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#lovely complex moodboard

yongblock · 19 days

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ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

#1st icon by me #stray kids #skz #kpop #random #icons #layouts #anime #headers #felix #moodboard #seventeen #seungkwan #lovely complex

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vthanie · 5 months

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤ ㅤ me faça objeto das suas escolhas, ㅤe eu lhe reduzo aos meus objetivos. ㅤacontece que almejo além do imaginário possível.

ㅤ ㅤ eternaria o teu nome nas estrelas, ㅤse o brilho do teu olhar já não estivesse cravado nelas.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

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inbloomaesthetics · 2 years

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Animes for the Signs

Aquarius:

Pandora Hearts

K Project

High Rise Invasion

Lovely Complex

Durarara!!

Sword Art Online

#zodiac #moodboard #aesthetic #astrology #signs #anime #animes #high rise invasion #sword art online #lovely complex #durarara #k project #pandora hearts #aquarius

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hazyaltcare · 2 years

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An Ouma Kokichi (Danganronpa v3) moodboard with themes of obsessive love towards Saihara Shuichi, having a god complex, and anger.

Mod Haze (🎮Greyson)

#irl #danganronpa irl #ouma kokichi irl #saihara shuichi irl #black #pink #purple #blue #moodboard #tw repitition #tw obsessive love #tw god complex #🎮#mod haze

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minkiverse · 10 days

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POLY!ATEEZ FIC RECS PART 1

Part 2 - Hongjoong - Seonghwa - Yunho - Yeosang - San - Mingi - Wooyoung - Jongho

A collection of Ateez fics that I think everyone should know about!!! This has been QUITE the project, but I'm so happy to have done it. Unfortunately not all my recs could fit on one post so there will be at least one other part to this list, as well as individual member lists. (i really thought i could fit them all on one post lmaooo) I hope you enjoy and support these authors!!

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please review all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

POLY!ATEEZ

Sway With Me - @luvt0kki 🔥⛈️ Sci-fi ✧ Ongoing

the world 🤌 the story 🤌 the SMUT 🤌🤌🤌 but truly this fic is such a fun take on a sci-fi adventure. im already obsessed with the mc, AND HER AND WOO'S CHEMISTRY?!?! off the charts sooooo good like 👏👏👏 the interlude has me a tiny bit nervous because now i know how well this author writes angst and yeah its gonna be a doozy 😩😩

Wonderwall - @atzfilm ✨🔥⛈️ Yandere ✧ Faerie AU ✧ Ongoing

i realized pretty quickly that yandere is much more popular in this fandom than in previous ones i've been in, so i never really read any. HOWEVER, i get it now i do lmao. this was the first one i read, and i was HOOKED like i couldn't stop reading! the story just like took over my brain, and i am thinking why am i sympathizing with the guys BUT I AM BECAUSE THEY ARE COMPLEX AND SO INTERESTING AND WELL WRITTEN!!!!! its hard to put into words how much i love this series

The Answer - @berryunho ✨🔥⛈️ Cult AU ✧ Ongoing

i genuinely don't think i've ever read a fic like this, and i mean that in literally the best way possible. i was STRESSED reading this like there are so many scenes that make me question everything, but like there is no one to trust about what is actually happening. idk if i'm making sense but this fic just needs to be read to understand the legit anxiety it gives me in certain chapters lmaooo😭😭

Deep Down - @seventhcallisto 🔥⛈️💗 ABO AU ✧ 9th Member AU ✧ Ongoing

this is just self indulgent fun AND THAT PEOPLE IS WHAT FANFICTION IS MEANT TO BE!!! like im just kicking my feet reading about this 9th member ateez finding out she's an omega!~ i'm having the TIME OF MY LIFE!

Into the Aurora - @honeyhotteoks ✨🔥⛈️💗 Idol AU ✧ Complete

this soooo quickly became my main comfort fic for ateez! like i have reread this TOO many times. sometimes i'll just revisit specific chapters, but i know the exact chapter number.... is that concerning? lmaooo~ but truly this is more than just a you date every member of ateez fic (WHICH ARE GREAT DONT GET IT TWISTED!!) but the more we learn of the mc the more i adore her and her relationship with the boys!! it's just a must read ok 👏👏

Inception - @remedyx ✨🔥⛈️💗 Dragon!Teez ✧ Royalty AU ✧ Ongoing

my brain is still stuck in this world tbh, like its maybe a bit embarrassing how many times i look at the map and moodboards and just vibe and think about this fic lmaoo! but honestly the world building is so thoughtful and its so easy to just immerse yourself in it which is amazing!!!!!!!

Dragon from the Window - @thelargefrye ✨🔥⛈️💗 Dragon!Teez ✧ Fantasy AU ✧ Ongoing

this collection of one shots, drabbles, headcanons, and world building i went through SO QUICKLY I WAS IMMEDIATLY OBSESSED. i am so genuinely invested in this story and how each member react to their connection with the mc!!!! ALSO the mc is a witch SO BIG BONUS POINTS!!!!~

like the moon - @sunmoonjune ✨⛈️💗 Warrior AU ✧ Clan Systems ✧ Ongoing

try not to cry challenge - FAILED, MULTIPLE TIMES 😭😭 this is major hurt/comfort, but its truly such a beautiful story!! i would do anything ANYTHING for gray!!!!! all of them deserve the absolute best in the world and i just adore them so much 🥹🥹🥹

Morning Mist - @mint-yooxgi ⛈️💗 Dragon!Teez ✧ Yandere ✧ Ongoing

another story with an mc that is just 🤌🤌🤌 like she is so badass i'm in love but also scared lmao,, but i think if you are new to yandere, this is a good starting point! like yes they are obsessed but not like terrifyingly so if that makes sense~

MULTIPLE MEMBERS

This Night Together - @honeyhotteoks ✨🔥⛈️💗 Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ ABO ✧ Ongoing

listen i'm a bit of a slut for ABO fics and this one!!!! THIS ONE IS SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!!!!!! im like just in love with all of them not just yungi n reader but EVERYONE (except u minseok u bitch) like not only is the main plot so good but the side plots for the other members is just incredible,, i just love this story too ok if you see this author know that every fic they write is going to be a comfort fic for me 🥹🥹

Project Omen - @atzfilm 🔥⛈️ Hongjoong x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Hybrid AU ✧ One Shot

Bouncy - @hongism 🔥Yunho x Reader x Jongho ✧ Mechanic AU ✧ One Shot

splish splash - @atozfic 🔥San x Seonghwa x Wooyoung x Yunho x Reader ✧ Swimmer AU ✧ One Shot

sharing is caring? - @byuntrash101 🔥Hongjoong x Reader x Mingi ✧ Idol AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @orgverse 🔥Seonghwa x Reader x San ✧ Idol AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ One Shot

Threesome with Yungi with woosan watching - @k-hotchoisan 🔥Yunho x Reader x Mingi (San and Wooyoung) ✧ One Shot

one more rep - @cheollipop 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Personal Trainer AU ✧ One Shot

blue bird - @seonghwaddict 🔥💗San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Mafia AU ✧ One Shot

What's the Time, Mr. Wolf - @starlitmark 🔥Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ Hybrid AU ✧ One Shot

the good friend + the better friend - @byuntrash101 ✨🔥San x Reader x Mingi ✧ Idol AU ✧ Two Shot

as a sangi bias this fic changed my life maybe?!! the smut is just toe curling ESPECIALLY PART TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!! literally i could drool just thinking about this fic 🤤🤤 i need this to be my reality ASAP

Untitled - @ja3hwa 🔥Seonghwa x Yunho x Mingi x Reader ✧ Business (?) AU ✧ One Shot

knockout - @igbylicious 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Boxer AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @sanspuppet 🔥Hongjoong x Reader x Seonghwa ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥San x Reader x Mingi ✧ One Shot

Time of Love - @desayunho ⛈️💗 San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ SMAU ✧ Complete

compromise - @cyberpxnk 🔥⛈️ Seonghwa x Reader x Yunho ✧ College AU ✧ Soccer AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ One Shot

cheerleader - @byuntrash101 🔥Seonghwa x Yunho x San x Ming x Reader ✧ One Shot

from eden + Pt. 2 - @atzfilm 🔥⛈️ Seonghwa x Reader x Yeosang ✧ Vampire AU ✧ Two Shot

whichever way - @igbylicious 🔥💗 San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Neighbors AU ✧ Ongoing

Under the Comforter - @thelargefrye 🔥Seonghwa x Reader x San ✧ Idol AU ✧ One Shot

Double Trouble - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Wooyoung x Reader x Jongho ✧ Hybrid AU ✧ One Shot

What Should We Become? - @sluttywoozi 🔥💗 Yeosang x Reader x San ✧ One Shot

like a dream - @cheollipop ✨🔥💗 Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ One Shot

this is like so incredibly hot, literally all i need in life is to be in between these two men 😩😩😩 but it is also so sweet and both boys are so doting to the mc and the end!!!!!!!!!! so loving and cute and aaaaaaaaaaaa 😭😭😭

SCENARIOS/TEXTS/HEADCANONS

ateez as royals who fall for you (hyungs, maknaes) - @eightmakesonebraincell 🔥⛈️💗 Royalty AU ✧ Scenarios

subby ateez - @seventhcallisto 🔥Headcanons

Ateez cumming too soon - @sluttywonwoo 🔥Headcanons

soft cuddles with ateez - @beenbaanbuun 💗 Scenarios

first kiss with ateez - @beenbaanbuun 💗 Scenarios

Ateez and pussy slapping - @kitten4sannie 🔥Scenarios

Bedroom Mishaps (hyungs, maknaes) - @seohwang 🔥💗 Scenarios

Ateez 'n free use - @seventhcallisto 🔥 Scenarios

Cupping their Cheeks - @yeorisanaxox 💗 Scenarios

Ateez as Exes + Pt. 2 - @kisshwa 🍑 Texts

Friends to Lovers Headcanons - @kpopnstarwars 💗 Scenario

boyfriend!ateez discovering you write smut - @eightmakesonebraincell 🍑 Texts

Ateez being overstimulated (hyungs, maknaes) - @ateezscupid ✨🔥 Scenarios

listen i just like sub!ateez a lot 😭😭 but like these are such a go too for me when i NEED some dom!reader content like it is so cute/hot/toe curlingly delicious 🤤🤤🤤

mtl of who would like choking - @sxcret-garden 🔥 Headcanons

texts when they think you’re asleep - @beenbaanbuun 💗🍑 Texts

#ateez #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez fic recs #fic recs #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #fic rec masterlist #in celebration of chellateez week 2~~#merengue makes lists

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jobean12-blog · 9 months

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Dark Desires

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x reader (Demon AU)

Word Count: 700

Summary: Now that he's finally found you he's never letting you go.

Author's Note: Another one for @pupandkisasaesthetics Aesthetic's challenge! Thank you bunches to beauties @sgt-seabass and @rookthorne for hosting such an awesome challenge!💕 And thank you bunches to my beautiful Ali @flordeamatista for reading this over and supporting me always!💕 Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰The moodboard is by me and the photo prompt I was given is the very top picture. I've also included it on its own at the bottom so you can get a good look!

Warnings: some angst and tension but he's soft (maybe soft!d-a-r-kish if you squint) and definitely s-e-x-y.

In the deep, dark of the woods, where the moon’s pale light struggles to pierce through the dense canopy of trees, there is a thick silence other than the rapid thumping of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears.

Your feet catch on fallen twigs and branches, your skin scraped and torn but you don’t stop running.

Unseen eyes watch from the shadows, a presence so powerful you can feel it in your bones.

You’re being hunted.

Instinct fuels your escape but it’s futile as the forest seems to shift around you, pathways twisting and turning in a disorienting dance.

As you stumble over the ground and fall to your knees you suck in a deep breath, the whisper of wind carrying strange murmurs in a language you don’t understand.

Suddenly, you feel a cool breath at your neck, your hairs standing on end and goosebumps shivering along your skin.

You turn with wide, fear filled eyes but there’s nothing but the darkness of the woods pressing ever closer.

You stand on shaky legs and step carefully toward a large tree, pressing your back to the thick bark and searching for the source of the palpable force.

A tall and broad figure emerges from the shadows, it’s silhouette only something you’ve seen in books and as it moves closer, steps measured and deliberate, you can start to see the outline of huge wings.

You squeeze your eyes shut and will the image away, digging your fingertips into the tree.

The voice, when it speaks, is a whisper against the shell of your ear, powerful in it’s seduction and dangerous in it’s temptation.

A slow and deeply satisfied smile frames sharp teeth and his breath quickens when he inhales at the soft skin of your neck.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “My perfect Angel.”

Your eyes are still closed tightly as a single tear rolls down your cheek. He lifts his thumb to tenderly brush it away.

“Open your eyes,” he says softly.

Unable to resist you do as he says.

“There,” he says, holding his saccharine smile. “Was that so hard.”

Your lips tremble as you try to find the words to speak. His thumb, still pressed to your skin, moves lower, tracing the outline of your mouth until he lightly presses against it, parting your lips.

“Don’t be afraid,” he coos, spreading expansive wings the color of twilight until you’re surrounded only by his presence. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He tilts his head invitingly and holds your gaze, the horns that crown his head, twisting upward with artistic grace, glinting in the moonlight.

Your lips part further as something moves behind him, long and sinewy but before you can decipher what it is it disappears from sight.

“Wh…who are you?” you manage to ask as you finally let your eyes wander over the rest of his features.

He inches closer, his nearness creating a complex blend of emotions and sensations, blurring the lines between fear and desire in a way you could never have imagined.

His blue eyes are mesmerizing, their intensity both powerful and imposing but yet softened by an unyielding desire. Long but strong fingers continue to ghost over your face, his touch igniting a fire under your skin that spreads through your veins.

“James. You can call me James.”

You gasp out his name when you feel something slide along your calf. It’s touch is gentle despite the power you feel and as it explores the contours of your skin with reverent curiosity you become aware of what it is.

Each caress of his tail leaves a lingering trace of tingling sensations, awakening a trail of longing that seems to coil around your very being. He slides it between your breasts, lightly tracing the curve of your neck before he loosely wraps it around the delicate column.

“What are you going to do to me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

His dark hairs falls forward, brushing your cheek as his soft lips caress your ear and his voice, like velvet, whispers promises that sink deep into the recesses of your desires.

“Everything Angel. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @late-to-the-party-81 @sebstanwhore @lookiamtrying @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @kmc1989 @littleseasiren

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #demon!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #demon!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #demon!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #demon au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #pup&kisasaestheticchallenge

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maitroll · 1 month

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HEY GUYS IM OPENING COMMISSIONS AGAIN 10 SLOTS THIS TIME + read bellow for more info (5/10)

VALUABLE CONTEXT ok so my cellphone is dying and i dont have enough for a new one. so um, if you have ever considered getting a commission from me... or like the art i put out, now is the time to support me <3

IMPORTANT INFO:

- payment via PAYPAL or WISE

- payment done upfront (half before sketch for the complex ones if prefered)

- NO NSFW altough my limit is pin-up style poses + outfits

- i reserve the right to refuse a commission for personal reasons.

- be mindful of my style

COMMISSION TIPS AND TRICKS

- this artist loves reference in fact, commissions take quicker and are generally prettier with plenty references given!

-references can be, text description, moodboard, photos, other drawings ( even crude ones! ), etc

DEADLINES: this is a tough spot for me, im finishing college this semester. But ill try to take less than a month preferably and 2 months at max. ANY QUESTIONS ? just DM me!

#my art #sonic #art commissions

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beachylupin · 9 months

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I'm Not In Love || Remus Lupin x Muggle!Fem!Reader

i'm sorry for such the long wait everyone! but here it is! the heartbreak you've all been waiting for! i'm sorry if this is bad, but i didn't want a happy ending just yet. feedback is welcomed and appreciated! to preface: this part takes place at the very beginning of november here's part one and the moodboard word count: 3.8k warnings: mention of alcohol and cigarettes, swearing, descriptions of a panic attack, angst!!!!!!, reader is kind of an asshole, miscommunication, quickly edited

“I really don’t want to go,” you told Lily, hands on your cheeks as you rested your elbows on your kitchen island. “It’s actually like… the last thing I want to do with my time.”

“Please,�� Lily begged from the other side of the counter, causing you to groan. “The whole Remus thing was a misunderstanding. He’s been very busy, but I know that he really wants to call you.”

Your head hit the table with a dull thud.

Busy? Remus hadn’t called you even though you gave him your number at Lily’s wedding a month ago. You genuinely thought he was interested, just as you were, and still are, but after the first month of dead silence, you got the message loud and clear. “Busy” wasn’t a very good excuse anymore. As far as you were concerned, he wanted nothing to do with you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why as you tried to forget about him.

Despite how many times James and Lily came to your flat or you went to their new one in that short time, Remus was rarely mentioned until now. Hell, you had seen more of Sirius than you had of him, and now two months after the wedding and a week before Sirius’s birthday, Lily hasn’t shut up about him.

“I’m not worried about the Remus thing,” you lied as you raised your head off the table, rubbing your forehead. “I’m worried about the wizard bar thing.”

That part wasn’t a lie. If a wizard wedding made you feel as self-conscious as ever, you couldn’t even imagine what a wizard bar would be like. They had different drinks with different effects, and you didn’t want to make an ass of yourself in front of someone who made you comfortable at said wedding then rejected you. You just wanted to fit in with a group of wizards, and you were already spiraling because of Remus’ apparent rejection. You had been rejected by other men before, sure, and while it hurt, this blow from Remus really threw you for a loop, causing a sour ache to start in the bottom of your chest whenever you thought about him. That meant the ache never really went away, but it lessened when you were busy with work or studying. You didn’t know if you could handle not being accepted by a whole friend group.

“It’s not at a wizard bar,” Lily huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve told you at least twenty times that it’s at the pub right down the road from your complex.”

“Oh, weird,” you said, definitely remembering, but you scrunch your nose anyway, pretending to rack your brain. “I would’ve remembered that, but it’s like… I don’t want to go or something.”

“You’re insufferable.” Lily met your glare with one of her own. “You know I could just lead Remus to your flat, right?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” you challenged, and Lily only smiled. “Lils, please. The wedding was with him was fine, but if he liked me, he would’ve called-”

“Remus wouldn’t just call,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “He’s much more romantic than that.”

“Well, I sure haven’t seen any of it, have I?” You grumbled back. “I’m not going.”

Lily went back to whining, a pout replacing her scowl. “Come on. Sirius would love-”

You began to lie, “I don’t know Sirius-”

“Just show up!” She snapped, raising her eyebrows. “Say it was a coincidence.” You groaned, and Lily grabbed your hands. “I’ll buy you as many vodka crans as you can drink, and you can hang out with the girls and I.”

“Lily-”

“Please,” she said, squeezing your hands. Lily looked so hopeful, her green eyes full of optimism. She knew it would break your heart to say no as she batted her lashes. “Please.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, and Lily squealed, rounding the island to pull your head into her chest in a squishy hug. You threw your arms around her to stabilize yourself on the stool, but she took it as a sign to squeeze harder, rocking you from side to side. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“I promise you it’s going to be so fun!” She cooed, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to the crown of your head before she gasped. “We have to pick you out an outfit!”

The next week was filled with near mental anguish. While you mentally prepared to see Remus again, you fully convinced yourself that he rejected you. He rejected you.

Could it be because you weren’t pretty enough? Or maybe you weren’t interesting enough. You had a sinking feeling it was because you weren’t like him. You couldn’t do anything he could do, and, in fact, you had to work much harder for things than he did. That’s fine, you reminded yourself.

You had to make yourself okay with this. You constantly told yourself that it was okay that he didn’t like you even though he was all you ever thought about. It’s not as though you knew each other. You had met once, you kept telling yourself. It wasn’t that deep. It was just a fun little crush that you had at a wedding. You weren’t in love. It’s fine.

You told yourself that he wasn’t busy. Remus just didn’t want you. That’s why he didn’t call. You weren’t enough for him, and you just had to accept that fact before you had to face him again to avoid any of the awkwardness.

It was going to have to be fine. You were going to have to act like everything was fine.

You arrived late to the party on purpose, busy pacing your flat and preening yourself in every mirror you passed. Nervousness made its home in your belly, anchoring itself by winding its way through your muscles and nerves. You could feel yourself flush scarlet as you doused yourself in perfume for the last time before you absolutely had to go.

You left your complex at a quarter to ten even though Lily told you to be there at nine sharp. Your heeled boots that Lily made you wear clicked on the pavement as you walked as slow as possible to the pub. Catching the reflection of yourself as you passed a darkened store front, you sighed.

You had on a black leather blazer, covering the sheer black tights, a black mini-skirt, and the white, lacy blouse you were wearing. You curled your hair, per Lily’s request, and darkened your lips with a wine-colored lipstick, matching it with a basic, brown eye. She said you were going to look “so in.”

You leaned toward the window, fixing your earring in the glass as you contemplated going home.

“Say it was a coincidence!” Lily’s words rang in your head as you fixed your other earring.

“A coincidence,” you mumbled to yourself. “A funny coincidence.”

You stepped away from the window, huffing to yourself as you set off toward the pub again, spotting it on the next street corner. Rehearsing what you’d say to everyone quietly to yourself, you finally reached the pub door.

Throwing your head back, praying a silent prayer, you entered the busy pub, bee-lining to the bar as if you weren’t expecting to see anyone that you knew. Taking a seat, you ordered a manhattan, scooching yourself closer to the bar.

In all reality, you spotted them right away, the girls were in the small crowd in front of the DJ and the boys, dressed as posh as ever, were around a small table, talking loudly. You knew Lily spotted you too, but you didn’t want to find out who else saw you, or even worse, who she told.

Your drink came with a grin from the bartender as you slipped off your coat, placing it underneath you. You silently thanked him then fished out the cherry at the bottom of the glass, popping it in your mouth and sucking it dry from the whiskey that it had absorbed.

You picked up the glass then turned around on your stool, scanning the crowd.

“... a coincidence!” Lily’s words echoed again.

You knew that at least Lily knew you were here, so there was no point in blatantly avoiding them. But what would you say? Your pre-planned conversation was gone. The nervousness wound its way up to your throat, forming a lump.

You took a sip of your cocktail as soon as you caught Lily staring at you from the dance floor. She turned around quickly, said something to Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas then walked away from them, a determined scowl on her face as she approached you.

“You’re late!” She hissed, pulling you into a hug. She reeked of vodka, her sour breath wafting into your face as she spoke again. “I said nine, and it’s ten!”

“I was nervous,” you mumbled, holding your drink out so that you could take the rest of it behind her back. “Sorry,” you said after you swallowed thickly.

Lily pulled away from you, her face still in a scowl. “I told you not to be!” She huffed, glancing over her shoulder. “The girls saw you as soon as you came in. You better put a smile on your face because they’re-” Lily’s whole demeanor changed as Mary’s hand met her shoulder. She smiled artificially, her lips pulling up to expose her teeth. “Look who I found!”

You sent your empty glass on the bar, mouth opening with faux surprise. “Oh my God!” You said, smiling widely. “I had no idea that you guys were going to be here!”

You hopped down from your stool, pulling each girl into a tight hug, squeezing them as long as necessary for them to believe that you were actually shocked.

“I was just coming to get a drink!” You gushed, glancing at Lily. “This is such a funny coincidence!”

“Come on, darlin’!” Marlene said, grabbing your coat and your hand. She beamed at Dorcas and Mary. “We haveta go show the boys who we found!”

“We really don’t-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you another drink,” Lily said, smiling sweetly. You could see right through it, knowing she was still slightly mad at you. “Vodka cran, right, love?”

You grit your teeth into a smile. “Right. Thanks, Lils.”

Marlene giggled as she pulled you toward the boys, Dorcas and Mary lagging behind. “Mary thinks she’s gonna hook up wit’ Sirius tonight,” she gushed in your ear drunkenly. “‘S never gonna happen, but poor Mary sure thinks so.” She snorted, now walking way too far ahead of you, dragging you along.

You looked at the group of boys she was pulling you toward, all of them engrossed in a conversation except for the one you were actually trying to avoid.

From your quick glance, you could tell Remus’ cheeks were flushed, and you didn’t want to know if it was because the heat seemed to have turned up about ten degrees since you had locked eyes, or if he was drunk. You decided it was the latter in an attempt to make yourself feel better, ignoring the acid that burned your chest.

“Look who ickle Lils found sittin’ at the bar all by her lonesome,” Marlene slurred as soon as you walked up to the boys.

You felt your mouth pull into a smile despite the hammering in your ears. “Hi,” you said, feeling your arm wave a small wave.

You felt as though you were having an out of body experience as James pulled you into a sweaty, beer-soaked hug, squeezing you, and passing you along to Sirius, who kissed your cheek with wet lips.

“Happy birthday,” you mumbled as he pulled you into a hug, swearing he was sweating Jose Cuervo.

“I told you she was going to come!” Sirius ranted from behind your back. “Pretty girl can’t get enough of me!” He let go, his arm around your shoulder.

“Cat’s out of the bag,” you said, shrugging as he kissed your cheek once more.

“Someone’s more than excited to see you, doll,” he said near your ear, gently nudging you toward Remus.

You took your first real look at him. Remus hadn’t changed much except for the fact that he wasn’t leaning on a cane, and he had gotten his haircut, getting rid of the sun-bleached strands and leaving muddy brown in its place. You could tell he had been drinking by the way the sleeves on his white button-down were rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons undone. You could see the outline of a box of cigarettes in the pocket of his black slacks.

He looked good. You could feel your face burn, trying to rub it away and playing it off like there was a fly buzzing around your head.

“Hiya,” you said, trying to be as nonchalant as possible as you pulled him into a one-armed hug around his middle.

He sniffed, moving his drink to his other hand as he squeezed your shoulder, mumbling, “Yeah, hi.”

The two of you separated almost instantly. Peter nodded a hello to you while James and Sirius exchanged looks. Marlene had turned around, loudly shouting at Mary and Dorcas who were on their way over.

Your gaze snapped to the ground as you swallowed thickly. The pep talk you gave yourself didn’t help at all.

“I’m going to head to the loo quick,” you said, glancing at James and Sirius. “I’ll be right back.”

Before anyone could protest or tell you that they were coming with you, you shot off toward the bathroom, trying not to break out into a full sprint.

You pushed the bathroom door open, entering a dingy stall and locking it behind yourself.

Sitting down on the surprisingly clean toilet, you let your head hit your hands with your elbows firmly planted on your knees.

“You’re fine,” you mumbled, sucking a breath into your reluctant lungs, pushing it out as you mumbled. “It’s fine.”

You recognized the panic as soon as you saw Remus in all of his glory. You pushed the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to stop the inevitable tears. Breathing started to seem hard as you sucked another unwilling breath into your lungs.

Your week of talking yourself up hadn’t worked. It wasn’t just a crush. Love at first, or second, sight was real, and unfortunately, you seemed to be experiencing it.

Your hands started to shake as you took in another breath. Standing, you opened the stall door, walking out to grip the sink and stare at yourself.

You looked fine albeit for the single tear that you swiped from your cheek, so why didn’t you feel fine.

“I’m fine. I'm having fun,” you told yourself quietly. “Just get a drink, a-and act normal. I’m not in love. I’m fine, and I’m here to have fun.”

I’m not in love. The bile rose in your throat as you thought that phrase over again. I’m not in love.

You cupped your hands under the faucet, taking a scoop of tap water into your mouth.

Just then, Lily peeked in, her eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“The lads say you ran off,” she said, clutching your elbow. “Are you alright?”

“This wasn’t a good idea,” you muttered to Lily, shutting off the water. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“What?” Her eyebrows pinched together. “Is this about Remus?” You reluctantly nodded. “You’re fine, okay? He’s just awkward.”

“He wasn’t awkward at your wedding,” you mumbled.

“That’s news to me,” Lily scoffed. “You’re just overthinking.”

“I just really want to go-”

“Come on, you big worry wart,” Lily said, tucking you into her side. “Let’s go see the girls. They’re talking about Mary getting into Sirius’ pants.”

“Lily, please-”

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” she said, patting your shoulder.

“Lils-”

Despite your protest, Lily guided you out of the bathroom and over to the girls at the bar.

“-just so dreamy, right?” Mary cooed, her longing look thrown at Sirius. Lily snorted as Marlene scoffed.

“He’s not into you!” Dorcas groaned, her arm around Marlene’s waist. “He’s not going home with anyone, and I think you’d know that by now!”

“But I could convince him, right?” Mary asked redundantly, glancing at you. “Right?”

You shrugged. “I know nothing.”

Mary whined. “Oh, you’re no help.”

“If he wanted to shag ya, he woulda done it by now,” Marlene slurred, lightly punching Mary’s shoulder. “I would know.”

“Oh, shut up!” Mary huffed, punching her friend back. “That was five years ago-”

“Hey,” Remus said, approaching from behind you with a tight smile. The quiet chorus of girlish hellos answered him. He stopped next to you, specifically looking just at you. “Hi. Alright?”

You met his gaze and nodded quietly, “Yeah.”

The girls continued talking, ignoring his interruption. You tried to listen back to what they were saying, but Remus’ hand met your bicep in a gentle squeeze, pulling you away slightly.

“Can I talk to you?” He asked, lips close to your ear.

Your eyes met Lily’s for a fleeting second, a look of help me flashing in yours as Lily lightly shook her head.

“S-sure,” you mumbled, pulling away from him. You took a step away from the group, waiting for his explanation.

“We’re uh- we’re just going to go have a ciggy quick. Cheers ladies,” he said, and he grabbed your clammy hand, pulling you out of the pub.

You could just walk away. You could completely ignore him and just walk home. You wanted to, but your feet wouldn’t let you, planting you near the wall next to him.

Remus dropped your hand then lit his cigarette, leaning against the wall and blowing out smoke. He glanced at you, then looked down, obviously contemplating what he was going to say. “I- I’m sorry about um… About not calling you? I lost your number, and-”

You nodded, hardly hearing him over your heart pounding in your ears, puffing a small laugh through your nose. “I’ve never heard that one before-”

“It’s not like that,” Remus huffed over you.

You chuckled, feeling the panic in your chest crescendo as you removed yourself from the wall to pace in front of him, “I’ve been rejected before, Remus. It’s not that big a deal.”

“I never rejected-”

“It’s fine, okay?! It’s fine!” You laughed to yourself, your fingers meeting your temple with a dull rub as you stopped pacing. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to fucking come,” you muttered, turning toward the pub door.

“You didn’t want to come because- because of me?” Remus guawaffed, his eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t reject you!”

“No, it’s fine.” Your fingertips met the bridge of your nose as you paused, trying to make yourself not cry. You huffed softly, facing him again. “Look, okay? I’m stupid, and I shouldn’t have ever given you my number, alright? Just forget about it, alright? It’s fine. I-I should’ve known that something like… like this-” you gestured between the two of you, your voice shaking. “-would never work.”

“Like what?” Remus’ cigarette was abandoned, the coal working its way slowly toward the filter.

“I like you,” you admitted, still looking at him. “A-and I know that sounds stupid because love at first sight is fucking- fucking fairytale shit, but I thought that maybe you thought the same things that I thought about you and that maybe it would work, but-”

“What do you mean?! I like you, I just lost-” He started, trying to take your hand in his.

The panic quickly turned to anger as you ripped your hand away from him.

“Look at us, Remus! We’d be wasting our precious time!” you shouted harshly over him, your hand flying in the air. “You’re a bloody wizard!” you hissed at him. “And I’m not! I-I… I can’t do any of the things that you can do.”

“That doesn’t matter-”

“But it does, and that’s why I’m saying to forget about the whole fucking thing, okay?” You turned away from him, walking back toward the pub door. “Just forget about it.”

“I like you!” He raised his voice, catching your shoulder. “I don’t want to just forget!”

You whipped around to face him, pushing his hand off your shoulder. “You’re just saying that because you feel bad for me,” you said, your teeth ground together.

Remus huffed. “I lost your number.” He enunciated every word, his jaw clenched. “I already told you that.”

“You could’ve gotten it from Lily,” You countered loudly, gesturing toward the building where you knew she was still having the fun she had promised you. “You could’ve rang Lily up and specifically fucking asked her-”

“I did!” He shouted, startling you. You shut your mouth, blinking owlishly. “I asked her,” he said, quieter this time. “But, as you know, they moved about a month ago and she misplaced her phone book, and couldn’t remember it off the top of her head.” Tentatively, Remus held both your biceps, leveling with you so that he could look you right in the eye. He let out a shaky breath, and softly said, “I wanted to call you. Honestly… I-I wanted to show up at your flat with- with flowers o-or something, but that would’ve made me look-”

“Creepy,” you whispered pointedly, nodding. “I get it.”

He dropped your arms, looking away from you with his jaw still clenched. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said earnestly. “I just… I just like you, okay? And I wanted to get my point across, but you weren’t listening, and-”

You could feel yourself begin to well up, and it wasn’t because he yelled at you. You yelled at him, and he hadn’t even done anything wrong. Your panic had gotten the best of you. It was a genuine misunderstanding, just like Lily told you. You were wrong about him, yet again.

Instead of hearing him out, you walked quickly back into the pub, ignoring the way he called your name as he tried to catch up to you.

“I’m going home,” you said thickly as soon as you found Lily.

“Are you crying?” She asked, pulling you toward her. “What happened?”

“Lily, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You said shakily, your mouth pressing into a line. “I just want to go home.”

“Do you want me to walk-”

“No,” you answered, wiping tears off your cheeks as you looked over your shoulder. “Just distract him, okay? I don’t need him following me.”

Lily’s eyebrows furrowed, but she nodded.

“I’ll call you later, okay?” You said, quickly kissing her cheek. “I love you.”

You didn’t even let her respond as you rushed through the crowd, leaving through the back door of the pub.

You felt like a complete idiot. You had made an ass out of yourself, and you were convinced that now none of them liked you due to what you did to their friend.

You couldn’t believe yourself. He had admitted his feelings for you, and you blew up in his face. Your heart sunk to the bottom of your stomach, joining the sour ache that made its home there two months ago.

Remus liked you, and you ruined it.

You stopped, looking up at the nearly moonless sky, sighing out the breath you had been holding in.

“Fucking idiot,” you muttered, and continued on your way home. Alone.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x muggle!fem!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin angst #i'm not in love #harvest moon

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netherfeildren · 2 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it.

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves.

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady.

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon.

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull.

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set.

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right.

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped.

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him.

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything.

The two of you, like grief and the mountain.

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself.

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be.

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled.

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking.

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs.

A friend, indeed.

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots.

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?”

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were?

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face.

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one.

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you.

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship.

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand.

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe.

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk.

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small.

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can.

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts.

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down.

“What’ve I told you?” He barks.

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian.

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame.

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his.

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate.

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially.

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years.

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly.

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face.

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins.

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest.

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes.

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go.

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.”

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company.

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night.

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated.

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue.

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half.

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man.

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly.

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep.

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it.

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward.

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears.

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal.

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly.

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here.

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions.

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber.

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons.

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now.

Your desire.

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?”

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still.

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again.

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher.

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically.

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now.

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor.

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that—

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man.

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive.

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand.

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting.

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words.

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive.

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust.

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want.

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does.

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.”

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs.

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh.

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you.

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display.

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury.

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence.

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.”

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him.

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact.

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls.

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him.

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand.

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears.

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard.

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter.

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before.

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it.

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him.

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue.

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String.

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other.

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid.

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you.

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight.

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath.

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles.

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself.

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

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haydenigmatic · 11 months

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You are the King’s third child, a Princess/Prince third in line to the throne of the eight kingdoms,Third in line to the throne, you have nothing to worry about , well of course you have your lessons but not as extensive as your brothers because your older brother is the heir and even if something happened to him, there is your other big brother.

Maybe you will be a pawn for your father in a marriage alliance, However, who knows what the future holds, something or someone could ensure that your dynasty will be nothing more than dust and you will have to fight for the throne as the heir apparent, or maybe you won’t have to fight at all…

DEMO ✸ MOODBOARDS ✸ ASK ME ANYTHING YOU WANT ✸ FORUM ✸ PLAYLISTS ✸

RO's intro post: ✸ Aurelia/n✸Damon✸Doria/n✸Hanniel✸

✸ Jasira✸ Nesrin ✸ Odette ✸ Sorin ✸ Verena ✸

Play as a Princess/Prince of a powerful dynasty.

Variety of dialogue depending on your gender

Find love among nine characters of whom two are gender selectable

Manipulate, or genuinely care for your people

Bond with creatures that used to be extinct

Blurry the line between good and bad

Form alliances to win the crown

Do anything to survive at court

♢ Lady/Lord Aurelia/Aurelian Mezzei (She/her - He/him) 2 years older than MC

Aurelia/n is a proud and skilled adventurer with a free-spirited nature, always yearning for new experiences and the freedom of the open road. Beneath their composed exterior, they possess a kind heart and a rational mind, but can become a formidable force when provoked.

"The world is a tapestry, woven with threads of wonder and complexity. With each step, I strive to unravel its mysteries and add my own vibrant colors."

♢ Lady/Lord Doria/Dorian Muriel (She/her - He/him) 3 years older than MC

Doria/n is a complex and enigmatic individual, shrouded in a veil of cynicism and guardedness. Their ruthless actions and lack of remorse paint them as a hardened figure, while their hidden heart of gold and capacity for loyalty reveal a deeper layer beneath the surface. They navigate life with a cautious scepticism, harbouring deep-seated wounds and a relentless desire for self-preservation.

"There's no room for sentimentality or second chances in my life. Once you cross me, there's no going back."

♢ Hanniel (Connell) Almlinger (He/him) 4 years older than MC

Hanniel is a chivalrous and principled knight, driven by a strong sense of justice and an unwavering dedication to doing what is right. Despite the shame he feels as a bastard, he possesses a warm and compassionate heart, and his experiences have shaped him into a resilient and empathetic individual.

"The measure of a person's worth is not determined by their birthright, but by the content of their character."

♢ Lord Damon Lavone (He/him) 4 years older than MC

Damon is a charismatic and ambitious knight, driven by a relentless pursuit of glory and recognition. His privileged background as the heir to the second wealthiest man in The Eight Kingdoms, combined with his natural talent and captivating presence, has made him a captivating legend and a force to be reckoned with. Beneath his confident exterior lies a fiercely loyal and protective nature, willing to go to great lengths for the ones he loves.

"To be ordinary is a fate worse than death. I was destined for greatness, and I will leave my mark on this world. Remember my name, for it will be whispered in awe and reverence."

♢ Lady Jasira Oursbar (She/her) 2 years older than MC

Jasira is a fiercely independent and outspoken individual, unafraid to challenge societal expectations and fight for what she believes in. As the daughter of a northern duke, she defies the traditional role of a lady, embodying strength, determination, and a rebellious spirit. With a background rooted in nobility, Jasira carries a deep sense of loyalty and a strong connection to her heritage, guiding her actions and shaping her unwavering pursuit of justice.

"I'd rather live a life of freedom and danger than one of safety and confinement."

♢ Lady Nesrin Parovus (She/her) 1 year older than MC

Nesrin is a cunning and intelligent individual, skilled in the art of manipulation and strategic thinking. Born into nobility as the daughter of one of the seven dukes, she exudes grace and elegance while harbouring a hidden depth of ambition and determination. With her background of privilege and a mind shaped by political intrigue, Nesrin is a formidable force, always three steps ahead in the game of power.

"There's nothing more satisfying than outmaneuvering someone who thought they had the upper hand."

♢ Lady Odette Lavone (She/her) 1 year younger than MC

Odette is a compassionate and idealistic individual, driven by a strong sense of empathy and a desire for justice. With her noble background as the daughter of one of the seven dukes, she possesses elegance and grace, often regarded as the epitome of a court lady. Her genuine kindness and unwavering devotion make her a steadfast ally and a beacon of hope in a complex and sometimes treacherous world.

"Love is not just a fleeting emotion; it is a profound connection that binds us together. With each beat of my heart, I choose to love fiercely, fiercely enough to change the world."

♢ Sorin of Soirsa (She/her) 2 years older than MC

Sorin is a resilient and resourceful individual, shaped by a challenging past as an orphan and a former courtesan. With a guarded demeanour and an independent spirit, she navigates the world with a keen intellect and a knack for survival. Beneath her tough exterior lies a tender heart yearning for connection, a hidden vulnerability that only a select few are privileged to witness.

"Life may have dealt me a difficult hand, but I'll play it with audacious grace, turning adversity into art."

♢ Lady Verena Sarpe (She/her) Same age as MC

Verena is a captivating and ambitious noblewoman, known for her seductive allure and calculated strategies. Born into a distinguished family, she carries the weight of her tarnished reputation and navigates the intricate web of political power with cunning and determination. Behind her enchanting facade lies a complex soul yearning for genuine love, battling her own insecurities and the shadows of her past.

"Love is a delicate dance, and I have perfected the steps. But be warned, for the fire that burns within me is as treacherous as it is enchanting."

#interactive fiction #cog #if game #choice of games #interactive novel #if wip #interactive story #intro post #dashingdon #choicescript #hosted games #interactive game #romance #fantasy #medieval fantasy #IF #tbotd #cyoa #The Blood of the Dragon

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