teasingly.

“You do it so much better,” he finished on a sigh, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder with a thump, giving you easier access to continue working it into his curls.

“What about me? I thought this was a you help me if I help you thing? You even have shampoo in your ha-” You’re cut short when his hand comes up and plops the glob of soap on your hair, making your jaw drop.

“I’ll do it after. There’s a whole bottle. Just…. Please?” He was almost whining by the end, leaning further into you. His head turned so his lips were pressed into the crook of your neck. “Please, please, please….”

Suddenly you felt him drifting, the scruff of his facial hair prickling the skin near your clavicle as he chased it with soft kisses. Working his way across toward your other shoulder, your fingers stalled in his hair as you sighed.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna be able to keep going.”

Din hummed into the crook of your neck, the vibrations tickling the skin as he began his climb upward toward your ear. His words were mumbled into your skin, causing goosebumps to spring up all over despite the still hot water. “Won’t be able to keep doing what?”

“This,” you said through gritted teeth, tugging on his hair to pull him away from your neck and send him a playful glare.

Din smirked as he leaned further back into the spray of the shower to rinse the suds from his hair, shaking his head and tossing droplets everywhere before he was back at your side. You could feel his lips turning up into a smile as they brushed against the shell of your ear, his nose tucked into your hair. “Then don’t.”

His unmodulated voice was something you’d never quite get used to, no matter what you told yourself, particularly so close to you and so quiet.

“Turn around,” he murmured, his hands smoothing down your sides to land on your hips. Gently applying pressure to reorient you with your back to him, he nudged you under the spray of the shower.

“This better be the part when you wash my hair, Tin Can,” you teased playfully.

“We’re getting there,” he rumbled quietly. “But first….” His hands left your hips, his body following after them, and despite the warmth of the water, you found yourself already missing the heat that always radiated off of him in waves.

You began to realize all the times you leaned into his quiet touches, while you told yourself it was just to appease him, to speak his language, it was every bit for yourself as well. It made you feel safe. Every time his arms silently wound around you, he lingered at your back, hovered at your side, or you felt his eyes quietly watching from across the room…. It was the safety you’d never felt anywhere else that you craved.

The warmth that encased you, that trailed over your skin with just a look, a brush of a hand in passing. You craved it. He was your addiction. And you were longing for a hit.

Taking a step back toward him in search of his warmth, you only made it half a stride before bumping into him, both of you chuckling as his hands came out to steady you on your upper arms.

“Can I help you?” He drawled.

“Uh,” you eloquently said, staring straight forward as you searched for the words, any words. “Was just looking for the soap.”

Din chuckled knowingly. “I’ve got it, mesh’la.” He dropped his chin down to rest on your shoulder. “But you knew that.”

Tilting your head back to look down your nose at the wall of the shower in front of you, you huffed. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

The Mandalorian turned his face down into your skin, circling his arms around your waist to hold you close. As he peppered gentle kisses across your left shoulder blade, he offered a compromise between each one. “Well. You know…. The kid’s gonna wake up soon. And I already used the soap. Haven’t rinsed it off yet. We could…. Share.”

The slide of his skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine, his huff of amusement next to your ear making you grin.

“We should do this more often.”

You groaned as his fingers began to massage shampoo into your hair.

“You won’t hear me complaining,” his voice was soft, tucked into your neck as he massaged the soap into your roots.

“That means getting a room more often,” you mused, leaning further back into him, your grin of amusement growing at his grumble of annoyance. “Less bumbling around the Crest, camping on backwater planets, hiding out on-”

“If I told you,” he cut in, his voice conspiratorial, “that I know all the good spots-”

“Spots?”

He pinched your hip before continuing pointedly. “Yes, all the spots, on all the backwater planets, as you so nicely called them. Some beautiful waterfalls…. Hot springs…. They’re no dingy Daiyu room shower, but-”

You turned in his grip, arms coming up around his neck as you leaned your forehead against his. “They sound wonderful, Din.”

He grinned. “Then it’s settled. Next place we stop, I’ll take you on a tour of all my favorite places.” He leaned forward, brushing his nose against yours. “Well, they used to be my favorite. Now I have a new one.”

Slowly rolling up onto the balls of your feet, cinching your arms around him tighter, you huffed out a quiet laugh. “Oh yeah? And where’s that?”

The sneaky smile turning up his face continued to grow as he leaned closer to you, his lips ghosting over yours as he whispered, “I’ll just let you take a wild guess,” before they pressed firmly to yours.

Xxx

Tags to come!

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eris-snow · 11 months

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𝐈𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, bakugou x ochaco, angst

Your first love felt as warm as the sunshine, and as welcoming as a fireplace.

Bakugou was your first love.

As warm as the sunshine, and as welcoming as a fireplace, that's exactly what first love was like for you.

The wind picks up speed whenever you see him again, as if guiding you to him...or pulling him away.

Awkward silence engulfs the two of you when you see each other again. He has Ochaco now, and he has a familiar large, protective hand snug around her waist, right where it used to be around yours.

You wish Ochaco's meaner. Wish she was cruel, unkind or even taunting just so it'd be easier to hate her. She's the opposite though. Bubbly, beautiful, strong, all encapsulated in her being displayed like she was an angel from heaven.

You can see what Bakugou sees in her.

You remember the feeling of your heart breaking all too well when you see him dipping her into a kiss at their wedding. You wish you hadn't been invited.

You do your best to feign smiles to ensure the couple that you're over him, over them, but it reaches the breaking point when they start with speeches.

You're not over Bakugou, the wound is still so fresh, and it never really set in for you until you see that dazzling ring on his finger, an identical band around Ochako's on the same hand.

Perfect, smiley Ochako.

It feels a little chilly in here, don't you think?

"I don't deserve you, Ochaco," God, her name sounds so fond when it comes out of Bakugou's mouth. A gentle caress contrasts his gruff, raspy voice that makes everyone coo. "No one here knows what shit we've gone through, the war, the damn PRESS THAT WON'T LEAVE US ALONE!" He emphasises this by throwing a withering glare at the cameraman as if daring him to sell the photos to the internet.

Everyone laughs good-naturedly, and you're the only one that feels a sting to the heart at every sentence he utters. "I'm not good with words, but I mean what I fucking say. I love you, Ochaco," There's a pause, not an ounce of doubt and it's ripping you apart as everyone around 'awws!' at his bold declaration.

"I'm not gonna elaborate about how I'll catch every star in the universe for you, or whatever poetic Shakespear equivalent you're expecting. I love you. Those words, those three simple words? They prove my fucking point."

He just had to say it again.

Your heart is shattering with every word while you gather up the shards with gloveless hands. Each fragment cuts deep, and it feels like there's a messy trail of blood trickling behind as you hug the splintered memories close to your chest.

"Izuku," You whisper, catching his eyes with a pained gaze. "I can't do this anymore. Could you tell them that I'm sorry for leaving so early? I-I just...don't want to ruin their best night and-"

Izuku cuts you off with a tight embrace. "Go," The hero says, smiling gently in understanding. "I'll explain it to Kacchan."

You thank him profusely, saying that you'd do anything to make it up to him for the trouble but Izuku just waves you off, telling you to have a safe trip home.

You hastily grab your coat from the rack, finding a bench to take your high heels off and exchange them for comfortable sneakers.

"Leaving so soon?"

Your head snaps up so fast you thought you'd dislocate something, and your eyes meet red.

Bakugou.

Your guard flies up immediately, expression guarded. You're not faking happiness, simply a void of emotion, neutral and defeated.

It fucking hurts.

"Izuku told me," He said, raising an eyebrow. "Mind if I join you?"

"No, yes, maybe." You laugh at yourself. "It's been quite a night."

Bakugou never meant to hurt you, and never, ever to this extent. He sits down. "Congratulations." His eyes meet yours, and they're so fucking blank like it's your only way to stop yourself from crying. "Ochaco's a wonderful person. I couldn't think of anyone better suited for you."

Bakugou studies you carefully and watches out for a lie but never finds one. Oh, God, you mean it. Bakugou sees what you're doing. Your self-esteem has crashed into the negatives because you don't even believe you were even worth it.

Bakugou can't help but cave.

"L/n, you know that it wasn't you, right?" He insists. There's an arm's length between both of you like you're afraid he gets too close. "It was me, fuck, I wasn't ready for a relationship. Not when I wanted to be the number 1 hero-"

"I get that." You interrupt calmly. You don't smile, you don't frown, simply keep that dumb sangfroid mask on your face. You've always been too fucking respectful. "I know everything, that's why I need to go tonight. It's painful knowing."

Bakugou wishes you'd show him something. You used to be an open book, full of life whether it was large, overexaggerated reactions or the energetic person that'd always make time for him, but now you look...tired. Subdued, if you will, as if the life got sucked out of you. You're so tensed that it makes Bakugou's eyes furrow because, gosh you seem so quiet now.

Just a sign...a tear forming, eyes misting, a bottom lip quivering perhaps? Or maybe he'd get a hearty laugh and a smack to his shoulder for him being so concerned.

Any second now.

The blank look stays in your eyes. There's nothing.

"You were great out there." You continue, finally averting your gaze to slip off your shoes. "Ochaco's lucky to have someone like you. Your speech spoke volumes. I think she'd like those bentos you make for her on the daily. I remember seeing them on her desk when I got the same patrol shift as her-"

"L/n, listen, I-"

"Your skills really improved," You power through, tying your laces on the sneakers now. "You should keep doing them, you know?" your laugh sounds more like a wheeze, like there's glass stabbing your lungs. "Bet they tasted heavenly-"

"Y/n, stop-"

"Her face lights up every time she sees you, y'know?" You stand up, eyes staring up at the stars. "She loves it when you surprise her, I remember that one time-"

"Sunshine!" yells Bakugou.

Your eyes flicker back to his, finally pausing your rant. "That's playing dirty, Bakugou, I thought you'd never call me that again." You frown.

You're like a different person now, so rational and collected it throws him off. "I just..." He runs a hand down his face, and you look at him curiously, guard higher than ever. You fully expect him to do say something worse, and he hates it.

He was young and cruel back then, he should have handled the breaking-up process better, not just...tell you so out of the blue as if he simply wanted to tell you his hero schedule for the month.

"I'm sorry," Bakugou apologises, soft and genuine. You look as if he just grew another head. "I never got to...apologise. You didn't-you never deserved to be let down like that, I should have done it better. I should have done..." Bakugou's eyes drop down to his ring, shiny and beautiful, just like his life ahead. "a lot of things better."

You catch him staring, and shake your head. "You shouldn't dwell on things so far back in the past," You chide. "What's done is done. I forgive you."

Stop.

Show him something, anything. Bakugou knows, he knows you're breaking inside, knows you want to slap him, laugh at him...he doesn't know but just anything!

Instead, you make your way to the door. "I'll be going now," You bow towards him, the corners of your mouth upturning into a small smile. "Have a good night."

Bakugou's eyes trail to your face, but you've already turned your back onto him. His eyes fall on your shoes, the same, battered sneakers he'd gotten you close to a decade ago back when you were together.

"Good night," He whispers softly, staring at your back a little longer before closing the door.

Your high heels dangle on your fingers as you use another to wrap your hands around yourself, a bitter laugh escaping you as your tears overflow.

It's really cold out tonight, isn't it?

---

End notes:

I don't really know why, but I started to tear up while I was writing Y/n talking about bentos. I was really feeling this story, so I hope it came out well.

#mha #mha fanfiction #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x you #my hero academia #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #angst #bakugou angst

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lathalea · 10 days

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20 Questions for Writers

It took me a while, but here we go! Thank you for tagging me @fishing4stars and @i-did-not-mean-to 💚

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Let me see... 49 🙈

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 682,524 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien - mostly The Hobbit, LOTR and The Silmarillion.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Please check fic rating and tags before reading! 📖 The Writer's Month 2021 ficlet collection 📖 Springtime at the Lonely Mountain 📖 All Is Fair in Love and Trade 📖 Strong 📖 Third Time's the Charm

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, I'm very happy to interact with my readers, and it doesn't matter if it's a long comment or a lovely bunch of chaotic keysmashes, I love to reply to them all!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? The first chapter of The Weeping Willow. I was crying while writing it. it was meant as a standalone story but my amazing readers convinced me to write the second chapter to make the angst more bearable 😇

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I think it's How to Kiss a Fairy, a fluffy and cute fic I wrote together with @avaria-revallier.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No, it has never happened so far. The closest to "hate" comments I got is reading loving messages like "how dare you treat these characters this way" (meant in a positive way) - I absolutely adore them!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes. Some tender vanilla, some is more kinky. I'm mostly into m/f and f/f.

10. Do you write crossovers? Rarely, mostly one-shots. My weirdest ones so far were The Hobbit crossovers with Three Musketeers, Snow White, and Star Wars.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes. It's The White Raven, not an easy thing to translate, I believe.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! It's so much fun! Here are two fics I can think of at the moment: How to Kiss a Fairy (see above) and Scattered Through Time co-written with @joyfullynervouscreator

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Canon ship? Wait, only one? How am I supposed to choose? Let me give you three ships for the price of one: Eowyn x Faramir, Galadriel x Celeborn, Bofur x Bilbo.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Listen, I want to finish all 398274238765723866782354768 of my WIPs, okay? Just please don't ask me when...

16. What are your writing strengths? I have no idea, I'm constantly doubting myself. Maybe... Storyline planning and worldbuilding?

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Do you have an hour? No? I thought so. My biggest one is laziness. And I'm not too good with dialogues. And descriptions of clothing worn by the characters. And... finishings the fics I started.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? As English is not my native language, I'm doing it every day :D Writing dialogue in elvish or dwarven languages is a great tool for a writer! Among other things, adds specific flavour to stories and I really like reading it. From time to time, I add some of it to my stories too.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Star Wars.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Every single fic I wrote is my favourite - although each of them for different reasons. What are your favourites?

Tagging (no pressure): @middleearthpixie @crazytxgradstudent @asgardianhobbit98 @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard

@sotwk @joyfullynervouscreator @ettelene @heilith and everyone else who would like to join!

#writers on tumblr #writer ask game #lathalea replies #ask game

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aestariiwilderness · 1 month

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Bad Batch Season 3, Episode I Don't Even Know And Honestly Will Not Be Keeping Track * SPOILERS * (solely because Mina Nunyabiz *REAL NAME REDACTED* has gone on so many diatribes about this inexcusable social faux pas on Tumblr known as failing to accurately and comprehensively tag your posts for pieces of media which some people haven't gotten to watching yet and this means that if they wish to be on Tumblr without getting unwanted foreknowledge they have to undergo some vast and imprecise tribulation known as filtering by tag)

I have come to two, nay, three, EIGHT whole conclusions: a. Tech hacked the Star Wars Internet. b. Tech was the Star Wars Internet. c. Pabu does not have Star Wars Internet. d. The Batch cannot function without their Internet. e. The Batch has lost its sole functioning strategic brain cell. Hemlock caught it when Tech fell. The muscle and the face are kind of just winging it now; the auxiliary brain cell said "haha see you later, losers, I need to be Rex's chauffeur"; and the attitude's first and only plan is, as always, just "KILL". f. These men are adorable and also utter morons. g. Crosshair has no experience with women. Ever. He doesn't even know how to talk to them. They're a different species to him even when they aren't literally a different species. His two methods of social interaction just recently expanded to three (murder, snark, and now mother hen) and still none of them have anything to do with proper behavior towards adult females. Let alone one who doesn't share his genes. You can tell by the way he wildly swung from default "PICK FIGHT/KILL" to "offer genteel non-sarcastic hand up to my ship without sarcasm after you almost got my Stockholm syndroming sister killed by a giant turtle because if I can't kill you I literally am at a loss for how to behave towards you". h. Tech was the only member of the squad who ever bothered to get a newspaper and check to see who they were actually fighting.

Omega IS unsettling. Well noticed Venti

Hunter, continuing to be the king of asking the specific follow-up questions that the audience feels is relevant and the askee absolutely cannot answer without losing their mysterious vibes (see: season 1 finale -- "WHEN did you have your chip removed, exactly" "Does it matter?" "YES")

Hunter, continuing to be the king of not getting an answer to his very reasonable specific follow-up question

For special ops commandos in a war they were literally created to fight, these guys do not seem to have much of a concept of "stranger danger"

"ASKING FOR A FRIEND" omigosh Omega. I have never been so ashamed of you. The big fascist experiment-happy regime is after you. WHY CAN YOU STILL NOT LIE

Why is Omega just. In charge now

And still the most unbelievable thing about this episode was like half a minute in with Crosshair willingly helping a random Pabuan AND not mercing them when they dared to smile, thank him, and use his name

HOWEVER MANY EPISODES IN AND WE JUST GOT TO THE ANSWER THAT EVERYBODY ALREADY KNEW ABOUT M-COUNTS

WAY TOO MANY EPISODES IN AND WE STILL DIDN'T GET A STRAIGHT-UP ANSWER ABOUT OMEGA'S

Qui-gon had a blood test! With a little litmus stick and everything! The crazy weed-addicted space monk had a scientific stick he jabbed baby Anakin with and HEY PRESTO M-COUNT SPREADSHEET. WHERE IS THAT HANDY BIT OF TECHNOLOGY HUH

#bad batch season 3 #star wars #the bad batch #funny #tbb season 3 spoilers #spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers

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windsweptinred · 10 months

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Five Comfort Characters, Five Tags!

Thank you for tagging me @acedragontype 💖

When you say 'comfort' character? 😅...OK, introducing my gaggle of glorious bastards.

Jonathan Crane, The Scarecrow (Batman/DC) Grumpy, anti social man creates life manifesto based on a gothic novel. Rural horror asthetic of scythe, straw and crows... And I love him for it.

Starscream, Transformers. Darling little duplicitous second in command of the Decepticons. Will attempt take out Scarecrow to be top of this list because he's that frickin petty.

Crowley, Supernatural. If life gives you lemons.. Shout/flirt at them. Me and my athletic calves are doing this right thing for all the wrong reasons... And you can't prove otherwise.

Armitage Hux/ Darth Maul, Star Wars (Do not make me choose between them!) Sad meow meow with self-worth issues does galactic war crimes to prove 'daddy' wrong.

Desire/Destiny of the Endless, The Sandman... Again, not picking. Yes I know, not Dream. How very dare I! 🤣 The two opposite ends of the eldritch scale of, this is my world, you MFs all just live in it! My emotions... Which I do not have, are the route cause of everyone else's problems.

(Honourable mentions... Alfie Solomons, Peaky Blinders. If I don't know what I'm going to do next, no one else stands a f*cking chance guessing. Sasori and Deidara, Naruto (They come as pair) Do the art, be the art... Make the art everyone else's problem. Yami Bakura, Yugioh...Babies first walking personification of hammer horror.

Tagging @ibrithir-was-here, @despairoftheendless, @thelostkelpie, @zigzag-wanderer, @two-hands-toward-the-sun, @misanthropic-geek @endlessthedestiny and @mashumaru . Cause I know you're all going to do wildy different lists! 😁 Apparently I was only meant to tag five... Well, as you can see I'm horrific at sticking to rules. 🤷😅

#tag game #jonathan crane #crowley supernatural #starscream #darth maul #armitage hux #desire of the endless #destiny of the endless

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wifeglor · 7 months

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21 for BIG MELKOR if there’s anything we are yet to know…

love you for this one for real. OK, since you said you meant the DVD commentary question, here are some additional thoughts (bite thy wings and let thee crawl, Melkor/Maglor)

First, I really just want to share all the passages from Lay of Leithian that I'd copied into my notes doc (beyond the bit I included and took the title from), because. Big Melkor canon...

Then Morgoth came. For the last time in those great wars he dared to climb from subterranean throne profound, the rumour of his feet a sound of rumbling earthquake underground. (25) Black-armoured, towering, iron-crowned he issued forth; his mighty shield a vast unblazoned sable field with shadow like a thundercloud; and o'er the gleaming king it bowed

and

Heard ye not then of that pretty fay, of Lúthien? Her body is fair, very light and fair. (210) Morgoth would possess her in his lair. Boldog he sent, but Boldog was slain: strange ye were not in Bolgod's train.

Fierce is your chief, his frown is grim. Little Lúthien… what troubles him? (215) Why laughs he not to think of his lord crushing a maiden in his hoard, that foul should be what once was clean, that dark should be where light has been?

Whom do ye serve, Light or Mirk? (220) Who is the maker of mightiest work? Who is the king of earthly kings, the greatest giver of gold and rings? Who is the master of the wide earth? Who despoiled them of their mirth, (225) the vain Valar? Repeat your vows, Orcs of Bauglir! Do not bend your brows. Death to light, to law, to love; cursed be moon and stars above; may darkness everlasting old (230) that waits outside in surges cold drown Manwë, Varda and the sun; may all is hatred be begun and all in evil ended be in the moaning of the endless Sea!' (235)

and

Into the vast and echoing gloom more dread than many-tunnelled tomb in labyrinthine pyramid where everlasting death is hid, down awful corridors that wind (5) down to a menace dark enshrined; down to the mountain's roots profound, devoured, tormented, bored and ground by seething vermin spawned of stone; down to the depths they went alone. (10)

and

Slow-wheeling o'er his iron crown, reluctantly, shivering and small, (95) Beren there saw the shadow fall, and droop before the hideous throne, a weak and trembling thing, alone. And as thereon great Morgoth bent his darkling gaze, he shuddering went, (100) belly to earth, the cold sweat dank upon his fell, and crawling shrank beneath the darkness of that seat, beneath the shadow of those feet.

and

Yet welcome, welcome to my hall! I have a use for every thrall.

and

A pretty toy for idle hour. In slothful gardens many a flower (190) like thee the amorous gods are used honey-sweet to kiss, and cast then bruised, their fragrance loosing, under feet. But here we seldom find such sweet amid our labours long and hard, (195) from godlike idleness debarred. And who would not taste the honey-sweet lying to lips, or crush with feet the soft cool tissue of pale flowers, easing like gods the dragging hours?

and

Then flaring suddenly they fell, down, down upon the floors of hell. The dark and mighty head was bowed; (275) like mountain-top beneath a cloud the shoulders foundered, the vast form crashed, as in overwhelming storm huge cliffs in ruin slide and fall; and prone lay Morgoth in his hall. (280) His crown there rolled upon the ground, a wheel of thunder; then all sound died, and a silence grew as deep as were the heart of Earth asleep.

Like did I even have to write this fic?? Tolkien wrote it first...

This is most of what I have to say that I haven't said before, aside from that I love to see people in the tags of @aquaregiaart's beautiful art losing their minds in the exact same way I did when I first saw an earlier version of it and felt possessed by a demon with the urge to tell some more of that story!! 😌

One other thing on my mind when writing beyond horny was Melkor's voice, I guess. I really wanted his lines to "sound" resonant as though they came from a position of power, and "read aloud" well, and I tried to pay attention to that when I was editing, taking out some of the hedging and other words I had in there as options at first (at least one "I think" got cut at that stage... Just picture me like staring at 2 very similar options like it's the dress meme, muttering to myself "Would Melkor say this? I don't fucking know..."). I haven't spend a ton of time thinking of Melkor as a character (I've only written him a little bit before, in the backdrop of Finrod/Sauron AU) and I really wanted him to come across as scary and brutal/unflinching but also keep some sort of undertone suggesting that At One Point, he was or could be a seducer figure as well. Also, revisiting these Lay of Leithian portions with him was inspiring in terms of writing & keeping in some of his dialogue in the fic, because he DOES have a villainous glee in Lay of Leithian, a bitter, proud sort of "positioning" against the Valar, and he likes to hear himself talk. After reading that, I felt a lot more empowered to write him talking some more!! Thank you so much for your Big Melkor support all through working on this, it makes my heart grow to Big Melkor sizes ❤️❤️❤️

#answered #swanmaids #BLESS YOU <3 #i think this makes it sound like i did more Research and so on than i actually did for writing this smut fic but YOU KNOW #at some point thoughts were had

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palfriendpatine66 · 6 months

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20 Question Fic Writer Tag

1.) How many works do you have on ao3?

19, soon to be 20! ( three are just little prompt fills/drabbles that I’ve considered removing but also – I want to be able to find them again just in case they ever turn into something more so.)

2.) What's your ao3 word count?

306, 375

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars. That’s it, and probably all it will ever be (except for my crazy crossover aus). It’s a full time job over here.

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

DX:Lovesick (I had a really weird moment when this passed PIP in the kudos count. Like, I love it and was really proud of it, but also: how dare it). Anakin is an accident prone college student who winds up in the care of one very hot Dr. Obi-Wan Kenobi

Pining in Preschool: My first ever fic (started exactly one year ago!) Anakin is trying his best to be a good dad to his twins, and that probably means he shouldn’t be falling for their preschool teacher.

Hide Here Often: This is bottom Obi-Wan smutty one shot

Helicopter Dad: This is a continuation of Pining in Preschool: 4 times that Anakin was a Helicopter parent and one time Obi-Wan beat him to it. I’ve been intending to do a part two with Obi-Wan ever since, but it hasn’t happened yet.

With a Cherry on Top: This is a ridiculous continuation of Pining in Preschool – Obi-Wan and Anakin get in a fight about eating in bed that results in a sex ban until one of them backs down. Spoiler alert: it ends with a sexy food in bed scenario because *of course* if they break they have to prove a point about it

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to always yes. I used to have a 100% track record, and I really wish I was maintaining it. Comments are my lifeblood. I literally cannot tell you how important receiving comments is to me, it’s like, a problem honestly, and so it’s definitely something I want to encourage. I try to always respond to a comment at least as an acknowledgement of “I appreciate you were here and took the time to let me know you liked this”. BUT also I genuinely love engaging about my fics and am more than happy to go on my “Author’s Commentary” spiel at any given moment.

Life’s kind of been shit lately, and I’ve had a hard time if I don’t respond to comments right away as they come in they get lost in my inbox. Also. ADHD.

6.) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

OoOoOo Window AU – to be revealed tomorrow. I don’t have the ending for Criminal Minds fully written, but even though it might be a “happy ending” it’s not going to be a happy ending, if you know what I mean. OH BUT if I ever write my post order 66 Obi-Wan on Tatooine vague idea for which the working title is “Obi-Wan Sads”. Yeah. That will probably be the worst.

7.) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm. Pining for Preschool probably. It ends on a very high note, although also it’s not really an ending because I continued it into a potentially never ending series that seems to be 90% fluff after the angst I put them through in the original fic.

Also Center Stage (dance au)was a happy ending for sure.

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

No, generally all my comments are very positive. There was a weird moment in DX:Lovesick where I wasn’t necessarily getting the hate but Obi-Wan was, and he was getting a lot of it. I wasn’t upset by the comments so much as I was worried that I didn’t write well/clear enough to convey the situation as I thought I was, but I settled on people are going to read their own situations into stories and interpret it differently than intended and that’s okay.

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes. The Obi-Wan and Anakin kind.

10.) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I had a fit of insanity and wrote an Obikin Titanic au.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not. That would be sad

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t think so no

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope! I think I have too much anxiety to commit to doing this, even with the right people. Put expectations on things and I just…can’t.

14.) What's your all time favorite ship?

IDK man. Kovu and Kiara from Lion King II: Simba’s Pride

15.) What's a WIP you'd like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Right at the time I started writing PiP I started a time travel (?) au that resulted in amnesiac Knight Skywalker as master to padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi right when he rejoins the order after returning from Melida/Daan, instead of rejoining Qui-Gon. I would be shocked if I ever get back to thin, I really jumped the gun and there’s so much of it I don’t have in me, but…there’s still something about it that calls to me.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

I always feel super awkward answering this, but I feel pretty good about capturing Obi-Wan and Anakin’s voices, especially their internal voices (if that makes sense) so that they still feel like them in other universes

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

Oh gosh. I am learning as I go. Outlining/having a plan and sticking to it vs. just winging it as I go along. Knowing where paragraphs should start and end – which feels like you should just *know* but I don’t. Descriptions.

18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Great! But I’m not fluent enough in anything to do it

19.) First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars – Hiiiii!

Also, though, the only other stuff I wrote was Star Wars but the year was 2005 and it was for an audience of one (me!). Your Pal was a nerd who carried around a little notebook and wrote down every piece of jedi wisdom and quotes I encountered while I wrote about Obi-Wan and his OC apprentice who was *definitely*not*me* (their name was literally an anagram of my name lol) on their long term undercover mission on Earth, among other things.

20.) Favorite fic you've ever written?

This varies by the mood. I genuinely love Pining in Preschool, and it will always have a really special place in my heart. Dx:Lovesick was a very fun ride, I really and truly enjoyed writing it and I feel like it holds up. Right now I’m pretty attached to Criminal Minds, for a completely different dynamic and take on obikin.

No pressure tag to @renlyslittlerose and @grapenehifics

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nostalgia-tblr · 4 months

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20 Questions For Writers

I got tagged by @thot-son-of-odin for this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

412 (plus some Anonymous works that aren’t counted in that number)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

777,634

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Doctor Who (old and new), various Star Treks, the MCU, and a few others including Elementary and M*A*S*H.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Trust the Devil

2. Four Times the Doctor and Clara Shared a Bed and One Time They Didn't

3. Locks And Revelations

4. Responsibility

5. How To Walk On Eggshells

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I didn’t used to but I try to now. It took me a while to get past “if I thank them for the kind words that means I agree and they can call me big-headed!” but now I think perhaps the commenter and I will become friends, as though this was still the LJ days or whatever.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I am answering these together to say that with 412 works it’s rly hard to come up with an answer because I’m bound to forget something that’s either angstier or happier than the one I pick D:

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

No, despite writing occasionally Problematic stuff. Maybe I’m just lucky with that? I think on AO3 the worst I’ve ever got is a comment or two on Ten/Reinette fic about how it is a TERRIBLE pairing and how dare anyone write it. I think I deleted those, or if I haven’t then I meant to, because fuck it they’re properly tagged so the enraged anons must have deliberately chosen something that would offend them.

This sort of thing is why I still have an automatic flinch reaction when people tell me they like Rose Tyler.

9. Do you write smut?

Of course not! I write very thoughtful and insightful character studies in which the characters being studied fuck, that’s COMPLETELY different!

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not often, I’m more into the idea of crossovers than actually writing (or reading) them.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah, a few times.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes but not for years.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I’m going to say Doctor/TARDIS because that’s a safe answer to such questions.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Never say never – I’ve had ideas that did finally get written a decade later.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I think it’s dialogue, which is also usually the easiest part to write. (I am a bit of a Fic Snob about how characters should sound like themselves in fic, including in AU fics where is even more important and also if they go OOC in those then that should be the point that’s being made.)

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

The bits that aren’t dialogue. Urgh, why must things need to be described! Why must I tell the reader who is speaking!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Well I usually see it in the context of “a phrase or word in the language we assume the characters are actually speaking” (mostly pet-names, for some reason) and that just makes me go “So what language are they speaking in the rest of this story? In the rest of this sentence, even?” Not a fan of this, nah.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars! :O

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I dunno, there’s too many of them (same problem as before).

I tag anyone what wants to do this meme!

#fic related #20 questions for fic writers

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doodlesbf · 11 months

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Mafia chain & blind child

**tag @thesoftieanon and @luimagines **

Chapter 1

The Fierce star at the wolf for a good moment as the wolf growling and barking at him. The deity ponder if he should just leave the wolf but it have the child magic on it plus he's in the middle of nowhere so he decided to at less try get the wolf trust and get down on his knees infront of the wolf that's still growling at him.

Fierce: do you belong to a child here wolf?

The wolf stop to hear about his owner and stop his growling and sit down surprised the deity to mention the child to this wild wolf but seeing how well behave it is he felt like he bit closer but patience is always rewarding so the Fierce try again.

Fierce: I need help to get to the house of heros. The child wear the mask so your only seeing me.

The Fierce watch the wild wolf for a moment then the wild wolf woof get up to look to a direction but look back to the killed elk that the Fierce see and reach over to pick it up to follow the wild wolf in the woods again to go one direction.

The chain arrive to a heavy wooden area that's the edged of their territory side and time look to the woods remember his younger days before the whole mafia came but came back to reality when he hears twilight and warrior footsteps coming close to him. Time turn around to face the two boys that stand right infront of him both ready and over the two shoulders he see the rest the chain all ready to go too but wind look like he ready to ran since he's overly hype clearly he found wild's bake goods again.

Time: listen up all of you. Your mission is to find the traitor and find the Fierce deity mask, ignore anything else that maybe in this woods.

Chain: yes time!

Wind grab his bag from the car and close the door just as the others was going to go in those woods they hear footsteps and each of them pull out their weapons out ready for whatever heading their way. Twilight and warrior guard infront of time as time look to were the footsteps are his hand already on his weapons as the footsteps grow louder and louder til the bushes infront of the chain is shaking.

Hyrule, wind are ready with their guns ready to shot on sky or warrior commend but a dog comes o u t the bushes as it panting and shaking its fur, everyone relax to see its just a wild dog than a person so the chain put their weapons away but the Fierce deity comes out the bushes with the killed elk he's still carrying as the chain jump to not only see the familiar face of the mask but shiver to be in all of his presence of a war God, executioner of monstrous major mask, savior of all hyrule history.

Time watch the Fierce deity walk til he stop right infront of time,twilight and warrior as the dog watch the group not trusting any of them but he needs to be their for his owner and want his sweet and innocent owner back so he follow the strange man.

Time: fierce, who is the host that dare to wear you?

Time ask the deity ready himself to possibly that the traitor may have figured out and is in control and ready himself to the moment were he have to draw his weapon since he knows all the deity moves and abilities as fierce put down the elk on twilight and warrior making the two question it with their eyes and him.

Fierce: fear not time. That man isn't the host infact he's trap in the wall down the path by myself.

Time relax a bit to hear that but is confused on how hes-

Fierce: the host that wear the mask is tiny and is the owner of this wolf.

The wolf look to the three with disinterested as he walk circle around them waiting and wanting his owner as the group watch still.

Time: than take off the mask fierce-

Fierce: first time, I need to ask you a very important favor that likely be very different from what you and the chain will experience.

Time and the chain shock that the Fierce is asking for a favor but the look he's given is a *you will do this favor* type and time sign possible thinking this host is talking through the deity but he bearly feel the host presence but he can feel the overwhelming magic energy even more now than the deity infront of him.

Fierce: this host is injured and likely need treatment and will stay in your care-

Wind: hold up! How we'll know!-

Hyrule slap his hand over wind mouth to shut him up to not anger the God or upset the host as wind lick hyrule hand to make him remove his hand from his mouth.

Hyrule did remove his hand out of disgust that wind lick his hand but he did ask for it by cover wind mouth but the Fierce the same careless face expression half dismissed wind choice of words.

Fierce: their young so their not a threat. I trust you'll do the right thing time.

The deity say and reach his hands up to grab the mask edge and slow pull it off as a light flash blind the chain for a few moments then the chain look again to see the deity is gone but no adult but look more down to see a seven year old child, their hair long dirty, clothes look bearly fit this child body and dirty and ready to fall away at any moment, cuts and bruises on their legs,feet and their arms and hands but the more concerning they all see is that their eyes are blind and they have been marking on their face by the deity for likely wear the mask and also that their right side of the head is bleeding stain their hair red likely what the deity say is true and the chain look to time to see what he's going to do and his orders.

The child blink owly and is confused to hear the outdoors and hold the mask in their hands.

Child: wolfie?....

Wolfie bark right next to the child and he nuzzle them to have been so worry of his owner and tail wagging fast that the chain thoughts that the wolf will fly away.

Twilight is worry to see a young child in this condition but he or the chain are not normal people, their mafia. They done things save the world but also done things that is bad the same time and the freaked god war ask them *time* to look after this child but he can't be serious..twilight thoughts running all over the place and he can see the others are thinking like him too but time is emotionless so it's hard to read him even if time is twilight uncle.

Time look at the small child as they reach put to pet the dog well wolf yet being careful with the mask in their hand. Time could just ask for the mask and leave the child be with or without doing what the deity's favor but......time couldn't since seeing the child reminded him of his child days with the children back in his woods, his home were they were a family til he came and he find himself alone and have to survive with what he learned and the people he's met on the way..

Time: child.

The child from happily petting the wolf to shaking and scared to hear a man voice as the wolf went to straight for defense use his body to shield his owner from the tall man amd growling bear his teeth out to show dominance and don't touch the child.

Time can see the child reaction and how quick they became scared and the wolf behavior from a harmless dog to hellhound in seconds which did making a few of the boys grab their weapons but not pull their weapons out waiting on time commend.

Time open his mouth to were the child in hope they'll give him the mask back without a fuss if they do well four and wind are small in size and they can try or convince the child to give the mask back.

Time: child will you return my mask?

Time ask the child without trying to not scared the child more than they already are and the child ears twitch to hear and they slow pat wolfie puff up furry and the wolf stop growling and step aside so the child can step forward.

Child: i-is the mask your *swollen down the build up nervous *

Time: yes, I'm the owner or host of that mask. It was stolen from me.

Child: o-oh, I see. Is it alright to place the mask on the ground?

Time: yes you can little one.

Time watch the child slow go on their knees to gently place the mask down on the ground since it's for the better, if he was to ask by hand he believes that child will have a panic attack and that wolf would be on defensive of the child. Once the child place the mask down fully on the ground and was going to get up but the child felt dizzy and lightheaded but their head hurts the same time that they lift their hand to their head. They felt a wetness on their head and hair then pull their hand back to notice its is wet but have a smell of iron?....-

Time can see the child is wobbly and see them in a quick second faint and quick to go to them and grab them in his hands as wolf growl and try to pound on the man that touching his owner but get tackle down by twilight. Twilight struggles with the wild wolf, twilight doesn't want to hurt the wolf but seeing the child faint he knew that he needs to ether knock out the wolf or keep him-

Warrior comes around and pull out a blowdart to dart the wolf with a sleeping dart as four bring a case to open it and grab the mask to put it inside of the case were it will be safe as the wolf slow down due to the dart effects to make the wolf sleep as time held the unconscious child in his hand and pull them in his arms and get up to stand up.

Time: twilight bring the wolf, hyrule I need your assistance to heal the child head injury to stop the bleeding. Sky,legend and wind go look for the traitor, bring him back to the base for rough interrogation.

Hyrule hearing his name walk over to heal the small child head injury to stop the bleeding but that's all he could do since weird this whole area feel like a magic draining so his abilities are limited here.

Sky,legend and wind leave like order but they did glance to the unconscious small child before they leave and twilight got up with the sleeping wolf in his arms to put it in one of the cars since he knows time is likely taken both the child and wolf than leaving them in this woods.

Warrior: time, are you sure about this? Bring the child with us?

Time: I believe it's time to add one more member into our group, afterall we're one big happy family.

Time say holding the unconscious child in his arms and walk over to the care as hyrule give warrior a look of well looks like we have a child in the base now and he runs after the three and warrior sign see twilight enter the driver side clearly going to drive time back to base so warrior guard the other car.

Warrior: hope we have enough funds than since child are expensive....shit this just keep on getting interested and worse the same time. Zelda is going to kill me later.

#linked universe au #linked universe #blind child #fanart #tagging luimagines #doodle write #tagging thesoftieanon

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