#source: the dark artifacts

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter. 

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge. 

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game. 

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely). 

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

#DPxDC #dcxdp #Danny makes a card game to save the world. #Technically he worded the ritual so that they had to ‘beat’ him as those are the most powerful barriers and most reliable. #keys can just get lost or stolen (like the one to Pariah’s Coffin) #A riddle would be useless once someone figured out the answer. Like how no one takes the sphynx seriously anymore. #(Sorry Tuck. But it’s true). #And there is NO WAY Danny is just leaving a hole open for anyone to pass through. No thank you! #So…beating him. But it’s not like Danny wanted to fight so…he edited the ritual a TINY bit. Card games are good. Much less painful too. #Danny Tucker and Sam made the most complicated card game they could imagine. #It’s based on their strategies for fighting ghosts. Capturing them in thermoses. And MUCH based on a on field battle strategy. #It often requires spontaneous thinking on the spot. So Danny? In his ELEMNT. It doubles as practice for his actual ghost battles too. #They had SO much fun making this. #Sam added an entire series of plant cards that act as traps and healing ointments and duds that just take up the field. #Tucker added legitimate hyroglyphics combined with Latin as well as English and ghost speak. #Yes. You actually have to speak that language to play. With proper pronunciation. (Amity Parker’s think the three are talking gibberish.) #I headcanon Sam and Tucker are fluent in Ghost. #Constantine WILL figure this game out SO HELP HIM! #Some of the cards also have combinations related to constellations either in name or placement on the board. #By the way the board is based on a Hexagonal summoning circle with Rhunes along the edges #And the placement of the cards on the board and on what rhune MATTERS. #Also the cards move disintegrate and have certain abilities. Think of Harry Potter Wizard Chess. #But they are normal when Danny plays at school. This is just for ✨effect✨ Against invaders. #Danny faces multiple opponents. He also halts alien invasions. #While Danny COULD stop crime on earth he’s not sure how to fight a normal human and hold back so he sticks to ghosts. #The Justice league are going crazy trying to figure out who this entity is and after deep research are convinced this is some sort of #Ancient being who has protected earth for millenia. They have paintings on ruins and everything. #Danny is not aware they think this. #Raven starts praying to Danny as if he is a god and wrangles the other Teen Titans into doing so as well. Danny is still unaware of this. #Danny is not a King or an ancient. Just a very VERY strong ghost.

[snaileer]

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

#batman #danny phantom #batfam #dc #danny fenton #batman and robin #danny phantom crossover #young justice #bruce wayne #wonder woman #dpxdc #cryptid Danny fenton #John Constantine #Zatanna Zatara #dpdc #dp

[casualavocados]

Once a garden world nourished by the Bright Star artifact, [Mustafar's] orbit was shifted when Lady Corvax unleashed the energies of the Bright Star in an attempt to return her husband to life. The resulting gravimetric duel between the gas giants Jestefad and Lefrani over Mustafar heated the planet's core, transforming the lush world into an imbalanced volcanic hellscape. […] Legends of Corvax's search for immortality brought the ancient Sith to Mustafar, seeking the same secrets of eternal life. There, they built a temple over a locus in the dark side of the Force, above the buried ruins of Corvax Fortress. [source]

CONTENT CREATOR SECRET SANTA 2023: The History of Mustafar vs The Fall of Anakin Skywalker for @eathotchipandcry

#swedit #starwarsedit #star wars #prequels #anakin skywalker #darth vader #padme amidala #anakinskywalkeredit #darthvaderedit #prequelsedit #ccss2023 #userzhr #usernik #usersansa #userpegs #userjjessi #tuserhanna #*cajedit #*gif #flashing gif #i hope you like this!!! i had a lot of fun with the idea #my sister actually helped me brainstorm lore to work with since that's what you said you liked #and once i fixated on this parallel that was it i had to do it #i hope it looks good too aaah

[sokkadora]

something there — mizu x fem!spider-woman!reader

summary: landing in a new place, and time, leads to new experiences and friends… and a hot samurai?

a/n: mizu having a thing for competence and her s/o’s being capable of handling themselves babygirl i got that you want me!!!

wc: 1.6k

warning(s): injuries, mentions of gunshot wound, passing out from blood loss yippee!!!

ALSO REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN SO FEEL FREE TO ASK!! <3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

︿︿︿︿︿︿ ✎ᝰ . . . .

Your eyes shot open, the sudden cold chill of the snow beneath you shocked you into a sitting position. You ripped off your mask and panted, taking in your new surroundings.

You were still in your suit, which explained why you were so cold, but you were also in the middle of a dark forest. The snow seemed to cool the burning from the gunshot wound in your shoulder and the cut across your thigh, but it didn’t distract you from your entirely new surroundings.

The last thing you remember was being in New York, fighting some gang members who had stolen an artifact from the Sanctum Sanctorum… you’d taken a gunshot to the shoulder, which… ow. But anyway, you must’ve been thrown out of New York into… wherever you were now.

Shivering, you shakily got to your feet and steadied yourself against a tree. You needed to find warmer clothes, fast. You pulled the hood from your suit over your head and your mask back on for the sake of preserving body heat.

You attempted to be stealthily while stepping through the forest, not knowing what wild animals or people could in the darkness lingering beyond your eyes grasp.

After about 5 minutes of walking, you figured it would be better to scale up a tree to get some lay of the land. Maybe a city’s lights nearby to give you an idea of how far you hade to go until you reached some sign of civilization.

Placing your hand onto your eye level with the tree, you easily pulled yourself up and began scaling the tree. It took a minute to maneuver through all the branches with your injuries but upon reaching the top, you noticed a small clearing in the trees that was dimly lit, and you let out a sigh of relief.

After getting down, you corrected your course and started trekking towards your new destination. It took longer than expected because your injuries were slowing you down, but you webbed them up and continued over.

These people were sure to help you, you’re a well known super-hero. Spider-Woman, and if you were still around the vicinity of New York you should be alright…

Right?

It took until daybreak to reach your destination, you figured it would, but that didn’t make you pleased with how long you took.

Your hands were shaking profusely from the cold, and you were beginning to wish that you let Peter put the heater into your suit for days like this.

You heard rustling from a few yards ahead and scaled up the tree closest to you, your head spinning from the blood loss. You grunted softly, beginning to leap from branch to branch to get closer to the noise.

Finally, you made it a few trees away from the source, and were surprised to see a man dressed in… what looked like a chef uniform. You squinted behind your mask, watching as he cut off plants with the knife strapped to his wrist, since he didn’t have any hands.

You were about to get down yourself and approach him, but a nap just sounded… so… nice…

Ringo jumped at the sudden loud thud behind him, his humming being interrupted by a sudden gasp as he whipped around. He gulped nervously before rushing behind a tree, and peeking out from it.

He saw a figure laying motionless in the snow, that seemed to be non threatening, but the attire they donned was bizarre. Skin tight, covered their whole body… what were they?

Ringo cautiously held his knife out while stepping out from behind the tree and making his way to the body.

Were they already dead?

He gulped as he kneeled in front of the person, now clearly seeing that they’re a woman, nudging them with the arm not armed with a knife. After waiting a few more moments to confirm they were really passed out, he bit down on the dull side of his knife and placed it into his pack. He noticed the wound on their shoulder and thigh, along with smaller cuts through the clothing along the arms and torso. He carefully picked the limp body up, and began to carry them back to camp.

He knew Mizu wasn’t going to be thrilled with this new person joining, neither would Taigen, but they’d have to deal with it. He wasn’t going to leave a random woman out in the woods to die.

Upon arriving to camp, he noticed Taigen on the other side of the abandoned shrine writing something down on a piece of paper. Ringo slipped into the house from the far side to carry the body to the room Mizu was resting in.

He lowered the woman onto his futon, pulling the blanket up to just below her chin. He pulled off your mask successfully after a few attempts, and was shocked by your appearance. Mizu wasn’t in the room, but just as he was about to go looking, she stepped into the room.

Mizu’s gaze immediately fell to the figure on Ringo’s futon, a prominent frown taking place.

“Master, just listen-“

“Ringo, I can’t have anymore strays tagging along on this,” Mizu scolded, brushing past him to step over to you. Her anger paused quickly as she noticed how different you looked from them. “Who is..”

“I don’t know,” Ringo replied, stepping onto the other side of you and kneeling down, peeling off the blanket to reveal your injuries and strange clothing. Her eyes widened. “I was going to come find you to stitch up her wounds. I don’t want to encroach on her privacy since she’s a girl.”

Mizu sighed, her eyes shutting tightly. She was reluctant to do so at all, seeing as she doesn’t know you, and your attire was setting off alarm bells in her head. But she agreed, and Ringo took off his medical supplies and handed it to her before wandering off to make the medicine for when you woke up.

Your first meeting with Mizu after waking up was… interesting. She certainly didn’t act warm towards you, with her threatening you with a sword to the throat as soon as you sat up.

But after traveling with her since leaving Taigen behind, you’d began to slowly grow closer to her; more attached. She was distant at first, but slowly warmed up to you after finding yourselves in the same position.

Now, you found yourselves sparring in the middle of the woods before you hit another town the next day.

Mizu wanted to test out your spider sense; she had been intrigued by your powers since she’d first found out about them, wanting to test the limits of them, but not wanting to harm you on accident. She didn’t know how skilled you were yet.

She stood behind you and tied the blindfold over your eyes gently, making sure not to get your hair caught in the knot. She resisted the urge to let her hands wander across your taut shoulder muscles, not yet being willing to openly admire your looks.

“Alright, you’re set,” Mizu said, patting the top of your head before moving to stand a few yards in front of you from where you stood in the center of the clearing.

“If I get hurt, I’m gonna punch you,” You warn playfully, biting back a grin as you heard the sharp sound of Mizu’s sword unsheathing. You could practically feel her smirk as you remained still, but alert.

“Good thing I know what I’m doing then,” She rasped, making you swallow thickly.

The was lingering tension in the air as you heard Mizu’s footsteps go to the left, your enhanced sense cluing you in to her minuscule movements as you took a deep breath.

Before you could really tell with your own perception, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. Mizu had swung her sword skillfully at you from behind, barely grazing the hair flying from your braid as you ducked into a lunge, sliding away.

She huffed, impressed. And continued to slowly taunt you with her attacks, which you quickly dodged each time. Eventually she had sheathed her sword and began using her arms and legs to kick and swing, until you ended up pinning her against the ground, your thighs on either side of her waist.

You quickly brought your hands to her wrists, pinning them against the ground and smirking as you heard her grunting underneath you. After a moment of struggling, she groaned but you knew she enjoyed the round.

“You win, god,” She chuckled lowly. You released her wrists and tugged the blindfold off, grinning down at her.

“Not so bad, huh?” You smiled, raising an eyebrow at her as she let her hands fall onto your thighs.

“Not at all,” She returned the smile, trying her hardest to hide the warmth growing between her thighs at the thought and demonstration of your capabilities. “Is it… hot out here?”

You pursed your lips before laughing, getting off her waist. “Mizu, it’s snowing outside.” You scoffed playfully, rising to your feet.

She hummed bashfully, taking your hand when you offered to tug her back to her feet. She gazed down at you softly as you brushed off your haori, smiling proudly once it was rid of the frozen mud and snow flecks.

She couldn’t help but feel her gaze soften almost inevitably as she let herself lovingly look at you for a moment while you were distracted.

Reaching down, she softly touched the braid that was slung over your left shoulder, admiring your (h/c) hair gently. You looked down at her hand, eyes wide before you tilted your head up to look at her face.

Her eyes moved back to meet yours, and you forced the fluttering feeling in your stomach away with a smile.

“Round two?”

#mizu x reader #reader x mizu #mizu x you #you x mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #reader x blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai imagine #luzura writes #olive writes #zoe's works #my works

[golden-buddle]

@puppetmaster13u

——

The Bat was old. It was easy to see, especially with the numerous artifacts that covered Gotham. But, though the Bat was old- The Robins were young.

It started with a small pup, one that flew through the air with colors of Red, Green, Yellow, and Black.

The First of the Robins was bloodthirsty, a pup that grinned in the shadows of his mother, one that chirped and cheered when his mother shed blood and fear for him to feed on.

Though the pup was dangerous, he still was kind. And since he was much smaller than his ferocious mother, he was able to sneak away.

And sneak away he did. Often, the little bird would creep away from his mother, crooning to the victims and feeding off of the remnants of their fear as his mother shredded those who hurt his City.

But like most young children- Robin eventually grew up.

His colors darkened, falling away as the small blood thirsty bird grew fangs. Colors faded, darkening and shifting until only electric blues and blacks remained. The First Robin became a new bird- A Nightingale, and oh did he Sing like his namesake.

The Nightingale would croon, would sing, would talk, and when he talked- people found themselves lost to even themselves. Unable to stop themselves as they followed the now grown Alpha who had become almost as terrifying as his mother.

It was then that a new bird hit the streets, one that was said to have come from the Nightingale’s long shed feathers.

It’s said that when the colors faded, that when each color finally dwindled into blacks and blues, more Robins, more Birds came to life.

Each color that the first Robin shed came to life in their own right, with their own thirst for the fear that their Mother and elder Brother fed on.

The first to appear was the Cardinal, the one who came to life with as much blood-blood-blood as it left this world with.

The second was the Crow, the one who came to life under the Bat’s grief and the First Robin’s anger.

The third was Starling, but unlike the others, she found herself unhappy with the remaining colors. So she left, following the steps of the Cuckoo to become a Bat rather than a bird before settling into something entirely new.

The forth was, and still is, hidden- unknown but talked about in hushed voices from those who are brave enough to sneak up on the pack that protected the city. Though the Forth hasn’t been seen quite yet, the air drips with rumors about the forth Robin being a Drake, one that clad themselves in the dark greens that once covered their source.

Each Robin, each bird, the Bat took in gleefully.

The Bat cared for each of his hatchlings like any other omega- But protected them with enough fury that blood dripped from his talons and mouth.

#Cryptid Batfamily #Cryptid Batman #Cryptid Batfamily AU #Alpha/Beta/Omega #Omegaverse #My Writing #IRL stuff has gotten me too worked up to be able to bap ideas back and forth #so uh #have this tini ficlet! #not my best work but something that has been banging around my head since we first started talking

[rinixo]

someday

Din Djarin/Reader | 4.5k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, smut, oral sex, vaginal fingering, resolved sexual tension

After a wedding, desires they have kept at bay spill forth. There's no coming back from this.

read on ao3

After three days of trekking through a misty, muddy forest, you were looking forward to a hot shower and a meal. Your feet hurt from stumbling down rocky hillsides and your back hurt from carrying your pack, now filled to the brim with artifacts from the ruins you had plundered.

You, Din, and Grogu had landed on this outer rim planet just about four days ago, seeking some ruins that your sources told you may be connected to the Jedi. Initially, the three of you were going to explore the ruins together but Din had been wrangled into helping a local settlement with a problem.

As you disembarked the ship days earlier, a young woman had hurried towards your small party, a frantic look on her face. She had explained that her fiancée had been recently kidnapped and was being held for ransom by a local crime lord, and she begged for assistance. The town had pooled together the ransom funds, but past experiences with the criminals had shown that they most likely would not have honored their terms. Thus, the woman’s plea for the armored Mandalorian to rescue her fiancée and deal with the crime lord and his goons once and for all.

Din had been hesitant at first, but at your insistence had agreed to help. You felt bad for the young woman – named Tineke, you later found out – and knew you wouldn’t have been able to alleviate your guilt if you or Din had refused. Privately, the two of you decided that Din would go after the criminals while you journeyed to the ruins to find what you could. Tineke had offered to keep an eye on Grogu while you were out.

According to your maps, the ruins were about a two-day hike from your current location, hidden in caves the Crest would not have been able to land near. Similarly, the crime lord’s hideout was two days in the opposite direction. The locals had told you that the ruins were considered haunted and were thus rarely ever approached by sentient beings. That suited you just fine – you were not particularly superstitious and knew the rumors would only help ensure a safe journey there and back. Din was less than enthused at the prospect of you wandering off on your own, but the promise of the ransom funds as a reward helped to sweeten the deal and convince him to let you go. The Crest needed some repairs, and fuel was expensive and hard to come by out here in the outer rim. Credits were always welcome.

Thankfully, you were right and your journey was uneventful. The most exciting thing that happened was you scaring yourself with your own shadow while in the caves and slipping in mud after a rainstorm. Now, as you approached the town, you were eager to clean up and see Din and Grogu. The thick forests and rocky cliffs had made your short-range communicators mostly ineffective, but you had remained in contact in what ways you could over the last few nights. Din had installed a mod onto your wrist comm that allowed the two of you to send pulses that vibrated when you touched them. The two of you had come up with a kind of secret code, where around the same time each night you would send an ‘I’m ok’ pulse and he would send one in return. If either of you failed to respond, it would signal something was wrong. Thankfully nothing had yet to go wrong, and it was nice to have a reminder that you weren’t alone during the dark nights.

You had expected Din would have finished his task and returned faster than you had – benefits of having a jetpack – and based on the excited chattering you could hear from the town center you guessed right. Before you had left the locals had skittered from place to place nervously, always looking over their shoulders. Now there were people out everywhere, and it looked like they were planning some kind of celebration. Lights and streamers hung from building to building, wrapped around trees, and you could smell something delicious cooking. It was quite the sight.

Squeezing through the crowd, you murmured apologies as you searched for Din or Tineke. You quickly found them both, along with Grogu and another young woman held close at Tineke’s side. All four of them turned towards you as you approached, and you smiled at Grogu’s pleased squeal at your arrival.

“You’re back!” Tineke exclaimed. She came forward and surprised you with a tight embrace. You looked over her shoulder at Din, who offered a half-shrug in response. Tineke then let you go and pulled the other young woman towards you.

“This is Galina, my beloved,” she introduced the two of you. Galina proffered a shy smile, hand clasped tightly in Tineke’s. “The bounty hunter rescued her and banished the crime lord and his people.”

“Banished?” You mused, mouth curving into a half-smile. Din sighed. You were enjoying the young woman’s excited if not somewhat exaggerated enthusiasm, even if he was not.

“Yes!” Tineke said, eyes shining. “And I’m so glad you’re back – we were just talking and I just insist that you stay for our wedding celebrations. It’s the least we can do to repay you.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow, intrigued. Behind the excited couple, you could see Din shake his head ‘no’. Attending any kind of celebration wasn’t exactly up his alley, but you were tired, and muddy, and it was getting late.

“I’m sure we can spare a few hours,” you agreed, and the two young women squealed with happiness. Din sighed again, and you cast him a reproachful look.

“Is there somewhere I can clean up?” You asked. Galina explained that her family was already setting aside rooms for your small party in thanks for her rescue and that you could bathe and change into clean clothes there before joining the celebration. She led you towards her home, and you stepped tiredly behind her, Din joining you shortly after.

“Really?” He asked, and you scoffed.

“Just for a few hours?” You asked. “I haven’t showered in three days and having a real ‘fresher sounds great. Plus free food, Din, you can’t argue with that.”

Another sigh was your response, and you knew you had won the argument. You pulled your pack to your front and opened it up to show him what you had found.

“Besides, it’ll take me a bit to decipher these,” you explained. Din took the pack from you and carefully looked over your findings.

“Very well,” he conceded.

--

An hour or so later, you were drying your hair as Galina’s sister – a heavily pregnant woman named Lin – laid out several outfit options for you. She chatted excitedly the whole time, about her husband, her sister’s wedding, and what color of gown would match your eyes best.

“How long have you and the Mandalorian been together?” Lin asked as you allowed her to help you wrap the simple yet elegant fabric around your body. You coughed awkwardly.

“Oh, no, we’re not together, not like that,” you corrected, and Lin threw you a knowing glance. “We’re…just friends. Traveling companions.”

Lin huffed out a short laugh. “Oh of course,” she replied. “My Nilo and I were just friends once, and well –“ She patted her swollen belly, and you tried not to flush at her insinuation.

“He has a creed,” you tried to explain, but she was quite sure of herself and merely cast you more knowing looks as you finished dressing. You decided not to argue with her, as the truth of your relationship with Din was complicated even for you.

There was something there, you’d bet on it. Though you had never seen his face, you could sometimes feel his stare on you. There were moments when the two of you were closer than just traveling companions would be, though he always seemed to pull back at the last moment. A gloved hand on your back that would creep just a little too low, a prolonged tap on your thigh to get your attention. Once, on the edge of sleep, you had just been barely aware of him standing near your cot before he pulled your blanket up to cover your bare shoulder, and the brush of his hand still made you shiver.

It was driving you wild, and yet you could not summon the bravery needed to breach the gap. You were so sure there was something there, but the fear of rejection stayed your own hand. Part of you knew that you’d never really know unless that gap was bridged, but out of respect and a desire to not make living together on the cramped ship awkward you always hesitated.

Lin declared you dressed and ready, bringing you out of your solemn thoughts. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, pleased with how the fabric clung to your curves. Patting your hair, Lin instructed you to go downstairs to join the celebrations.

You trounced down the stairs and made your way out into the cool evening air. All around you lights glittered, the air heavy with the smell of incense. It was quite the change from the fearful first impression the town had given three days ago.

You looked around for Din and found him off to the side of the main plaza. He was leaning up against the side of the building, arms crossed as he watched Grogu run around with some local children. As you approached, you appreciated the way his armor caught the light, noticing not for the first time that he cut quite the figure.

“He seems to be enjoying himself,” you said in greeting as you joined the bounty hunter. His helmet dipped in acknowledgment, and you stood in an easy silence as you watched Grogu play. Further ahead, the wedding party was settling under a large tree that marked the center of town. The sound of strings and bells started, and the crowd let out a series of cheers as music beckoned people out to dance.

The newly wedded couple were the first to venture out. Even from this distance you could see the adoration in how Tineke and Galina circled each other. Gradually others joined them in the dance, and you looked over toward Din.

“Do Mandalorians dance?” You asked, half-teasing.

Din shook his head. “My covert never did,” he said shortly. “Not much cause for celebration.”

You hmm’d in response. “That’s too bad.”

A pause, before Din spoke again. “Do you?”

“Do I dance?” You asked, and he nodded. You smiled and twirled in response. He turned his head slightly to watch you and the way the fabric swirled around your hips and legs.

“A little, and not well,” you laughed. “But it’s fun, when I do get the chance.”

His gaze lingered on you for half a breath longer before he tipped his head toward the crowd. “You should go. Have fun.”

You glanced in that direction, heart sinking just a little. “A-alright,” you replied. “See…see you later?”

He nodded again in response, and you let yourself wander into the crowd and sink into the rhythm of the sound and movement, and tried to forget your aching heart for a few moments.

--

Din’s gaze wandered between the child playing in the dirt and the girl dancing under the twinkling lights. Even in the crowd, he could pick her out easily – the way her hair looked in the warm light, the way her gown hugged her waist. All things he hoped to imprint into his mind.

He had thought you beautiful for a while, but you were truly breathtaking here, under the stars. He watched as you spun around, that easy grin on your lips. A local man – a boy, truly – came forward to take your hands and he could hear your laugh as you let him twirl you. He clenched his fists, not used to needing an outlet for the feelings in his chest. Jealousy, desire – all fairly foreign to him until you had entered his life.

Din almost wondered if you could tell how he felt towards you. He often found himself staring at you, studying the way your brow furled in confusion at some complicated equation. He had begun to memorize the way it felt to pass his hand along your back, to the curve of your waist, and the way you’d look up at him as he did so. He liked how the refresher smelled like your soap after you finished bathing.

This was the first time the two of you had been separated by different objectives, and the entire time you were apart he had fought the urge to constantly check in to make sure you were safe. He knew you were smart and resourceful, but the idea of you being hurt or lost made him almost sick with worry. Each night he would send you a pulse through your communicator, and his heart would pound each second it took to feel your response.

Seeing you again in town, safe and successful, had made a weight slide off his shoulders. If it were anyone else he would have insisted on not staying for this party, but he was becoming increasingly susceptible to your desires. A year ago he would have scoffed in the face of the Mando that would agree to attend a backwater town’s wedding celebration – but the Mando from a year ago didn’t know you.

“Having fun?” A cheery voice snapped him out of his reverie. The pregnant woman from earlier, he didn’t catch her name, had come out of the crowd to join him. She fanned herself with a paper fan, one hand caressing her stomach gently.

Din grunted in response, not feeling particularly chatty. The woman sent him a gleaming smile, and a tinge of mischief was in her eye.

“That’s a pretty girl you’ve got,” she pointed her fan in the direction of the crowd where you continued to dance. “Surprised you’d let other men get so close.”

“She’s not mine,” Din bit back. “She is free to dance with whomever she wishes.”

“She wishes it was you,” the woman challenged. She pursed her lips, a tone of authority in her voice.

“You rescued my sister, and gave us this night,” she continued. “So let me give you some advice in return, bounty hunter. If you don’t take the chance, someone else will. A beautiful young girl like that…you’ll run out of chances sooner or later.” With that, she snapped her fan shut and bid him farewell before wandering back into the crowd.

Din watched her go, throat dry, knowing she was right. He had deluded himself into feeling content with what he felt, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before you would move on and he’d be left with the ‘what-ifs.’

--

Hours later, you stumbled into the small but comfortable room set aside for you, cheeks flushed from the dancing and feasting. You hummed to yourself softly as you began to prepare for bed, the low light of a lamp casting dancing shadows across the walls.

You hadn’t seen Din since you had left to join the crowd earlier. You guessed he had dipped out early with Grogu, and while you were somewhat disappointed you understood. His room was directly across from yours, and you had knocked softly as you returned to let him know you were back as well. There had been no answer, and so you resigned yourself to rest until daylight. No doubt Din would want to be off as soon as dawn arrived.

The soft ‘click’ of the door opening and closing made you turn, and you saw Din standing just inside your doorway. His bulk took up most of the entrance, and you cast him a small frown.

“Oh, did I wake you?” You apologized, hands dropping from where they had started to undo the fabric of your gown. “I didn’t mean to. I’m fine.”

“You didn’t,” Din replied, and then was silent again. You raised a brow, confusion apparent on your face.

“Oh.” You waited for a few heartbeats for him to say why he was here. If he was just checking on you, he would have left by now, right?

“Do you…need something?” You asked, and in response, he stepped slowly towards you. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous. He stopped just in front of you, hands twitching nervously at his side.

“Your gown,” he stated. “It looks – you look good.” Din’s voice was soft, and so was the touch he gave you as he raised a gloved hand to brush over your shoulder. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Din?” You whispered. His hand stayed hovering over your shoulder, and there was a tension in the air – between the two of you, and in the way he seemed to both want to pull away and move in closer.

Slowly, as if you were trying not to startle a wild animal, your hand come up to touch his. He watched as you gently pulled off his glove and set it to the side. Your bare skin brushed against his, and you smiled at the softness of it.

You pressed your palm against his and wondered at how neatly they fit together. You knew your hands were smaller than his, but seeing them like this honed in on the difference.

Gently, you folded his fingers down and brought them to your lips. You both heard and felt how Din’s voice hitched at the touch, and you closed your eyes as you directed his hand to your shoulder where the clasp of your gown was.

Understanding, Din began to undress you. He carefully unwound the fabric, a sort of measured hesitation in his movements. His hand drifted from one shoulder over your collarbone to the other and guided the cloth down over your breasts. Eyes still closed, you huffed out a small sigh as he grazed soft fingers over the peak of your breast, hardening nipples brushing over his palm as he let the gown drop to your hips.

You let yourself move closer as he pushed the fabric all the way down so that it pooled around your legs. Even through the helmet the feeling of him staring at your bare form burned deliciously. You fought the urge to cover yourself – not out of embarrassment, but from the pure blaze of attention you felt from him.

Taking his other hand, you pulled off the glove and brought it to the center of your chest. You held it there, looking up into the T of his visor, wondering if he could feel the way your heart pounded under your ribcage.

“What are you thinking?” Din asked you softly. You blinked up at him through your lashes.

“I wish I could kiss you,” you admitted, and heard his answering sigh and felt his fingers graze softly against your skin. He tilted his head forward and you followed so that your forehead and the front of his helmet met gently.

“I know,” he husked. Taking your hand, he tugged you towards the low bed in the corner of the room, turning out the light on the way. The room was plunged into darkness until your eyes settled a few moments later. You couldn’t see more than the vague outline of his figure as the two of you settled down onto the soft blankets.

He laid you out there, hands stroking softly up and down your body. You wondered if he could see you clearly through his helmet.

“Someday,” he promised.His hand stroked your cheek gently before it came down over your neck and collarbone. You relaxed into the sheets and let out a pleased sigh as his hand brushed over the plush weight of your breasts. He rolled your nipples in his fingers, and you arched sweetly into the tug of it. While one hand continued to tease you there, the other crested down your stomach, dipping briefly into your belly button before spreading wide over your lower pelvis.

“Open,” he commanded breathlessly, and you obeyed without question. Parting your trembling thighs, you keened softly as the hand not occupied with your breasts slid down to cup your center. Two fingers slid between your lips to find you wet and wanting, and they rolled over your clit slowly.

“Very good,” Din praised, and you smiled. His fingers dipped into the wetness dripping from your pussy, coming back up to slick over your slowly swelling clit. Biting your lip, you resisted the urge to roll your hips into his touch.

He stroked you methodically, purposefully. Wholly interested in your pleasure, he delighted in the way your breath left you in soft gasps. He spread your thighs a little wider and slid two fingers up into you so that you had no choice but to arch up and roll into it.

You scrunched up your face at the stretch of it paired with the firm pressure he was applying to your clit. Din grasped the leg closest to him and brought it to lay over his thigh so that you were spread even more, your hips lifted at an angle. He fucked you with his fingers and you reached out, grasping at what armor you could reach.

“Yes,” you groaned, and he answered you with a particularly rough push of his fingers. “Just-just there, please –“

“Anything for you,” he answered. “Anything you want, beautiful, wet, tight girl –“

His fingers curve, poking at that spot inside you that made you feel bottomless. You wanted more, wanted to feel your cunt stretch around him. You didn’t realize that your fevered thoughts were spilling out into nearly incoherent rambling until you heard him answering.

“I know, I know,” he placated, the hand not playing with your slit coming up to brush over your parted mouth. “I want it too, sweet girl, I want you so badly – you have no idea what you’re doing to me –“

You dart your tongue out to meet his fingers and your stomach coils at the sound that comes from him when you suck on them.

“Fuck me, Din,” you beg, and he groans.

“Not yet,” he crooned, hand not once letting up from its intense pace. “Someday, not yet, come on baby – “

You arch further as your stomach curls and your leg goes numb. You are on the precipice of orgasm, pleading with voice and body for Din to let you fall over the edge.

He obliges you, like he said he would, and murmurs filthy praise as you shake and clench on his hand. Your legs snap close before he forces them open again, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your puffy clit to prolong your release.

You lose your voice in the height of it and come crashing back down on waves of liquid heat. Your eyes flutter open, eyesight blurred, and you look down your body at where his large hand is still cupped over your aching cunt.

“Din,” you plead, and his head snaps from where it was focused on his hand to your face. You blink wetly at him, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He wasn’t going to. He was pleased enough with being able to touch you, feel you, and have you come undone at his hands. Maker, he could die happy having done that. But the way your eyes begged, blown dark and wide with pleasure, made that last rope of resistance snap.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and rolled so he was covering your body with his. You molded yourself up against his, rolling your hips to feel where his cock lay – hard and throbbing for you. Your hands came up to tug on his shoulders, and he dipped his head down next to your neck as he ground his hips into yours.

“L-let me touch you,” you begged. “Please –“ you pushed against his shoulders to roll him back over, switching places so that you were in between his thighs. His helmeted head leaned up to look at you, cock twitching as your shaking hands went to his belt.

You wasted no time in undoing the clasp and pulling down his trousers enough to pull his cock out. It was heavy and hot in your hands, and a throb of pleasure shot through you at the size of it, the thought of how well it would fill you up.

Someday, you echoed his earlier promise before dipping your head to lathe your tongue over him. Din groaned in response, head falling back to hit the mattress. His cock jumped in your hand and you hummed around him as you began to work to take him as deep into your mouth as you could.

You could feel how his thighs trembled. His cock leaked pre-spend, the salty taste of it coating your tongue as you ran it up and down his length.

“Fuck,” Din cried hoarsely. The number of times he had imagined your lips around his cock failed to compare to the feeling of you wet and hot between his legs. He wanted to taste you in turn, and told you so through gritted teeth.

You moaned at his words, the vibration of it adding to the man’s cresting pleasure. One hand came down to tangle at your hair, tugging and stroking in time with your own pace. The other he used to prop himself up on one elbow – he wanted to see you there, between his thighs, taking his cock in your mouth.

“Maker you look so fucking good,” he rasped.  “Fuck, gonna come down your throat, pretty girl – fuck –

Your hands squeezed him at his base as you lowered your mouth further, spittle dripping out from where your lips were wrapped around him. The sound of it was filthy – his groans, your choked moans around his length, the slick of your hand stroking him hard and fast.

His hips twitched as he edged closer – not quite fucking your face, but enough to signal his desperation. You loved the way his hands tightened on your scalp, loved the way he was coming undone underneath you.

Din pulsed in your mouth, and you hollowed your cheeks to suck once more before he husked out a series of curses, coming down your throat. His hips bucking, his abdomen tight as he groaned all the way through it. You swallowed it all, hand and mouth not leaving him until you lapped up the last of his spend

You looked up at him. His hand was still your hair, your lips and chin soaked from your own spit and his release. Both of you were panting – soft gasps in the cool air of the dark room

He rasped your name, hand coming down from your scalp to trace the curve of your cheekbone. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, climbing up his body to lay against him, skin prickling where it touched cold beskar. He stroked your head and face as you laid a flushed cheek against his chest. His other hand stroked down your bare back, tracing imperceptible patterns.

The dam had been breached. Both of you were satisfied, but both wanted more.

“Someday,” he murmured again as if he could read your mind. “I promise.”

 --

a/n: part 2??... perhaps（´∀`)

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #mando smut #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #din djarin #din x reader

[yourneighborhoodporg]

Hello! Could I request an obi wan x reader x anakin fic where the reader is a force sensitive Jedi? They have to go undercover for a mission and ani and obi are awestruck/distracted by reader in flattering clothes (that aren’t Jedi robes) and it makes them both realize their feelings :) feel free to make it a lemon if you want

Little Red Dress

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader x Anakin Skywalker

Warnings: Jealousy, Reader in Alluring Clothing, Brothel Setting, Some Life-Threatening Danger, Light Violence, Creepy(ish) Fella, Soft Smut (Minors DNI), all characters are over 18, Anakin Threatening Murder TM (why am I even surprised 😂), light banter, fluff, alcohol is around, boys being worried, HEAVY FLIRTING.

Song Inspo: Red Dress — MAGIC!

A/n: This took me way too long to get to lol 💀 Absolutely love this request idea which made it so fun to write. Wasn’t sure which gender you wanted for the reader so I made them female-identifying. This is my first request and short (lol) fic so please let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy :)

Words: 8.1k

She was built like a dream — Joseph Heller

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker were… uncomfortable.

Not because Master Yoda himself had tasked the three of you with this urgent mission to the Outer Rim. Nor was it due to the cloudy, dark, and incessantly rainy atmosphere that was Morlana One’s Leisure Zone— its backstreets dotted by the occasional lifeless streetlight that just barely reflected off the puddles below, paving the two Jedi a glimmering path toward the local brothel.

No. It wasn’t any of that at all.

Instead, they felt a foreign existence within their own bodies, with each nearing step toward the club’s shadowy entrance, on account of the perplexing, and frankly alien, wears that sheened their limbs.

Of course, they never had any styling choice in the matter. Not for an assignment like this, where the elimination of Jedi symbols was expected.

Because this was a mission that required a gentler, more covert hand.

Because this was a mission that had you all undercover.

Nearly 72 hours ago, unknown assailants had broken into one of the Jedi Temple’s artifact rooms. From the emergency cache, they’d stolen seven Kyber crystals, which were always held at the ready in case a Jedi needed a temporary saber after damaging or misplacing their own.

A facility Anakin took advantage of too many times to count.

But, on this occasion, the Order could only count themselves lucky that The Chosen One had again somehow lost his lightsaber during a short mission to the Coruscant Underworld, requiring him to report to that very same artifacts chamber for a replacement before he could continue his search down into the planet’s murky depths. By chance, the chestnut-haired Jedi had arrived just in time to witness that the usually locked, ornate wooden door was notably ajar. And, with further investigation, that the krystals’ storage chest had been ransacked.

With Council Member Master Kenobi assigned to the inquiry, he quickly learned from a few trustworthy sources, including his old friend Dex, that the crystals were flown off-world to be sold at auction. To a seedy establishment in the Morlani System, no less. All with an undetectability and swiftness that duped not only the inter-District and planetary departure security systems, but the Jedi Temple’s once-thought-impregnable apparatus as well.

Evidently, Master Yoda had found that this operation met a sophistication not often seen among the ranks of disparate pirates or common thieves. It was why, after Kenobi came to him with this information, the Grand Master decided that the bearded man and Jedi Knight who discovered the robbery would be assigned to retrieve these precious artifacts. Placing an emphasis on the need to arrive undercover, lest this sordid enterprise catch wind of a group of creeping, saber-wielding Jedi.

They just couldn’t risk it.

Any action like that would certainly force this gang to race underground once again, crystals in tow, before the Jedi had a chance to recover them.

So, the Council supplied Obi-Wan and Anakin with clothes of the region’s elite, aiming to disguise them both as potential buyers.

Kenobi, a black dress uniform with gold, reflective embellishments suffocating his suit jacket while fueling his growing desire to remain hidden within the shadows as it converted his torso into a glinting beacon under the passing lights. And Skywalker, a simpler, but equally sophisticated gray suit atop a pearly white button-down that screamed conformity louder than Anakin could voice his displeasure.

Still, leaving the crystals’ fate up to whether this gang would accept Republic Credits was a game of pure chance. That, and the notion of buying back stolen, sacred property was never the Jedi way.

That’s where you came in.

A Jedi whose Force-sensitivity was so saturated, that you had the ability to viscerally sense Kyber crystals from parsecs away. And a talent that, in Master Yoda’s opinion, made you the perfect addition to the team.

Well, that and the open secret that the three of you had long ago become an unofficial squadron already. Considering the countless missions you’ve traipsed through together for most of your Jedi, and even Padawan, years, it was a wonder that Master Yoda felt the need to specifically mention your name either way. Even on missions in which the rag-tag trio were slingshotted to opposite poles of the galaxy, you’d always found a way back to each other.

That, or the Force itself had a dire motivation to keep those momentary separations brief.

Perhaps that’s why the two men, in addition to their clothing-related distractions, had sparking nerves heightened by another, salient factor.

That you weren’t by their side.

Given your skill set, it was clear from the beginning your cover needed to be quite different from theirs. So, twenty hours before the auction was set to start, while Obi-Wan and Anakin prepared their disguises, you slipped out. Leaving for the brothel on your own since you all agreed that the only way to secure your cover as an establishment employee was by actually applying to become one.

It was the only surefire way to explore the back rooms without tipping the sellers off. The only option the three of you had to find the crystals’ exact location. And to ensure that when chaos did reign, the artifacts wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.

Still, neither man particularly enjoyed this arrangement.

“You remembered to bring it, correct?” Obi-Wan voiced, glancing at Anakin’s pensively taught brows beside him as the brothel’s neon purple sign gently flickered into view, encouraging him to once again tug at his neckline’s taught clasp around his throat.

“Of course!” The younger Jedi acknowledged. “I was the one telling her that she should’ve had it in the first place.”

In spite of the underlying weariness still thrumming at his chest, Kenobi couldn’t help but raise an amused brow at his former Padawan.

“You? Lecturing Y/n about leaving her lightsaber behind? I seem to recall that it was your inability to keep track of your own that landed us in this predicament in the first place.”

Anakin scoffed, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I seem to remember Master Nu saying that the raid on the artifacts room wouldn’t have been discovered for weeks if it weren’t for me.”

Still, the chestnut-haired Jedi sighed, yanking down the tails of his gray suit jacket that just barely fit his longer form while he continued.

“Besides, it was no mistake. She didn’t take her lightsaber intentionally.”

Kenobi shook his head knowingly. Partly due to his former Padawan’s somewhat warped perspective of the situation, but mostly because he too was not completely on board with the notion of you being undercover and completely unarmed. Though, no matter how much he desired to do so, Obi-Wan had trouble denying that, like always, your reasoning stood sound.

A reminder that subconsciously made his heart flutter.

“You know, Anakin, that she couldn’t have feasibly hidden it away. It’s safer for her that we hold onto it for now. She will have it when she needs it.”

And that’s why, no matter his outward assurances, Kenobi seemed to have an inability to take his own advice. Perhaps too it was Anakin’s own anxieties that were infecting the Force.

But no leakage from his signature could truly reflect the hate Skywalker felt for this plan. He had shot down its premise the whole journey here, but in the end, it was no use. Anakin understood that once you put your mind to something, especially in the name of protecting the community you held so dear, there was nothing anyone in the Galaxy could do to stand in your way.

And he really did treasure you for that.

“I know,” Skywalker grumbled, pivoting to avoid a stumbling Bith with a curved bottle in hand, brown liquid sloshing out to land just beside his black dress shoe as he walked by. “But I still don’t like it.”

Evidently, no matter their confidence in your ability to take care of yourself, the two men remained deeply troubled by the fact that you were still far enough away as to be immune from their protection.

But that would soon change.

“Alright,” Kenobi slowed just beside the establishment’s greasy, revolving door to address the younger man as they neared their arrival.

“We will need to remain in one place so that Y/n can find us. She needs to know where we are at all times to deliver the signal. The zone’s blueprints suggest that the center bar will have the best vantage point. So that’s where we’ll go. Oh—“

Obi-Wan lifted a warning brow at the younger man.

“And don’t stray.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, lips pursing in an attempt to keep his face neutral.

“I don’t stray, Master.”

—

If you had your portable chronometer on your person, you would’ve checked it by now.

About fifteen minutes, you’d been waiting a handful of meters from the brothel’s storage room, disguised by the far corner tables nestled within the establishment’s shadowy edges. Marking it the perfect locale for distant observers of the night’s entertainment— or idly spying Jedi. Fifteen minutes since Krissa, a now fellow employee, shuffled into that very same room to collect a few crates of Fizzbrew for the opening bar. Nearly twenty hours after you’d secured employment as what the owner lovingly called a “Friendly Dancer.”

Luckily, it was during that same interview that you’d caught the colorful, Force-illuminated trail, leading your attuned senses to this secured back room, like a bloodhound to its prey.

Or a Jedi to her Kyber crystals.

Yet, despite your carefully chosen cover, both assumed identity and dark corner camouflage, you still had a nagging feeling that your specially selected ‘employee uniform’ wasn’t doing you any furtive favors.

Besides the strikingly crimson, skin-gripping short dress that clad your hips, the black, shimmering fishnet stockings and translucent platform heels were sure to draw some unwanted attention during a time in which invisibility was your best friend.

But you had no choice. If you had any hope of maintaining your cover and completing your mission, you had to work with what you were given.

So, for now, one of these rusted-over, ash stools would need to serve their purpose— concealing you from the trickling in throng’s broad perspectives as you kept a peripheral lock on that steel door’s sturdy frame. One by one, hungry bidders with puffy, expensive coats and sparkling wears thickened the atmosphere, all while you hoped Krissa would quicken her exit via the locked door so that you could slip in.

It was moments like these that you’d wished you had your lightsaber. At least then, you could’ve cut through the heavy, metal barrier all on your own.

But, alas, this was a mission of stealth. And you’d be damned to put either Obi-Wan or Anakin in danger because of your impatience.

Causing you to, once more, question their absence.

“Boys, boys. Where are you boys…” you hummed lowly to yourself.

Glancing toward the billowing crowd, you grew remiss at their absence. It was easy to recall how both Jedi were particularly against your decision to immerse yourself into this environment, alone and unarmed. So much so, that you assumed they would’ve arrived by now. An observation that forced you to consider how this mission was sure to sour quick were you required to act without backup.

You shook that thought out of your mind almost as immediately as it arrived.

Obi-Wan and Anakin would always appear when you needed them most.

And you adored them for that.

That, among the litany of elements that drew you into their lives in the first place.

Your first mission together was but a sapling in the times you were to share. Memories, little moments, and fleeting glances recently coalesced into the singular realization that you’d fallen in love with two of the most powerful Jedi the Galaxy has to offer.

But they were just that. Jedi.

And so were you.

So no matter your unquestionable feelings for the men, there was nothing you could do. Putting aside that you doubted any emotional reciprocation, you were sure too that they’d never break the Jedi code for you.

And that left you to again drag yourself back from those innermost thoughts to focus on the situation at hand. Specifically, your conclusion that any dearth left in Obi-Wan and Anakin’s wake would mean nothing of consequence if you couldn’t get into that storage room.

Luckily, there was no need to wait much longer.

Krissa shoved open the door, using her back to thrust it the rest of the way with a crate of clinking, dark green bottles swirling in her arms. Fluttering lilac dress flowing by her legs as her eyes landed on your surveilling form.

Kriff.

“Hey!” She scream whispered, brows stitched in reprimand while she leaned toward you. “You’re gonna get fired before you’ve even had a chance to work if you keep hiding from paying customers.”

You smiled sheepishly, playing into her assumption as you ‘stumbled’ to your feet.

“I’m so sorry,” you mouthed, ambling toward the older woman while lifting a hand to ripple through the force floating by her eyes.

You spoke lowly.

“You want me to help you bring out those crates.”

“I want you to help me bring out these crates,” she parroted in a glazed-over daze, arm catching the steel door just before it shut to allow you entry.

You nodded to her thankfully, even though she had no choice in the matter, before pushing your way past the chilly aperture, entering the stuffy storage room while the door slammed shut behind you.

Speedily, you surveyed the cramped compartment, stacked and spread to the ceiling with a strange concoction of alcohol-filled crates, charcoal cargo containers, and draped artifacts that evinced the basement of a museum far more than a brothel’s back room.

But you didn’t really give it a second thought. If you didn’t want to get caught, then there was no time to ponder aesthetics.

Quickly, as your eyes fluttered closed, you allowed the Force to thicken your blood, treating your body and mind like a living, breathing compass in its guide to connect you with your True North—

The seven missing Kyber crystals.

With vision consumed by blackness, you dodged each precariously placed box and every outstretched figurine that threatened to obstruct your path as your senses drew you a detailed map toward the back wall. Almost like a pulsing beacon, you felt the heat of your connection to the sacred artifacts deepen, warming your more-than-usually exposed skin. Intensifying with each, deliberate step. Until it reached a fiery blaze so extravagant that one stride further would’ve certainly lit you alight.

You opened your eyes.

“Hey!” A deep voice called from behind you, triggering your heels to spin around toward the sudden sound, and away from the loosely sealed cargo container whose subtle, yet familiar, blue shine confirmed your senses.

Swiftly, you absorbed the older man’s ruffly peppered beard and chilled brown eyes as his head poked past the slightly ajar steel door, barely masked snarl contorting his lips.

“I don’t pay you to ogle the merchandise! Get out there and mingle,” he continued, jutting a thumb to the club’s main room to his rear.

You leapt to your feet, making a mental note of the crystals’ location while scurrying toward the owner who seemed to have somehow grown at least one more gray hair since your interview with him.

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, twisting to get by his form against the door and entering onto the main floor before turning back toward him. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” he huffed, swiveling to catch the shutting door with his foot before leaning down to retrieve something from behind it.

Still, his muffled voice echoed beyond the subsequent shuffling.

“You’re assisting tonight, and I want high bids. So get out there and make them like you.”

You nodded complacently, already prepared to whip around and follow his orders until the older gentleman reemerged with another case of green bottles cradled under his arm.

“And here,” he shoved the crate, obliging you to catch it somewhat unexpectedly with opened palms.

“Take this to the bar.”

—

“I don’t like this…” Anakin droned during his casual stroll toward Obi-Wan’s side, a glass of orange fizzy liquid held inconspicuously before his lips.

Kenobi was leaning against the bar, his cup of whatever was on tap cradled between his fingers yet clearly untouched. Instead, the subtly troubled Jedi’s attentive eyes continued their periodic scan of the barely lit brothel. Flitting past the pockets of gold-illuminated tabled alcoves and dark blue paneling, his eyes weaved through the voluminous throng. One that featured intimately quiet mumblings among extravagantly suited clientele and gorgeously draped employees.

It wasn’t hard for him to surmise the highest paying customers from the number of brothel workers who’d hang from their arms, clearly on the job.

Smiling at each of their glances. Laughing at every joke…

Kenobi wasn’t daft.

He clearly understood the expectations a club like this had for its staff. At the least, for those who mingled with the bidders before the show. He’d only hoped that with whatever position you’d acquired for your cover at this establishment, it wasn’t pressing you to do much of the same.

And no matter how illogical it sounded in his mind, he still didn’t want to see that.

Moreover, it seemed to be a thought that equally disturbed Anakin, as his gentle thrums of anxious musing stained the Force, gradually amplifying since both Jedi had yet to locate you.

The younger Jedi had always been protective of you, Obi-Wan excused, unbeknownst that Skywalker was making much of the same defense. Though for the chestnut-haired Jedi, it was more the self-justification that he was a protective person in general. And that this was nothing more than only that.

Just Anakin being Anakin.

“I’m confident she’ll turn up soon, Anakin.”

The younger man expressly sighed, permitting a brief beat to pass as a spring of laughter ricocheted by his ears from a nearby dancer. Waiting for it to die down with bated breath before angling to respond.

“What if she didn’t get the job? She might be trying to find a different way in right now.”

Obi-Wan had no need for reaching out to the Force in order to confidently answer that inquiry.

“She succeeded. Trust me, I’d know otherwise.” He hummed, raising his glass to just barely grace his lips, but never daring to take a sip and weaken his awareness. “However, should they not show soon, I am considering they may have been apprehended.”

Similarly, Anakin vehemently shook his head. He even permitted a wry chuckle to escape past those formerly parched lips before confidently responding to the Jedi Master’s statement.

“No way. If Y/n got caught, she’d send us a signal the second she felt us near.”

Skywalker’s confident air faltered.

“Well,” he shrugged nervously. “Assuming she’s not injured.”

Obi-Wan shot his former Padawan a disapproving glare.

Until his attention was suddenly grasped by a warm, comforting hand sliding across his shoulder.

“Is this what you boys do when I’m not around? Theorize about my potential failings?”

The two men spun toward you, catching the playful smirk consuming your features before their eyes were tugged down like an anchor to trail your stunningly sheathed body, almost as if it was the first time they’d ever laid eyes upon you.

It would be an understatement to state that absorbing this captivating sight had coerced their jaws into forgetting their primary function.

The low-cut style of your short, curving red dress. The fishnet stockings that stretched down your thighs and softly clasped your high-heeled feet. The sparkling, green gemmed earrings that perfectly brought out your plump, red lipstick and long lashes. And, most noticeably, your loose, flowing hair that they’d only ever seen tied back for battle, now resting lushly across your bare shoulders like a still-life statue.

It wasn’t a side of you either men had the pleasure of observing before. And, if given the chance, they’d challenge whichever entity had so long sealed this wonderful sight from their burning eyes to a duel.

One that such an unjust creature was sure to regret.

It was a kind of fairy tale notion that both men pondered instantly once they felt a bubbling heat swarm their countenance when faced by your visual power.

So much so, that Anakin couldn’t help but break the brief lull as his suddenly dried mouth reached down his throat for an audible, and undoubtedly embarrassing, cough as he scratched his nose to try to hide himself.

Obi-Wan wasn’t coping much better. The Master Negotiator had lost all concept of Basic, its vocabulary, grammar, and everything in between as his mind was only filled with your enticing image, your pleasantly exposed skin, and the touch of your fingers to his body.

Until it was too soon gone.

Your hand fell thoughtlessly to your side, head cocking with lifted brows before speaking.

“You can close your mouths. It was just a joke.”

But it was Kenobi who first gathered the confidence to respond.

“Um, you look—“

“Lemme guess. Ravishing? The night’s main treat?” You relayed sarcastically while heaving down a large crate of clinking bottles atop the bar, one that both men only just now noticed before you whipped back toward the still stunned Jedi, drawing their gaze center.

“I’ll have it known that the distance between the storage room and the bar is a mere fifteen-second walk and I’ve already heard it all—“

“…like an angel,” Anakin muttered, not even himself realizing that he’d said that aloud.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly as you felt your heart skip a beat, sending an unexpected tingle to the root of your gut before sheepishly smiling at the deepening flush of the chestnut-haired man.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, tensely eyed his former Padawan.

“Okay, that one’s new,” you admitted, gaze trailing away to conceal your unpreparedness for such an unexpectedly sweet comment.

Ironically, it was at that moment that your wandering stare settling beyond Anakin’s shoulder abruptly caught a familiar, peppered beard. Accompanied by terse, beady eyes that scowled at you from a far wall with the intensity of a lodestar.

You had a decision to make.

But, really, was there a choice at all?

Obi-Wan would catch on, you thought.

Though, no matter how well Kenobi did understand the requirements of your cover, he still certainly wasn’t expecting you to, in a millisecond, swiftly stride toward his bewildered form to wrap your warm arms around his neck.

Immediately, despite the quickening of his thrumming heart latching onto his Adam’s apple, Obi-Wan raised his usually firm hands to gently clasp at your forearms, being sure to send you a questioning glance as he smoothly played along.

But under all that, and although he was still unsure why, deep down Kenobi secretly hoped that such a quizzical gesture hadn’t encouraged you to subsequently pull away. For some reason, he despised the thought of influencing you to forgo remaining this close to him.

So close, that he could feel the tickle of your breath across his chin.

Thankfully, though, his innermost prayer seemed to have been answered.

“Sorry,” you whispered, conveying an outwardly flirting expression of perked lips and a tilted head.

There were very few people in the Galaxy capable of reading the subtle apologetic shine of your eyes that deeply stared into his. An invisible utterance that remained firm while you briefly freed one hand to beckon over a confounded, and secretly peeved, Anakin who stood just behind his former Master, before you grasped his loose hand and tugged him forward with a terribly fake laugh.

Soon, you rested the younger Jedi’s arm on your lower back, securing its nervously flaccid form around your waist while Skywalker’s face transformed into a brand new shade of crimson once he discovered the dress’s open back.

A clearly readable reaction that deepened Kenobi’s hesitation with his former Padawan’s proximity to you. And while his mind struggled to connect the dots on why he continued to experience these strange bouts of discomfort, too distracted to truly pin down these sensations, Kenobi still felt fueled by Anakin’s expression to nudge you a little closer into his own chest.

If that was even possible.

Paying no mind to the sudden action, you addressed both men, giving a particular glance to Anakin who seemed to be the most caught off-guard of the two of them.

“The brothel’s owner made it very clear that if I don’t ’mingle’ with the customers, trouble will come my way.”

And that made the former slave’s blood boil.

“I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t,” you punctuated, temporarily removing your other arm from Obi-Wan to privately rest on Anakin’s balmy cheeks, caressing them down to draw his eyes to your level as he too struggled to fight off the festering heart attack that threatened to crack his rib, and deepened the sudden feeling of emptiness in Kenobi’s chest. “Because we have one mission here, and it’s to retrieve those stolen crystals. And I’m not losing my chance to snatch them away due to your needless protectiveness. I’m quite capable on my own.”

“What do you mean?” Kenobi inquired, taking this opportunity to regain some realm of confidence before snaking his arms around your waist and tugging you toward him with a roughness that would easily read as greedy to anyone who happened to be looking that way.

Still, the unexpected suddenness of his movement set the nerves in your face on fire. No matter, you played into the act, falling into his chest with fingers gripping onto the lapels of his oddly sparkly jacket.

“Um,” you swallowed, regathering your thoughts with a blink. “I’m assisting tonight. Meaning that I’ll be showcasing each item while they’re bid upon.”

You hummed to yourself while considering this new stroke of luck. A sudden vibration against Obi-Wan’s chest that you hadn’t realized sent a fresh, nervous chill down his arms as he held your mystifying figure, encouraging subtly wandering eyes to drink in the sight once more while his unsteady heart began to churn his innermost thoughts.

It was in that same moment that Anakin first caught onto his former Master’s charade, having finally glimpsed an equal measure of voraciousness within his distracted, blue orbs. Something that stoked Anakin’s frustration that began anew with each moment Kenobi drew you closer to himself.

“I say we don’t waste the credits,” you commented, refocusing both Jedi’s attention. “The minute I have the crystals in hand, I’ll send you a signal, and we’ll dash out of here.”

Obi-Wan leaned into you, forehead mere centimeters from yours as a spoke lowly. And for some reason, you thought, with noticeably erratic breath.

“That’s extremely risky.”

“Well, you have my lightsaber. Don’t you?” You challenged with a lift of your lips.

Suddenly, a trail of warm fingers raked up into your hair, sending quite an unexpected chill down your back once they clutched around a bunch and somewhat needily rotated your head toward Anakin’s expectant face. Yanking your body more forcefully before soon feeling his strong arm catch your side.

“I have it,” he spoke lowly.

And in spite of how desperately he tried to keep his eyes connected with yours, he couldn’t help that split second in which they sparsely flitted toward your perfectly tinted lips.

An action you apparently missed for your focus on the mission at hand.

But a gesture that contorted Obi-Wan’s lips into a perpetual frown as his mind caught up with his frothing feelings.

“Good,” you expressed. “Then I’ll have it when it’s needed.”

While your eyes remained focused and thoughtful, half a mind on playing up your cover with the other half on those crystals, Anakin had trouble keeping his eyes from once more wandering downwards.

The feel of your red-draped body against his, the closeness of your bared upper chest and noticeable cleavage, the sparkle of your eyes that comparably made your bright earrings look like clumps of coal.

Though not fully, Anakin was beginning to understand what was going on in his chest to draw his signature into such a volatile temper. Mostly because he couldn’t help himself when one hand released from your soft hair to trail down your exposed back, the other palm brushing upwards from your flank to meet the other side as he briefly traced the outline of your shoulder blades.

All of which sent a lightning bolt of cold heat right up to your head and down toward your sensitively tingling toes before he inched you toward him with the press of his fingertips while he whispered.

“Obi-Wan is right. I don’t think we should take the risk. But just in case you need it…”

Slowly, he retrieved a hand, raking it over your shoulder and feeling every inch of your arm while his mind cleared. The chestnut-haired man’s swelling eyes traced the enticing experience until he reached your hand. And with feigned gravitas clouding his features, he carefully guided your hand beneath his suit jacket, dragging it just along his warm back until you felt a cold metal resting beside his tailbone.

“…you know where it is.”

What was happening?

That was the main question you were asking yourself.

Were both Obi-Wan and Anakin just really amazing actors when the moment required it? You’d certainly never seen such a talent from either of them before. Yet the sudden naturalness, the near familiarity with which each Jedi pulled and held you close? The intimate touches and long glances while this secret meeting proceeded?

You weren’t sure what changed between twenty hours ago and now. Yet, in your core, you knew a part of your brain didn’t want it to stop.

No.

You were a Jedi. You were all Jedi. Committed to a code.

You must’ve been reading this wrong. Feelings that you knew you’d long held for the men had once again clouded your judgment.

Meanwhile, the growing tension between the two Jedi had heightened to a noticeable degree. But with your mind focused seemingly on other matters, it was only just to each other.

“You? Not wanting to be reckless?” You stated, attempting to suffocate your rushing nerves with a confident smirk. “Are you sure I’m speaking with Anakin Skywalker or do we have an imposter in our midsts?” You chuckled. “Oh, and agreeing with Obi-Wan?” You added, raising a brow.

This time, it was Master Kenobi who felt a fire erupt through his veins while his thoughts solidified.

It was you.

You who were making him feel such a way.

Ever and always.

On every mission and in each universal moment, it was you who made the Jedi Master take pause as his heart skipped a beat in your presence.

Master Kenobi was even more firm in this belief: that he was quite finished with watching Anakin cradle you in his arms for any longer. That, and the growing desire fueled by this new angle permitting Obi-Wan to graze over your open back’s supple skin with his eyes, drained him of all his decades-long self-control in an instant.

He needed to do something about that

Reaching a warm hand to the closest corner of your waistline, and with a little nudge from the Force on the other side, Obi-Wan tugged you right into his arms.

You felt the imperceptible, tiny scratches of his sequined suit jacket and the heat barely underneath sprawl across your back while his palms meandered up your sides and down each arm, soon folding them across you as he enveloped you against himself.

This time, you truly couldn’t help the light, crimson blush that bloomed across your cheeks. Especially when Kenobi chose this opportune time to gradually lean into your shoulder, chin dipping so that his lips hung mere centimeters from your attentive ear before whispering a warning with a tone warmer than you were used to hearing from the Master Negotiator.

Especially in the middle of a mission.

“You should listen to him.”

Still, despite feeling the ravenous desire to take a calming breath and smooth your hammering heartbeat, you held firm, responding to his inquiry with an overpowering confidence that usually settled any score when the three of you were having a disagreement.

At the same time, having just noticed the brothel owner’s decision to push off his far wall perch to approach, you decided to also strike a grin, raising a flirtatious brow over your shoulder at Obi-Wan’s unreadably dark eyes while you spoke, maintaining your cover.

“No. The plan stands. Trust me, there’s no need to worry.”

But, unexpectedly for you, witnessing your visually claimed figure in Obi-Wan’s arms barking out orders all while clad in that tiny red dress ignited a fierce burning passion in Anakin to challenge you back as he too decided to make his thoughts known.

Through his words and with his hands.

Taking one powerful stride to stand directly before your toes, the younger man just barely graced your bottom lip to seize your chin, lifting it upwards and twisting you to meet his wanting, blue gaze. Compelling your bright, widening eyes to wonder once more whether the lines between fiction and reality were beginning to blur.

Your breath hitched.

“Gentlemen!” The owner exclaimed, sliding next to Obi-Wan and Anakin to place a performative pat on both their shoulders. “I’m glad you’re enjoying one of our new hires, but I’m afraid that I’ll need to borrow her for the rest of the auction. We are about to begin.”

Wordlessly, both Jedi released their respective grips on you, sharing between themselves an unamused glance above your head while you ambled toward the owner. Never breaking your own, painfully forged smile.

But that seemed to be enough to convince the quite older owner that all was set to begin, as he swiftly turned on his heel toward the brothel’s far podium, motioning for you to follow his trail.

You promptly obliged, yet not before sending one quick, yet quiet, last word with a twist of your head toward the Jedi who begrudgingly stayed behind with crossed arms or a clenched beard.

“Wait for my signal.”

—

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Anakin commented idling by Kenobi’s side.

The two men continued their observations of the auction since it began half an hour ago, their eyes rarely drifting away from the rather cramped, rickety stage while you traveled from side to side, displaying each item with deliciously attractive poise. Presently, you were exhibiting an old, handheld marble statue modeled after a female Twi’lek. And although other patrons regarded the item with interest, the two Jedi meant to be watching your back for any danger had their minds on other matters.

Anakin couldn’t keep his eyes off your sensually pacing legs, while Obi-Wan could barely remain still with your elegant, tightly wrapped hips moving to and fro.

“I hear 2,000 credits! 2,000 credits. Do I hear 2,100?”

Master Kenobi readjusted his shoulders somewhat uncomfortably. “I know. I don’t believe I’ve said otherwise.”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you want Y/n.”

The bearded Jedi whipped his head from the stage as he addressed the seemingly jealous, younger man. And for the first time in a very long time, Obi-Wan began to feel those same, envious emotions with equal strength, like he’d caught some psychic disease from the blue-eyed Jedi’s glance alone.

“2,100! Do I hear 2,200? 2,200 folks, for this ancient artifact of an unknown Ryloth civilization!”

“And?” He acknowledged nonchalantly, taking an assertive stance while he found comfort in the memory of you in his arms. “And what if I do?”

Anakin’s lips formed a thin line, the image of your parted, shocked lips when he caught your dressed figure perfuming his thoughts. “Then you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kenobi stated sarcastically before raising a rather annoyed brow.

“Going once! Going twice!”

“What are you gonna do?” Anakin mumbled.

Skywalker had to ask the question. Even though he’d already confirmed in his mind that no matter what, no matter if Master Kenobi felt the same, that he’d give you the chance of knowing that there was more than one.

Obi-Wan answered simply. “I’m planning on telling her.”

“Sold! To the fellow in the orange top hat on the right!”

Because through the older Jedi’s musings, Kenobi was arriving at a similar conclusion. That if you in any way felt the same, he’d at least give you a choice.

“I assume you’ll be doing the same?” He continued.

“Yes.” Anakin sighed, eyes returning to the stage just as you remerged with an old, raggedy yet sealed box held tightly in your hands. “And what if she can’t decide?”

Obi-Wan followed the young Jedi’s line of sight, subconsciously licking his lips as the fabric of your tight, red dress pulsed his blood and slackened his jaw.

“Then we do what we must…”

The bearded Jedi swallowed.

Hard.

“…we help her.”

A rallying spark flung through the Force, filling both Jedi’s senses as they were wrenched from the momentary, visual distraction that was your ravishingly dressed person.

There was no way to deny it. Your pointed expression? Your readied stance?

The signal had just been fired.

Reaching for their respective lightsabers hung inconspicuously at the belt, both Jedi swiftly whipped their weapons out into the open, igniting a collective blue glow that provided enough of a shockingly, eye-catching distraction for you to leap from the stage, box in hand, without much recourse.

Then came the blasters.

As if emerging like shadows from the establishment’s dark corners, a sporadic group of armed men dressed like well-to-do pirates began their determined assault. Coloring the air with orange beams while the crowd scattered, hurried screams and the groans of abruptly shuffling furniture echoing off the walls.

You bolted for the Jedi, triggering both to somersault toward you while they attempted to block any bolt that you nearly failed to dodge before landing at either flank. Thankfully, that provided the chance to fling a searching arm beneath Anakin’s suit jacket, grasping your saber from its warm habitat before yanking it out into the open to launch its green luminescence.

“Go!” Obi-Wan cried, deflecting another round of bolts from your rear while the two men encircled you like a living, breathing barrier.

“We’ll hold them off!” Anakin agreed, flinging a badly aimed bolt toward a now broken and sparking light fixture above before facing you. “Get back to the ship!”

You glanced at both men, making clear your uncertainty and reluctance through the Force as, even with your aid, the gentle perspires of their efforts became noticeable.

But it was their turn to stay firm.

“Now! We’ll be right behind you!” Obi-Wan strictly assured.

So, with the box of crystals secured tightly beneath one arm and your saber effectively defending against the coming onslaught with the other, you decided to, for once, follow the boys’ instructions as you bolted for the exit, and out the brothel’s door.

And, with their hearts already racing, both Jedi had to do their best not to focus on your distracting wears as they paved a path to race after you.

—

Leaping through the red and white Nu-class shuttle’s rear hatch the instant it opened wide enough to do so was enough to coerce out an instant sigh of relief as your feet landed on the metal floor, drawing you deeper into the bird’s belly. Naturally, after regaining some bearings in the familiarity of the ship, you felt secure enough to set the relatively sturdy box of Kyber crystals atop a nearby ledge before turning to assess the situation behind you.

You already sensed that Anakin and Obi-Wan had stuck close to your heels during the entire escape, sabers twirling with elegant control against any threatening phaser until you strayed far enough beyond the brothel’s preview to lose any potential tails. So you weren’t surprised to find both men maintaining a similarly brisk pace while speeding up the ramp seconds after your arrival. Sabers long ago clipped back at their sides with Obi-Wan leading the way, leaving Skywalker in charge of closing the now slowly rising hatch.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was that the overpowering determination emanating from the bearded Jedi’s face had not in the least bit lessened since he entered the craft. Quickly, yet smoothly, he shed his gaudy suit jacket, tossing it unceremoniously to the side as he subsisted his approach.

In fact, the slight narrowing of those blue eyes, an expression you’d only seen in the occasional sparring session, remained forwardly focused. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was charging right for you, an action itself that compelled you to perplexedly speak while his brown boots closed that ever-shrinking distance.

“What are you—“

Warm lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily yet delicately while Obi-Wan’s sturdy arms snaked around your waist to gently tug you into himself.

Your heart nearly stopped, and from the tingling, tiny explosions erupting at each and every nerve ending alone, you felt yourself fall into the momentum, arms raising with the certainty of a choreographed dance to cradle Obi-Wan’s head and run your fingers through his soft, auburn locks.

Whether consciously or not, his grip on you tightened, straining your breath before you had the unavoidable need to be even closer to him. You intensified the kiss, drawing his plump, reddened lips into slow and steady locks, only for them to release with the duration of a clap before you both deeply met each other again with needy swiftness.

It felt like hours, but it had been mere seconds since the instant his body met yours. Still, the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other. Mostly to catch much-needed breaths from the pure, unadulterated shock of it all.

Master Kenobi held you still as your gaze graced over his flushed features, including that slightly tussled hair and darkened eyes that diverted from their usual bright sparkle. Especially when they flitted from your surprised orbs, to your plump lips, and back again.

But no matter this pleasing diversion, still, out of the corner of your eye, you were forced to notice Anakin— standing in the far corner in quiet observation, and chillingly reminding you of where you were and what important rules both you and his former Master had certainly just broken in his presence.

What made it all worse, though, was that for the life of you, you could not read the younger man’s expression. Apparently, he had just stood there, arms crossed once the shuttle door was secured and simply… watched? Impassively?

No, that couldn’t be right.

Then, he pushed off the wall.

Anakin’s arms fell to the side as he gradually approached you both, brows tightening into what looked like a slightly angrier cross that ran your brain into overdrive. You were still having trouble discerning his emotions through the Force, but could only make an educated guess that he was beyond frustrated that the two beings closest to him had just broken the Jedi Code.

And, also because, he didn’t seem to have any particular reaction to what Obi-Wan did, making you sadly doubt that he’d ever feel the same way you’d always felt for the chestnut-haired man and his former Master.

So, no matter how right it felt, how much you wanted it, you knew that it was time for some damage control.

“Obi-Wan…” you took a deep, shaky breath, nerves still firing at every end while your stare stood firmly on Obi-Wan’s wanting expression, Anakin nearing your side.

You loosely exhaled.

“Where did that—“

Hot moisture met your neck, Anakin’s wet lips attacking its side and extracting a startled gasp from your lungs as your eyes fluttered closed. Greedily, he cupped your throat to softy tug you toward him, draining your arms into a state of perpetual pliability from the pleasant heat filling your chest.

They slid, soon falling from Obi-Wan’s body entirely before you angled toward the younger Jedi and shakily twisted them around his shoulders for support. Another weak sigh escaped past your lips once you felt Anakin’s teeth graze across a sensitive spot as the weakening kisses continued, an action which only seemed to encourage the younger Jedi considering he returned to that spot with more fervor, sucking it dry until your jaw slackened.

Still, no matter how dazed your mind had become in this last minute of chaos, you just couldn’t believe this was happening.

It had to be a mistake, right? Was something else wrong?

Something must have happened.

Regathering your senses, you quickly pulled away from Anakin, feeling the resistance of your initial jerk snap Anakin from his equally influenced status as he quickly tried to give you space.

“Are you ok??” He asked rapidly, eyes seeping wide-eyed worry and flickers of guilt while Obi-Wan, who was initially calmly analyzing the show, too shifted to share a similarly concerned expression.

“Yes, of course,” you aired, still slightly out of breath as you stared confoundedly at the two men. “I’m fine Anakin, but what is going on? This is coming out of nowhere.” You shook your head. “Were the two of you drugged or something?”

“In a sense, I suppose we were,” Obi-Wan answered nonchalantly.

You raised a brow.

“Y/n,” Anakin uttered, drawing your eyes toward his. “Obi-Wan and I realized something back there during the mission. Something it looks like we both kinda knew for a while but didn’t really understand until now.”

Master Kenobi’s eyes raked across your figure once more while he spoke. “I saw you there, we saw you, truly, for the first time. And I lost my breath.”

You melted at his words.

“All I saw was pure beauty and you, and I couldn’t tell the difference,” Anakin spoke disjointedly, nearly making you giggle. “And I knew that seeing you like this, in this way, I couldn’t wait any longer. We couldn’t wait. We needed to tell you.”

“Tell me?” You asked breathily, preparing yourself for whatever was to come next.

“That we desire you,” Obi-Wan barely whispered, fluttering your stomach. “That you are more important to us than ancient statutes. And we determined that you must know so that you may decide if you wish it.”

You shuttered, worries of the Code fading into nothingness while the two men before you consumed your senses. “Decide?”

Anakin stared at you, a pleading glint in his eyes as he spoke gently.

“Which one of us you want back.”

Your still heavy breaths punctuated the otherwise quiet air. Characteristic of the thoughts rattling against your buzzed skull before a throaty mutter made its way past your teeth.

“I can’t…”

You watched while their faces deflated at your words.

“We understand, Y/n,” Obi-Wan spoke, a subtle sadness drooping his tone. “It’s quite alright—“

“No,” you corrected quickly. “No, I can’t decide.”

Anakin’s brows quirked at this, head tilting as curiosity subdued his brief listlessness.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You sighed heavily, eyes drifting to the floor with an unaccustomed quiver. “I mean, I can’t decide because… because…”

You bit your lip.

“I want you both.”

Raising your head, you carefully observed the two men, bodies as still as statues while their swollen eyes held firmly on your figure. Anakin nurturing a steadily expanding, devious grin while he quietly flexed a fist, and Obi-Wan, faintly flicking his tongue across his top lip in an effort to carefully drink in your figure.

A pleasant chill ran down your spine.

“Is that alright?” You whispered.

Anakin chuckled incredulously, cueing Obi-Wan to respond to that inquiry.

“Darling,” he murmured, insatiable eyes sucking you barren as the nickname sent a new round of tingles down your legs. “That stretches far beyond ‘alright.’”

“How do you want us?” Anakin posed, tone nearing a growl.

Unfiltered, you spoke your mind.

“As close as possible.”

And the Jedi obliged.

________________________________________________________________

Should I do a part 2 at some point? Let me know :)

#anakin x reader #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #obi wan my beloved #obi wan x oc #obi wan x reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan and anakin #fluff #obi wan x anakin #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #anakin smut #obi wan #obi wan smut #smut #banter #jedi reader #x reader #anakin x you #anakin and obi wan #anakin x oc #anakin x y/n #anakin x fem reader #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan star wars #sw prequels #anakin #prequels #jedi oc

[angrygonk]

HERRIKAN FORGEWORLD

Many artifacts from the Dark Age of Technology lie in the golden sands of Herrika. Across the unending deserts of this planet are scattered multiple husks of a bygone era, sprawling networks of corridors and pipes, rotting from the inside, as they are infested by creatures discovered to be descendents of a preexisting human civilisation, now turned cannibalistic abominations, adapted to live in the long forgotten bunkers. The greatest gifts may lie in the steel veins of the planet, but mere inches beneath the scorching sand, buried there by the winds, unending deposits of archeotech just wait to be dug up by the followers of the Omnissiah. Many expeditions attempted to cleanse and reclaim the network beneath the surface, but none were successful so far. As such the main task of the Herrican techpriests is currently sifting through the sand, using fleets of tracked machines equipped with nets burying themselves in the sand, in search of forgotten technology. 

Herrikan history is one of adaptation and survival. The forgeworld started as a simple expedition by a group of 17 radical techpriests from a range of different forge worlds. Everything seemed fine, until they lost contact with the rest of expedition fleet in orbit, as they have been ordered by the administratum to leave everything in order to serve as a force multiplier in a nearby rebellion over the tithe of a hive city. The 17 founders, now left stranded on this desert wasteland decided that the only way they can survive is to prove their worth to the Omnissiah by venturing into the depths of the planet, reclaiming what has been lost over the ages. They found more than they could ever hope for, machines of war and peace, technology of the Dark Age, and an artifact that became the reason for a schism within the 17. 6 of them wanted to use their discovery to establish their own empire, create the new civilisation of the Followers of machine, while the rest came to a conclusion that such a drastic action would just mark the end of their stories, dooming them to be executed as hereteks. Tensions were high but with not enough people or resources for a civil war the thirst of blood eventually ended with the official declaration of creation of the Herrikan forgeworld, led by 17 arch-scavengers, each carrying their vows of steel wrapped on their right hands.

Now, 4 thousand years after the first artifact has been discovered on Herrika, it has grown to be a small, but influential forge world, trading in unique archeotech, establishing multiple client forgeworlds like the radicals of Titanis Arx or the voidfaring Nefirran Fleet and solidifying itself as one of the biggest sources of archeotech in segmentum tempestus.

If anyone has any more questions about the lore and stuff feel free to ask, also if anyone wants to use this forgeworld in any art, story, minis or anything feel free, just tag me.

#warhammer 40k #adeptus mechanicus #admech #oc art #warhammer #warhammer art #skitarii #forge world #gonk's forge world collection #herrika #oc forgeworld

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

your snipers are GOOD STUFF and i’m just here for how he would work (nsfw wise) with a s/o who is INCREDIBLY down to be bullied and hunted for sport and will frolic around like a deer giggling the whole time like he’s a fairy tale prince and not a gangly string bean who is filled with nothing but spite and predatory lust

I had contemplated my regular format but I think straight up fanfiction better fits this.

Sniper X Prey Reader: Primitive Instinct (NSFW)

Warning: Prey/predator shit idk what the kink is called, breeding kink

Mr. Mundy hated the feeling of primal lust when other things mattered more. He often felt broken, and inherently wrong to desire the warmth of his body intertwined with someone else’s when he should have been focusing on something else. By nature he was a hunter. Focus and mental clarity even in the darkest of hours was most important when that rifle was up to his face. He could be sad and lonely for only just a moment. Just a second in eternity. But never more than that.

For if he delayed more, he wouldn’t be focusing hard enough. All of his senses alert to every single thing imaginable. An assassin could not afford one little slip up. Less the outcome would be self explanatory.

Still, he found himself constantly distracted tonight. In the highest point of Tuefort he stood atop a water tower’s catwalks in pitch black darkness. In front of him was the distant, dim lights of the enemy BLU base. A set of ugly buildings that looked more like a factory than anything else. His night vision scope was a smuggled artifact from his hometown. It worked flawlessly despite the long trip to join Team Fortress several years ago. The cold air bit at his skin but he remained stiffly in place like an unmoving stone. Boldly standing out in the open with no regard for his own safety. He knew the difficult position he was in would make it nearly impossible to get a clear shot at him. With multiple cardboard boxes off to both his sides, it obstructed angles.

Sniper shut his eyes. His lungs took in maximum air and exhaled carbon dioxide. He counted each second, carefully controlling his own breath.

One, two, three, four…

The old assassin heard a sound off in the distance just to the right of him. As he suspected, his theory about using this BLU water tower as a nest was validated. He turned the rifle towards the source and sure enough he caught the silhouette of an intruder rummaging through the bushes.

One, two, three, four…

His previous thoughts were proven to be more of an intruder than the unlucky person he was scoping at. For a second, Sniper unwillingly diverted his attention as those lustful desires crossed his thoughts again. He swore he saw the image of a beautiful, smooth, naked body of a woman flash in his mind as quickly as the blinking of an eye. His breathing immediately became muddled again. He could even hear his own heart rate skyrocket. All it took was one little slip up. An annoying intrusive thought.

Sniper had lost location of the person’s head through the dense foliage. They disappeared behind the bramble, and Sniper had to suppress the sudden unyielding rage shoot through his bloodstream. Every bone in his body wanted to throw his damn sniper rifle across the desert and see it break into multiple pieces below.

“Bugger me!” He cursed quietly. Slamming his fist on the box he was resting his rifle on. Somehow, he didn’t even care if an apposing sniper heard him. The faster he died, the better.

Sniper held his fist, which was now wracked with pieces of wood. He was lucky to be wearing gloves. The wood didn’t pierce his skin at all. Still, now he had to growl and grumble while he pathetically pulled the shards of dangerous chips out of his left hand. If the others saw him — especially scout — they’d undoubtedly tear him a new one that he’d forever internalize until his dying days.

An assassin can’t fucking afford to miss.

His moment of self loathing was interrupted by the creak of the ladder below the catwalks. It was subtle, and barely audible. Like a wild cat’s tiptoeing through the forest. Sniper stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes slowly rolled to the source. Fearlessly, he put his hands back on his gun and waited. If he made any sudden movements toward his SMG on the floor next to him then he’d surely alert the stranger. The catwalks were sensitive with age in certain places and disregarded stealth.

The person on the ladder paused when Sniper halted his complaining. Which showed him that they were listening to him too. It didn’t quite strike him as odd, but what did indeed baffle him was then the sudden sprint up the ladder. As if the person wanted to be heard.

The scruffy man gritted his teeth. A little bit offended that somebody — even if it was a teammate — which let’s be honest that’s the only reasonable explanation for it — would approach him so casually like he wasn’t a huge threat. It messed with his ego and made him want to shoot the person regardless of who they were.

“Sniper?” A voice asked quietly. It was you, of course. The new mercenary. The youngest out of all of them. A thorn in everybody’s side with your naive youth. Who the hell in their right mind would hire such a young adult for this profession?

The older man tried shutting his eyes and focusing his breathing again. Blocking out any other annoying stimulus that distracted him. (You were the annoying stimulus.) He figured you were just up here thinking he’d be a willing ear and whatnot. As if he’d ever do something like that.

“Sniper!” You whispered a bit louder.

Sniper nearly found it within himself to haul his gun as promised earlier. He gripped his rifle like he was choking somebody. “God! What?!” He asked louder than he wanted to.

You glared at him. The lack of amusement in your eyes was noted and rudely ignored. Sniper shrugged his shoulders in a very, very pressuring gesture to get on with it. You didn’t even know how he had the patience for hunting animals.

“The others wanna know if you want some coffee.” You say. Your mouth curling into what would be a snarl if you hadn’t somewhat mastered the art of controlling yourself near these mercs.

“Who the bloody hell asks their colleague if they want coffee at three in the fuckin’ morning?!” Sniper’s voice pitched high in genuine concern. Like he had somehow realized he was answering to the most stupidest person imaginable.

Sniper’s condescending words didn’t sway you. You were too tired to react anyway. “By the way, was that you pointing your gun at me?” You asked curiously.

He paused, and that’s how you knew you struck a cord. The revelation couldn’t help but peak your interest. The way he tensed up and threatened to grip the edges of the box to the point of breaking the entire thing. He was SURE he was incapable of being seen. Your words had completely shattered what was left of his fragile self esteem. If anything there at all at this point. It was entertaining to see this supposedly self proclaimed unemotional assassin break like a twig. You titled your head and the side of your lip almost twitched into a smile.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” He asked bitterly. Without any second hesitation or regard, he whipped out his kukri from underneath the boxes and started marching toward you. To say you were a bit stressed was an understatement.

Sniper shoved you backwards into the wall and dug the blade into the planks near your face. It hit the wood with an unpleasant noise that sounded like it had cut through flesh. It made a chill go up your spine. Nonetheless, you braved the sudden aggression. These types of crazy reactions were just common day-to-day events. You turnt your nose away from him as he got close to your face and breathed down your neck. It was heavy and quick. Like he was inches away from eating you. His chest pressed up against yours. You couldn’t tell if this was meant to be personal or not. But it felt… disgustingly delightful. Like you were eating candy.

It felt like you were being eyed by a hungry bear that wanted to tear into you and leave nothing behind. To drop the blade and ravish your delicious body. Sniper all the meanwhile could not even identify his own body’s mistake for adrenaline being arousal. A large, blunt object pressed against your inner thigh when he pressed down harder. His veins visible from the grip on his blade. You realized all the blood flowed to his companion. A thick, wet member prodding at you and quietly pleading for relief.

“What did I tell you? I’m a hired gunman. I’m not some friend of yours, and i’m not somebody who’s gonna joke with you. Gotcha?” You could hear him bombarding you but the butterflies in your stomach spoke of delightful things.

You wanted to mate with this hungry animal, until his balls were completely empty and his insatiable appetite was temporarily satisfied. You slipped under him and tore away easier than expected. Dodging an attempt on your head, you hopped up onto the boxes and shuffled as he tried slashing at your ankles. A sickly mischievous smile crossed your face, as for what seemed like forever, you dodged his countless attempts on your life. Jumping on and off the box, and causing him to run in circles around the tower. Sniper was beginning to feel like he was on some sort of babysitting duty. He was also getting angrier.

As fast as you came in, you booked it down to the ladder and slid down it. Sniper being less athletic however, had to hurry down the steps one by one. All the meanwhile complaining “Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!”

His anger was comedic in every way possible. You ducked underneath the brambles and patiently awaited the handsome man’s arrival. You decided to not let yourself suffer any longer. Maybe him by extension as well. Those primitive urges were something that your ancestors developed as a beautiful way to bond. In what world would you simply throw away the opportunity? As Sniper reached the bottom of the water tower, you half-assed an escape attempt but as expected he jumped on you before you could even crawl through the other side of the bush. You had no idea that toothpick of a man would hurt so much. Dead god.

“Gotcha!” He proclaimed. pinning you on your belly with his entire weight. He sat on your legs. Like a cat whose paw was on a mouse’s tail. You wondered if it was possible he’d break said legs.

He was proud of his catch, but you had no heart to tell him you gave yourself deliberately. That penetrating blunt organ was all you fixated on right now. It was all you wanted. The idea of that divine organ crushing your insides sounded like heaven. The gentle breeze of his warm breath met your ears and neck again. You couldn’t help but lift your face up to meet it. Sniper found himself meeting his lips to your neck too.

The tension broke. The two of you had clearly felt the same way. Although Sniper tried his hardest to hide his beastly instincts, nature always won in the end. The moment his lips nibbled your neck is the moment that you both individually consented. A grumble escaped your throat and it sounded like you were pleased. Which in turn pleased Sniper.

Lust is such a complicated thing. Anger and annoyance can lead to it if you go down the right path. The older man began to court you. Prodding his member against your flank to offer you a good time. He shifted your legs up and got you into a mating press. Underneath those layers you could feel him dripping with anticipation.

To test the waters he forwardly thrusted up against your clothed body. Earning another blissful sound from you. Though sniper was dead silent, his rugged breathing spoke volumes. He aimlessly humped you like a horny dog and forgot his own self control. Wildly slapping his concealed dick against your pants.

“Sniper—“ You tried to get his attention. Realizing this was counterproductive without bare skin visible.

He continued slapping against you recklessly. He couldn’t hear you, and frankly you couldn’t blame him. Sniper was determined to breed you. He was surging with hormones and ready to pump you full of his children no matter the cost. He sounded like a growling werewolf the way he began expressing his pleasure. His silence leaving him. The scruffy haired man bit down hard on the back of your neck to hold you in place. The extra skin there made it so that you weren’t hurt. Just scruffed like a cat.

You were stuck there for hours. A large man using you as his sextoy. Not even once did he slow his pace. Not even after multiple times cumming. It was only when the sun came up did he even consider.

What a wonderful thing that the gift of procreation is.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #medic x reader #spy x reader #demoman x reader #tf2 x reader #heavy x reader #sniper x reader #tf2 x you #it’s fucking 4 AM and i need to sleep

[felassan]

Dragon Age: Absolution | Official Trailer | Netflix

New Dragon Age: Absolution trailer! [source]

"Welcome to Miriam’s story.

Based on BioWare’s video game franchise “Dragon Age”, Dragon Age: Absolution explores mature subjects concerning freedom, power, and corruption set against the backdrop of adult animation.

Only on Netflix, December 9.

ABOUT DRAGON AGE: ABSOLUTION

With great power at stake, a group of mages, fighters, and thieves goes head to head against a sinister force possessing a dangerous artifact. This animated fantasy series is created by Mairghread Scott, writer of “Justice League Dark: Apokolips War”.

Set in the world of BioWare’s award-winning video game franchise, and built in close collaboration with BioWare’s creative team - including head writers, and lead creative directors.

Fear. Guilt. Pain. Can Miriam push aside her feelings to complete her mission - or will the trauma looming over her past finally catch up with her?

Nothing is absolute.

PS: if you’ve read this far, see you on Dragon Age Day. Or maybe sooner.

Cast: Kimberly Brooks, Matt Mercer, Ashly Burch, Sumalee Montano, Phil LaMarr, Keston John, Josh Keaton, Zehra Fazal, and more."

[source]

#dragon age #dragon age: absolution #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #cassandra pentaghast #my lady paladin #blood cw #mj best of

[theactualsunshinechild]

Okay so now that the Black Swan story quest has officially dropped the lore that Sampo IS in fact a part of the Masked Fools, I think now is the best time for me to present to you my thoughts on what Sampo's fool's mask should be.

Bear with me now, this is going to sound stereotypical, but I have my reasons. I think Sampo's mask should be that of a black cat.

Aesthetically? Flawless. It will make his green eyes pop, go great with the blue hair, and gives the designers an opportunity to give in to the slutty punk goth aesthetic they were kind of already cultivating.

Thematically, I think this is very appropriate because black cats, while nowadays mostly considered to be "bad luck" were initially more about the change of luck. If a black cat crossed your path, your luck would be fated to change, whether for better or worse. As he says, where there is business, there is Sampo. People with cash will suffer because he will sell them junk. People in a bad situation can be taken right out of it by Sampo, but may have to pay a price. He brings luck and he takes it away with a clever word and a flick of the wrist. To a certain degree, encountering Sampo in the story has consistently been in line with this notion! We were having a good time exploring when we found him in the snow, and he got us into an altercation with the Silvermane Guards. Later when we were in a really bad pinch trying to escape Bronya and the guards, he whisked us away (along with Bronya, changing her luck in the process too). When we were in need of a guide to the surface willing to get us in touch with Serval? Sampo to the rescue. Trouble with stolen artifacts during the museum event? Sampo was at the source. Still need help at the museum? Sampo is your man. One can even argue that our luck turning sour on Penacony only started happening after encountering Sparkle disguised as Sampo which can count if you want. Either way, Sampo is a tricksy little creature and luck follows silently in his invisible footsteps.

Therefore I think black cat imagery suits him very nicely, especially with his whole slinking around through dark alleys and knowing the ins and outs of places and always carefully eluding situations that could end poorly. Probably has nine lives and claws to deal with anything he can't wiggle out of. Just as willing to steal scraps as he is to indulge in given treats. Terribly charming in that same way that cats who know they've caused you trouble are, making huge innocent eyes at you until you shoo them off with a sigh. Always capable of appearing when you least expect it and turning the whole situation on its head.

Point is, in my humble opinion, they need to give Sampo a black cat aesthetic for his Fool form because I think it is classic and fits him.

#honkai star rail #hsr #sampo koski #hsr sampo #masked fools #also i need to put him in a room with Aventurine for science #Aventurine may have Lady Luck sitting in his lap on the regular #but i think Sampo could give Lady Luck a kiss on the back of the hand and pull her away for a dance or two #who is luckier? #the guy who kisses luck with teeth on a gamble #or the guy who holds her hand and leads the way #also god forbid they ever join forces #the other party can just give up

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part 13 Read on AO3 Tav's POV Content Warning: Bullying, Self-Harm

To some of the companions chagrin, Tav was set on exploring every crevice in the Underdark. She intended to head for the shadowed lands as soon as they were able to free Barcus and the iron hand gnomes and bring Nere’s head to Sovereign Spaw.

Astarion fussed, uninterested in helping slaves despite his sordid past and Lae’zel couldn’t be bothered either way. Halsin, ever the team player, seemed content with whatever Tav decided and Wyll was happy to help those in need, while Karlach was just happy to be alive. 

The conditions were brutal in Grymforge so tempers were short. It was sweltering like a humid summers day, even the parts away from the lava seemed to be uncomfortably warm. It was so hot that Tav wanted to rip off her armor, protection be damned.

Reprieve eluded them even as they camped in the coolest, darkest places they could find. Even still, the heat, grime and sweat were suffocating. She reassured everyone that their quests were almost complete and they’d be moving on promptly. But, something always came up.

Now that Shadowheart knew the forge to be an artifact of a Sharran temple, she was meticulously exploring it, reading every plaque and brushing her fingers against every fallen statue. Tav, ever one to please and ensure her companions felt supported, obliged to the annoyance of others. 

Astarion, for the most part. 

"It's beautiful... a past tribute to the Dark Lady..." Shadowheart murmured while she admired the architecture. Tav bit her cheeks to hold her tongue, hoping that eventually Shadowheart would recognize that Shar was an abusive, manipulative Goddess that she would be better off turning her back on. 

Tav was ready to sell her soul to Raphael if it meant she could dip in a cool river - the collar of her robe was a little too high, too itchy and she flinched, peeling her gloves back to get some air circulation. It didn’t work, obviously. Sweat dripped in rivulets down her back, feeling it pool in the most uncomfortable of places. Hells, even a luke warm river would have relieved her at this point. 

They had just secured the runepowder and were headed back to clear the rubble blocking those from freedom, and Tav couldn’t imagine how Karlach felt since she was already burning up. Tav asked about it which in hindsight, felt inconsiderate. Karlach took it graciously though. 

“To be honest, I don’t even notice heat temperature that much anymore. I’m so uncomfortable all of the time on the inside, I don’t have a lot of time to be worried about how I feel on the outside. Thank the gods we’re usually so close to running water so I can cool off every so often, but down here… we’re all uncomfortable, so I can’t complain. I can and will complain about the bloody stench coming off those robes, though, grandpa.”

Shadowheart snickered, “Heh. Gale you could use a proper bath. The rest of us don’t smell quite so… ripe..” 

Gale rolled his eyes and wiped the sweat dripping from his brows. “Lucky for you, I intend to do that first thing we’re near any source of water again. We don’t need to keep bringing it up. AND,” he hissed, “I’m not sure why you insist on sneaking around when my smell gives us away for miles.” 

Tav was staring at Gale when he turned to hurl a teasing accusation at her and her breath caught in her throat when he caught her staring. She tried to look away, yet felt compelled not to. Her cheeks were hot and her heart felt like it would explode. 

Tav ripped her gaze away when Shadowheart gave her a nudge. “What do you think, Tav? I know you must have an opinion.” 

“Um,” Tav had no response and her mouth felt like sand. Tav quite liked the way he smelled, actually, and was having a hard time focusing on much else. She kept getting distracted by how his forehead and skin gleamed with sweat and she felt too hot, needed to claw out of her armor and couldn’t. She felt beside herself, he was the only thing she could focus her attention on as if he bewitched her. 

Tav saw Gale smirk and blush as if in a silent understanding. He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes still fixed on hers. Karlach groaned and covered her nose with the front of her shirt. “The two of you need to get a room.” 

Shadowheart snorted, eyeing Tav pointedly. “It might do everyone some good...” 

Tav was shocked. It was like Karlach to hurl these jokes - but Shadowheart? Tav’s eyes fluttered to meet Gale’s and as he stood there, sweating and flushed she felt ungodly. Sinful. She turned away and moved faster towards the rubble, trying to escape the feelings that consumed her. 

As she rushed ahead she heard the whispers between Shadowheart and Karlach, her ears were hot and burning. What were they on about? Gale and she just had a complicated history… that was all. 

***

Karlach collapsed, rummaging through her bag until she pulled out water, “Oh thank the gods…” she chugged it, thirsty and dehydrated after carrying them to victory. Yes, magic was incredible, but nothing could stop some good old fashioned rage. Although Gale, Tav, and Shadowheart could be silenced and rendered impotent, Karlach was ever the heavy hitter. 

The gnomes were filtering about, mourning those who were lost and celebrating their new found freedom. Tav had just finished talking to Marcus when she saw Gale knelt over Nere, studying the lifeless corpse crumpled at his feet.  Tav cocked a brow, tilting her head inquisitively as her eyes drunk him in, how the sleeves of his robes were pulled back - just - to show his sinewy forearms and wiry veins. Her mouth began to water and she felt the tell tale blooming of heat at her core. 

Why was she so drawn to him? The magnetism, the pull of rivalry and the tension that had built in their past was born anew in the present, the feelings of angst and desire blossoming into an all consuming need. She cleared her throat, the sudden increase of saliva in her mouth making her uncomfortable, and wiped the sweat from her upper lip. 

There was something inexplicable about Gale. She recalled the first time she met him - it was her first day at Blackstaff and she was horribly nervous, her stomach twisted in on itself and her body shook from adrenaline. They must have been about ten and Gale, as confident as he was, tried to approach her. Tav had been terrified at the time and could only offer a small smile and head shake before walking away. It was a memory that made her baulk in embarrassment, how her tongue was so tied she had been unable to say a word. They were in almost all the same classes that year and it started Tav’s fascination with him. It wasn’t often she was met with someone whose mind and wit were as sharp as her own. Magic had been as much a part of her as her right hand, from the time memory solidified in her brain, and she quickly learned the same was true for Gale.  

Tav was sent to Blackstaff after an unfortunate turn of events involving frost and ice and a brief stay at a neighbor’s while her father adventured. Tav had been having a difficult day, her peers at her prior day academy were relentless - picking her apart for her tattered clothes, her weird abilities, her wild hair and when she arrived back at the home that wasn’t hers Gerald, the neighbors son, made a snide comment about her and… she snapped. She couldn’t remember what he said now - she did remember the streaks of blue ice that wrapped Gerald in its tendrils, choking him, freezing him and the look of abject terror on Gerald’s face. It wasn’t until Gerald’s mother intervened that Tav realized what happened. The wail that left her body wrought her core when she stopped Tav - she was consumed with guilt, had rushed to the bathroom to try to scrub her hands with scalding water in hopes it would take away her ability. As she rubbed her hands together the boiling heat burned her skin, her body shaking with violent sobs and heaves. 

By the time her father was able to get there, her hands were so raw they needed to be salved and wrapped for a few days. 

And so, it was decided it would be in everyone’s best interest for her to hone her talent, learn how to wield and master her abilities and the intensely growing emotions that coursed through her. 

Tav took the opportunity to transform herself, to camouflage and fit in with her peers. It was also exciting, to be among others who shared her thirst for knowledge even though many could not match her talent or ability. Gale could, though, and she found it thrilling. She couldn’t help herself, she spent so much time challenging him, poking at him, taunting him for a reaction because she needed to chase the trill it sent through her body. Even if it meant it was at Gale’s expense. 

She was too young to recognize what that feeling was at the time. Tav had always been one who felt a stronger desire for a persons mind, their spirit rather than for their external appearance - but, looks certainly weren’t a hindrance. Gale was wiry and gawky in their youth and the man before her now was quite different and yet exactly the same. Tav touched her lip, thinking of how close his face was to hers a few nights ago. 

A hand on her shoulder pulled her back to the present, “Tav?” Shadowheart’s gentle voice touched her ear, “Are you ready?” 

“Sorry, you startled me… I was miles away.” Tav blushed and rubbed the back of her neck and looked back towards Gale who had a curious expression. She began, unconsciously, to walk towards him.  

Gale pulled something from the body - a broken lantern of some kind. Tav sighed as his face scrunched, unable to decipher what it was, and she found his concentration delicious. Pull yourself together, she rebuked herself, trying to refocus her attention. Tav recognized it to be a pixie lantern - she had seen one once before, a broken one her father brought back. 

“A pixie lantern?” Tav asked, kneeling beside Gale and extending her arm to take it. “May I?” 

Gale was flustered and he thrusted the lantern towards her hand, his finger lightly brushing hers. “By all means. It seems you’re more familiar with this contraption than I am. Can you feel the magic of it?” Gale murmured, his eyes wide. “It feels dark…” 

“Likely a creation from the Shadow Weave…” Tav mused, biting her lip in concentration. “I wonder what this was used for…” Pixies weren’t known to be hospitable captives and what purpose could a lantern serve in the forge? Tav felt warm, too warm, and licked the sweat from her upper lip and she heard Gale’s breath hitch. Her eyes flicked to his, the brown irises drowned out by endless black pupils. 

Her mouth parted and she reached out to brush the sweat pooling beneath his lips. Gale sighed, “What are you doing…” The shock that swept through her was almost palpable, interrupted by Karlach’s voice. 

“Let’s GO,” Karlach fussed, growing impatient with their investigation. “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll never make it back to camp.” Her voice rose and fell like an over-tired child’s. 

Gale’s soft laugh ignited her and her eyes were glued to him, “Ah, Karlach - what would we do without your exceptional time keeping skills?” 

He was goading her and Karlach frowned playfully, holding up her axe in a faux threat. “I can show you some of my other skills, too, if you’d like.” 

Gale grunted as he pushed himself up, his knees cracking a bit. “Oooo, did you hear that?” He looked down at Tav, a smile playing at his lips and he held out his hand. Although surprised, Tav took it and stood, her hand remaining in his until he begrudgingly released it. “Knees aren’t quite what they used to be.” 

“I’m pretty sure they heard that crack in the hells,” Karlach tossed at Gale, smirking. “Now, I’m moving and you can follow or not.” 

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #baldurs gate 3 #gale x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 brainrot #gale #bg3 fanfiction #enemies to lovers gale x tav #gale x tav enemies to lovers #gale x tav fic #bg3 gale fic

[vintagerpg]

Shadows of Evil (1984) is the biggest adventure in the Role Aids line, clocking in at 80 pages plus map pull-outs. There is some source material at the front of the book for roleplaying in the Celtic world (or, I guess, the post-Roman Celtic world, more accurately) and a set of powers and items designed as a supplement for the D&D Druid class (reprinted from an earlier article in Dragon Magazine). This focus on Celts is a little jarring, as the Boris Vallejo cover is pretty generic looking fantasy, and, aside of some narrative trappings, the adventures don’t have much Celtic flavor.

There are two linked adventures. The first concerns a, well, a weird place. It was a site of worship for Dark Druids, then a Roman fort and now it is a manor that doubles as an abbey for some good Druids that seem rather Christian, really. They’ve been corrupted, though and in order to set things right, an evil artifact of great power must be retrieved. The second adventure requires the destruction of the artifact lest its use bring about the return of an evil pre-Celtic deity. To do so, the player have to travel to an evil citadel…owned by a witch-king…and throw the thing…into a pit of fire. Which seems a lot more Lord of the Rings than Celtic mythology. All of this is further undercut by pretty standard dungeon design populated by a prosaic complement of D&D monsters. I actually like the dungeons and how generic they are, but they feel real weird in the Celtic context.

Nice art throughout by Robin Wood. Very different, I think, from her work in Swordthrust.

#roleplaying game #tabletop rpg #dungeons & dragons #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #Role Aids #Mayfair #Shadows Of Evil

[skyward-floored]

The cat’s out of the bag chapter 3

Surprise, I finished it! It’s a pi day miracle lol. Yet more adventures of Wind as a cat.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52017334/chapters/137983660

Chapter 2 | Next (coming soon)

————————————————————

The last bits of light were gone from the sky, revealing stars speckled all across the dark expanse it had become. The moon had risen as well, a thin claw of white partially obscured by the branches of the forest, and Twilight glanced at it once, before looking back at the heroes who were gathered around him.

“So...”

Warriors’ voice seemed loud in the quiet that had fallen over the group, and the captain crossed his arms, giving Twilight an intense look that felt like it burned straight through him.

“Wind touched an item of yours he shouldn’t have, it turned him into a cat, and the only sure-fire way to fix him is with the Master Sword. Am I correct?” he asked in a surprisingly level voice, and Twilight nodded.

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

Warriors raised an eyebrow, but nodded and didn’t push for any further information, to Twilight’s surprise.

...and relief.

He’d just finished his explanation of how Wind had become a feline, and Warriors had seemed... extremely skeptical of the tale. It was true Twilight had tiptoed around the fact that he was Wolfie, and the item that had turned Wind was what he used to do it, but he hadn’t lied at all in his story.

...sidestepped the truth a little, but hadn’t lied.

Time had given Twilight several looks during his explanation of events, as had Wild, but neither of them interjected, and nobody else who knew about Wolfie had said anything either.

And maybe it would have been better just to explain everything, since Warriors and Hyrule were the only two heroes beside Sky who weren’t aware of his wolf-form. But truth be told, Twilight just wasn’t in the mood to face the whole ‘by the way I’m Wolfie’ conversation. He’d already had to explain it all to Wind today, the others could wait a bit longer.

Though, with the faces Warriors was making... it probably wouldn’t be long before he figured it out.

If he hadn’t already.

“So it’s a magic item then,” Hyrule said thoughtfully, then frowned a little. “One that isn’t easy to control... I thought you didn’t like magic, Rancher?”

Twilight shrugged. “I have a few artifacts. That one is just...” He hesitated. “...tricky.”

“That’s one word for it,” Legend snorted under his breath.

“Is the Master Sword really the only way to restore him?” Warriors asked again, and Twilight nodded.

“The only one available to us. Another source of strong, pure light magic might be able to fix him, like the light spirits in my Hyrule, but I’m certain these aren’t my lands. The sword is our best bet.”

“Well that’s unfortunate with Sky missing,” Four frowned. He looked at Wind, and the thoughtfulness in his eyes quickly turned soft. “...Is he asleep already?”

Twilight paused at Four’s hushed question, and looked down at the ball of fluff curled up on his lap, little breathy noises coming from within. Wind’s tail was tucked over his nose, leaving only the top of his face visible, and his eyes were closed, the tension his body had been holding all afternoon finally relaxed.

“I think so,” Twilight whispered back, and Time sighed from next to him.

“Good. He needs the rest. He was barely standing,” he said softly, and Twilight nodded, resisting the urge to cuddle Wind up to his chest.

He would never admit it while the sailor was awake, but he was cute, soft creamy fur with faint windy swirls of a darker pattern on his feet, face, and tail, and big blue-green eyes with a little pink nose. He wasn’t even a completely full-grown cat yet, which only made him more adorable, but Twilight was sure he’d get a bite on the hand if he voiced it.

But... he really was cute.

And exhausted because of you, his brain hissed, and the guilt constricted in Twilight’s middle again. You should have warned him sooner about touching the crystal.

“Poor kid. He’s totally exhausted, huh?” Legend asked, and Twilight checked back into the discussion, nodding.

“The transformation wore him out. It’s a lot of magic all at once, and he wasn’t expecting it at all,” Twilight said quietly, running a gentle hand over Wind’s fur.

“But he’ll be okay, right?” Wild asked, fiddling with his tunic as he looked at the sailor, and Twilight nodded.

“Yeah. The first time is always the worst.”

Warriors narrowed his eyes at that, and Hyrule had a suspicious look on his face as he glanced between Wind and Twilight. Twilight swallowed, and averted his gaze from the two, trying not to fidget.

Okay, maybe I should just come out with it already, this is a bit ridiculous.

Twilight couldn’t quite get his mouth to open, though.

He shifted a little awkwardly on his seat, and Wind suddenly raised his head with a soft mrrp?, looking around sleepily. Everyone immediately quieted down, and they all looked at Wind, who barely seemed awake.

“Sorry Wind, it’s okay. You can go back to sleep,” the rancher whispered, and Wind flicked an ear, then closed his eyes, tucking his paws back underneath him. He let out a breathy little sigh as he curled back up, and was asleep within moments.

Twilight heard a soft click, and looked over to see Wild taking a picture on his slate, a grin on his face.

“It’s for posterity,” he defended when Twilight raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t want future generations to miss out on this cuteness, would you Twi? Or his sister? She’ll be so sad if she hears that this happened and she didn’t get to see.”

Twilight waved a hand in defeat. “I take no responsibility for this if Wind asks.”

“He might not appreciate pictures,” Time mentioned with an eyebrow raised similar to Twilight’s, but Wild just took another picture.

“If it happened to me he would be taking pictures too. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” he said cheerily.

Twilight shrugged. He knew Wind had at least one picture of Wild his protégé wouldn’t want getting out. This was just evening the score.

“So... what are we going to do about Sky?” Four asked, trying to get back on track, and Warriors hummed.

“Going out and looking for him now wouldn’t be very productive, it’s too dark,” he said with a look up at the sky. “My suggestion would be that we leave someone up to watch for Sky, do an occasional loop around camp, maybe call now and then. If he hasn’t come around by tomorrow, we can look for him in earnest.”

He glanced at Twilight, and Twilight met his gaze with a level look.

“That sounds fine,” Time said before either of them could say anything, and placed a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “But now we should all get some rest, you especially rancher.”

Twilight turned towards his ancestor with a confused look. “I’m fine old man, that red potion did the trick.”

“Those don’t fix blood loss though,” Hyrule pointed out helpfully. “At least not all the way. And you still look pale.”

“Our Traveler is correct. Get some sleep, Rancher,” Time said firmly, and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll be able to help Wind better if you’re well rested.”

Twilight hesitated, then let out a sigh. “Fine.”

He had wanted to stay up for at least one shift of keeping an eye out for Sky, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Not with everyone watching me like I’m going to suddenly collapse.

Though to be fair, he did still feel a tad dizzy.

Twilight slouched more against the log he was sitting against, unwilling to further disturb Wind from his peaceful slumber by properly lying down, and closed his eyes, beyond tired from the day’s events.

He just hoped they would find Sky quickly.

(...)

Wind stretched himself out with a big yawn, extending his toes and claws into the sunshine, and raising his back up in the air.

He shook himself once he’d finished, and watched the rest of the heroes finish packing up camp. Wind had slept straight through the night and woken up early, but had been sorely disappointed to discover that Sky hadn’t joined them in the middle of the night.

Waking up and remembering he was a cat also wasn’t so fun, but at least he was starting to get used to it.

A spot on his head itched, and Wind huffed, sitting down and attempting to scratch at it with one of his paws. He didn’t have any luck though, merely bonking it once and nearly falling over, and Wind growled in frustration. Oh come on!

“Try your back leg.”

Wind lowered his front paw, and looked over at Wild, who had obviously been watching him.

“Your back leg,” Wild repeated, and pointed to one. “Raise it up and tilt your head, you’ll be able to reach any itches on your head or neck.”

That sounds fake, but okay, Wind thought, then tried to do what Wild said. To his surprise, his foot went right where he wanted it to, and he was able to relieve the itching with barely a thought. Well whaddya know?

Wind gave Wild a grateful look, and the cook shot him a grin.

“No problem, Sailor. I’ve spent enough time around Wolfie and stable dogs to know a few of their tricks,” he said, and Legend snorted from nearby, standing up as he strapped his sword on.

“You’re wild enough without needing to take tips from dogs and wolves, Champ.”

“Hey now, the stable dogs are very civilized,” Wild said, and earned a flick on the ear from Twilight as he walked by. “Hey!”

Wind let out a little mewl of laughter at Wild’s offended look, and Twilight kneeled down next to him, extending an arm. Wind blinked at him, then realized Twilight must want him to climb up and sit on his shoulder again while they walked.

“I know, I would rather walk if it were me too,” Twilight apologized when Wind let out a grumpy little huff. “But we need to figure out what happened to Sky, and we’ll make better ground if I carry you.”

Wind lashed his tail and stood up, walking around in a little circle and concentrating on where he placed every paw. He managed to make it all the way around Twilight without falling over, and gave him a hopeful look.

“See? I’ll be fine!” Wind meowed pointedly, blinking up at Twilight.

Twilight sighed. “Sailor...”

“I think he could walk with us for at least a little while,” Four piped up from nearby, looking down at Wind. “He seems a lot stronger than he did yesterday.”

“Yeah, and he can always just hitch a ride if he gets tired,” Wild added, and Twilight looked between him and Four, then back at Wind.

“You’re sure you can handle walking?” he asked seriously, and Wind nodded, his tail sticking up. Twilight studied him a moment, then sighed, giving him a nod. “...Then I’m okay with it. As long as you let us know the minute you need a break, and let someone carry you.”

Wind scrunched his face up at the addition, but meowed in agreement, willing to put up with it so long as he got to walk by himself.

He felt plenty rested from sleeping, and had practiced walking around a bit while everyone else had woken up and packed up their things. Wind felt much more confident in his paws, even if he was still tripping regularly, and he was eager to walk around more.

Besides, I bet we’ll find Sky really quickly and I won’t even need to walk that long.

“So which way should we go?”

Wind looked up at who’d spoken, Four gesturing to the woods around them. Everyone was packed and ready to go, and they stood ready to begin walking.

...As soon as they figured out where to go.

“...huh. Good question,” Twilight said, looking around the trees as well. “What’s the mostly likely direction for Sky to have ended up in?”

“Well, if we came out over there, and you guys came out over there, then it stands to reason that Sky probably came out in a different direction,” Wild said, studying the woods and pointing in a seemingly random direction. The birch trees he was gesturing to made the forest seem strangely bright, and Wind had to squint a little. “So we should try over here.”

“Why there specifically?” Warriors asked.

Wild shrugged. “The ground slopes up, it’ll probably lead to a good vantage point if nothing else. If Sky isn’t there, we might be able to at least see where he actually is.”

“But what if Sky came out the other direction?” Hyrule asked. “Then we’ll be going away from each other.”

“That might be a risk we have to take,” Time said thoughtfully.

“We might waste a lot of time though,” Warriors cut in, “Sky might need our help, and if he really did come out a different direction...”

They all began to argue about where to go, and Wind rolled his eyes and stopped listening, looking around a minute, then trotting towards a rock nearby that was covered in moss. It smelled pretty interesting, much more interesting then a discussion he couldn’t contribute to, and Wind gave it a curious sniff as he walked around to the other side, out of view of the arguing Links.

The moss looked soft too, and Wind raised a paw, pressing against it and letting out a little purr when he realized he’d been right. It was really soft!

Wind nuzzled up to it, rubbing his face along the moss, then pulled back when a bug nearly crawled on his nose. He sniffed at it, poking it with a paw, then flattened his ears and backed away as a smell hit him, thick and unpleasant. That must be one of those stink bugs Hyrule was talking about.

Wind shook his head in disgust and sniffed around some more, trying to get the bad smell out of his nose by smelling other things. He wandered into the woods a little, smelling pine needles and sunshine, and sat down on a small stone, curling his tail around him as he took in the forest.

As annoying as being stuck as a cat was, it really was kinda cool how heightened his senses were. He could smell all sorts of things about the woods, flowers and animals, and faint traces of the ocean somewhere. He could smell the other heroes from behind him too, each with their own unique scents. Wind could even hear them talking if he swiveled his ears around, though not the exact words.

He could tell they were still arguing though.

Wind shook his head in exasperation, and stood up again, trotting a little deeper into the woods. If they were going to just stand around and argue, he’d look around for Sky himself. He could smell things so well right now, he’d be one of the most likely to find him, right?

Easy-peasy.

A chirp interrupted his thoughts, and Wind looked over to see a little white bird land on a log nearby.

It chirped and hopped along the wood, and Wind couldn’t help staring at it, his tail twitching. Something about it was almost mesmerizing, drawing his focus, and he crept a bit closer, staying low to the ground so the bird wouldn’t see him. It chirped on, oblivious to his presence, and Wind hid behind a stump, poking his head out and watching the bird.

I wonder what would happen if I pounced on it? he thought as it chirped again, then blinked. ...I wonder where that thought came from.

Wind watched the bird again, pecking at the wood below it and trying to get some bugs to eat. His tail gave a big twitch, and Wind began to creep out from the cover of the stump, zeroing in on the bird.

I’ll just jump on it to see if I can, he thought to himself, sneaking closer. Aryll would kill me if she knew I hurt a bird, so I’ll just pounce on it and let it go—

“Wind!”

The bird squawked and flew away, and Wind felt a hand scoop him up by the scruff, startling a mrreow out of him.

“Don’t wander off!” Twilight’s voice scolded, and turned Wind around so he could look at his face. Wind let out a cross hiss at him. “Oh don’t give me that, you’ve been gone ten minutes, we thought you’d gotten lost or something!”

Just because I’m a cat doesn’t mean I suddenly can’t handle myself! Wind thought with an growl, and he and Twilight glared at each other a minute before Twilight sighed, and set him down.

Wind sat down and crossly licked his shoulder, ears flat with annoyance.

“Look, Wind... you’re vulnerable at the moment,” Twilight said, his face creased. “I know it might not feel that way to you, but the truth of it is you are. You’re not used to this form, and you can’t easily defend yourself. You need to be careful.”

“I was being careful!” Wind meowed back, wishing he could actually speak his mind. “I was listening and smelling for danger! And I was looking for Sky! Unlike you all who were just arguing!”

Twilight sighed. “I don’t have any idea what you said, Sailor, I’m sorry. But we figured out where we’re going, so come on back so we can get a move on.”

Wind let out a muttered growl of agreement, and walked along at Twilight’s heels when he turned back towards the others, Wind’s ears still flat.

Great. We’d finally started to get past treating me as a useless kid, and now we’re back to square one! Being a cat doesn’t not make me a hero!

Wind kicked at some pine needles, and tripped, just barely catching himself. Twilight gave him a look, but Wind ignored it, righting himself and looking grumpily at the paws he kept stumbling over.

Sky... please be somewhere close by.

I miss being me.

#kind of filler but next time we’ll get to the good stuff #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wind #lu twilight #lu chain #all the links #minus sky #linked universe fanfic #kitty wind #ao3 link #writing from the floor #inspiration struck and I was able to finish this earlier wahoo #hope you all enjoy

[starlettechild]

His Savior, The Sinner

──●◎●──

CONTENT: Raphael x Durge!Reader. Raphael post - ending with my head-cannon that if you don’t kill him, he goes back to his father to be tortured. SFW, angst, and eventual comfort. GN reader, they/them pronouns used!

⚠️TW⚠️: Writing contains descriptions of violence and abuse.

A/N: My take of this Dark Urge character is that they are able to mediate the influence of Bhaal, maybe with a Netherstone or artifact? The Dark Urge character maybe a little OOC and more moralistic than some might like, so just a heads up for this reason.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

It’s not in the nature of a devil to be saved. For the devil needs no savior, no source of protection or light to guide him through the darkness. He makes his way with his own claws, tearing through his enemies one by one - and he does so alone.

This is the ideology Raphael has always followed. Help is for the weak. After-all, he is the true savior, isn’t he? Arch devil supreme. Ruler of all the hells. Overseer of all infernal affairs. His dream. His one and only goal. But it was all stripped away that fateful day. His favorite sinner had rejected his offer, even when he had offered so much to them in return for their collaboration with him. The rejection from them rings in his ears in the empty space of the dungeon. It bounces off the stone walls of the small space, and it makes the pain of the hooks in his skin so much more sharp. Whoever knew he would fall this far from grace? He was nowhere near an angel, but the only way to describe his fall is a descent. A fallen devil. He chokes out a laugh at the thought, followed by a pain cough that leaves the cool, trailing sensation of blood falling from his mouth.

Oh, how he misses his dear sinner. The malice that coursed through every vein in their body. The fire that burned inside of them, telling them to kill and kill and kill again. Such a powerful mortal. At their first meeting, he couldn’t help but make his admiration clear. He’d known of the Bhaalspawn for quite some time, ever since the thievery of the crown. They were the last cog in his grand design. A stubborn work of art, but no matter, he once thought, for they would come around and see they both had a common goal. But now, he can’t help but think if his blood-starved beauty was even still alive. Their presence plagued his mind, ever since his capture. Their eyes, their skin, their voice was his only source of comfort in the darkness of his cell. He even dreamed of them. How they would turn the entirety of his father’s home into a bloodbath in the name of his freedom. Perhaps he never needed the crown, he thought. Perhaps he just needed them. He longs to hold their hand, to feel and know the blood that soaks every inch of their skin. The lives they have taken in the name of devotion. Would they do the same for him?

His hopeless thoughts scatter at the sound of bangs in the distance. Another fight in his father’s home, perhaps. Many tried to steal from him, only few succeeded. He can’t help but have another thought of admiration slip to his dear sinner. The bangs increase, and Raphael swears he can hear the tearing of flesh, the splash of blood on the pristine marble floors of this wretched home. A shiver runs through him, and he can’t tell if it is one born of excitement or the cruel cold of this ring of the hells.

The noises grow louder. Is it his father that rips through these people? Surely. It sounds as if whoever it is tears through the party, ripping them apart by the seams. Even from down below, he can smell the metallic scent, and he knows it’s not his own blood this time. His eyes flick back and forth between the stone walls, to the hooks, to the metal enchanted bars of this cell. Who’s up there? Why are they still going? What could possibly cause such an issue? Or a better question, who?

Once it goes quiet, Raphael stills. He hangs at the edge of these hooks that hold him in place. Is it over, he wonders? But the deafening sound of the heavy prison doors sound out, and his weak heart quickens. Is it his tormenter, his father? Who has come to place more hooks in his infernal flesh? Whose face will he memorize next, and hope to rip apart once he is free? The echoing sound of steps has his eyes narrowing. The steps are heavy, yet light at the same time. The steps of a killer. The faded and far sound of armor with each step. The beautiful sound of another slashed throat of one of the guards that lingers around his cell. The dripping of blood from their blade. The muffled kick to the stilled infernal corpse.

The steps become louder, and they begin to match with the beat of his heart. Something small and weak within him wishes for it to be his savior. Something smaller still wishes for it to be his sinner. Oh, his sinner! His mad little mouse! Just the thought of their name has him wanting to burst from these hooks and find them once more! Yet Raphael remains still as a dark figure steps into the view from his barred cell. Blood trickling from their hands. The stench of death and blood teases Raphaels senses.

“If you’ve come to finish the job, little murderer, than be all means do so. But remember that I will remember your face, and you’ll think death is a mercy compared to what I’ll do to you.” Raphael spits out the words, the now dried blood clinging to the stubble along his jaw. His tired eyes pinned to the dark figure that lingers outside his cell. The blood-soaked stranger begins to lift off the hood they wear, and Raphael wishes for whatever worthless Gods to come strike him down now.

The face of his sinner stares back at him. Their blade coated in the blood of his tormentors. The devil shuts his eyes, trying to still the image in his head, for he will have it painted time and time again until he cannot go a second without seeing such a glorious view. Their hand reaches out to Raphael, and his body shakes with pain as the hooks dig farther into his flesh. It takes a moment for him to register that he’s reaching back. He feels the blood on their hand as it folds over his own shaking one, but all he wants to do is kiss and adore it. To plead with them to never wash this blood from their hands, and to tell them in detail of each move they made to make his tormenters bleed. With the little strength he has left, he squeezes their hand. His eyelids open, and his sinner smiles, the splattered blood on their features along with that smile they have makes his heart skip a beat.

“Ready to go, my devil?” They ask him, and Raphael wonders for a moment why they did it. Did they not reject his help? Perhaps his sinner can see the confusion in his eyes, for that smile of theirs widens. It doesn’t matter, he thinks. They are here, soaked in the blood of his enemies. That is all he could ever need - damn answers and explanations. In reply, he squeezes their hand again, and the hooks from his body break - the light of the sun blinds him. But Raphael has already seen everything he ever dreamed of, and he wouldn’t mind if the blinding light never allowed him to see again.

#raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #bg3 durge #durge #raphael x durge #bg3 writing

[fenikorg-talks]

Alastor couldn't believe that Husker of all people had convinced him to do this.

He really didn't want to do this, but apparently, there was "no one available to do the job". What a lie. Literally, anyone in this goddamn city would have been able to do this if it wasn't because the damn tv was nowhere to be seen. Valentino had a rage sprout during the blackout and Velvette was getting him distracted before he actually hurt Vox in the process. What a bunch of losers. Who in their right mind let those three take control of the city while he was away? Lucifer wasn't doing a good job, it seems. Well, who was he to judge.

While walking in the dark streets he encountered all kind of sinners. The kind that took advantage of the darkness and the kind that panicked about it. Some of them were upset of having no signal. That's what happens when you put all your trust in an unstable individual. Charlie had told him to get to Vox's tower as fast as possible, but a little time spent in the darkness wouldn't be too bad for their health. Their brains had already rott with those screens, they should touch some grass.

Vox's tower was defended with all its artifacts and armaments, so Alastor opted to use his shadows to get into the building. Inside it was as dark as his shadows. Alastor followed the halls that he remembered leading to Vox's office. It was exactly where it was seven years ago, and when he managed to get in, it was the same as before, but a little more full of monitors. Vox's sharks and some sparks from the cables were the only sources of light. Alastor walked to Vox's motionless body, resting in his chair. He would never admit that he got the goosebumps, but he saw how the cables were still pressed against Vox's TV head, and that something was twitching in the monitors.

"Vox", he tried to call his old pal, but there was no verbal answer. Instead, one monitor glitched and, with the screen still dark, one single little red light turn on. He was listening. Good. Alastor remembered when this kind of thing used to happen before; Vox would try to use more power than he could handle and end up lost on his wires. Alastor always helped him get out. But this time, it wasn't as if he was stuck, no, it looked as if he was hiding from something. "It has been a long time, hm?" There wasn't anything to say, either way. Vox didn't look like he wanted to talk, less to Alastor of all people.

"Just so you know, I was practically forced to be here, so don't get your hopes up," he remembered when Vox used to be so hyped by the mere fact that they were gonna be sitting next to each other on an overlord's meeting. He hoped that hadn't changed between them. Then again, they did have a fight right after he got back.

"Get out of there and bring back the light to the pentagram already, Vox," he was getting tired of this, there was no way this prick was gonna listen to him anyway. The lights, slowly but steadily, started to return to every house in the pride ring. Well, that was something. Still, Vox was on the monitors, doing who knows what. Alastor sighed, of fucking course this asshole didn't have the guts to face him again.

"I doubt the Radioo Demon was just forced to come and calm down a pathetic crybaby," Vox's deep voice said through the speakers. His voice was hoarse, Alastor noticed, as if he had been crying. Vox was right, tho. He wasn't completely forced, but he had been convinced by a very persuasive bartender cat who knew how to read him like a book.

"It's not as if it was my first time seeing you this way. Besides, your partners were somewhat busy at the moment, and there is no one else who knows about your little addiction to getting lost on those electronic snakes."

"Wires," he corrected but otherwise said nothing. Alastor picked at his nails waiting for Vox to do something. He did nothing.

"Well, time's up! I came here with a job and it's done. Have a nice mental breakdown, my dear fellow, may we never see each other again!" Sparks and glitches surrounded the monitors and an electronic wave passed through the wires until getting on Vox's head. His screen tilted on and his face appeared, but he didn't move. Alastor knew that it took a while for Vox to regain full control of his body so he took advantage of those seconds to examine him. His face was drawn in the most boring, disinterested look Alastor had ever seen him do, he wore big eyebags and looked sick overall.

Sometimes, Alastor wished to not smile at all. This wasn't a moment in which he should be smiling, and yet he was. It might have been convenient for him in numerous times, but with Vox, he just felt fake. And Vox knew that.

"If your face wasn't sewn, would you truly be happy to see me?" Vox didn't look up when he talked, but Alastor could see his disappointment in his monotone voice. How he changed in the seven years they were apart. It was almost as if he was a completely different demon.

"Like this? ...No," he summoned his shadows and got out of that sad pathetic tower. On the streets, he took one last glance in his direction, dropping his gaze. He had expected to be meeting his number one fan and only friend. Instead, he met a depressed overpowered overlord who didn't remember when was the last time he truly smiled. And to be honest, Alastor didn't remember when was the last time he was truly happy either.

(I don't know what kind of crack was I on when I wrote this but I found it on my notes, so I edited the fucking grammar and now here it is, enjoy)

#staticradio #radiostatic #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox