#or allowing commoners to become knights

[salty-we-never-got-mergana]

Ngl, King Arthur, man of the people, may be cliche, but seriously, I fall for that shit all the time. My favorite trope. This is why Arthur is the greatest king! I don't care for anything different. I mean, if it ain't broke, why change it?

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!Hero (Chosen One) x Saint!Reader

Being the Hero – the Chosen One – means that the world’s fate is on Elias’ shoulders. He’s long since forgotten how to live for himself, his life belonging to everyone but him. He’s merely a puppet that’s being strung along by the world for the sole purpose of saving it.

At first, he was honored to be chosen as the Hero – it’s a privilege most don’t get. But everyone expects too much – everything – from him. His life is carefully shaped into what others want of him, people only looking at his role and not him as a person.

Now, he fights and saves people due to duty, not desire. There is no sparkle of pride when he helps villagers. Instead, all that is left is another thing checked off of his mental checklist. Now, he just wants to rest. He just wants things to be over.

So that’s why he despised the idea that some Saint from the Church would be his “helper.” Traveling with someone else is only going to slow him down. Not to mention the fact that he doubts the Saint has ever seen bloodshed and disease like he has.

But when he actually meets and travels with you, the Saint, he realizes that you’re actually not that bad. You’re actually kind of nice. He’d expected you to turn your nose at the commoner population, refusing to heal them, but you actively seek them out to help. You’re kind and gentle, but headstrong. Even when you’re visibly exhausted, you do your best to keep going. 

It’s… kind of impressive, actually. He had misjudged you, perhaps.

Even now, you’re helping the knights that were attacked by bandits (which Elias had vanquished), healing not only their bodies but their souls, too. He can’t help but look at you, a raw beacon of kindness that he hasn’t seen before in his travels. 

Once you’re done healing the knights, you look up at him, before a gasp escapes your lips. “Elias!”

He blinks at you, curiously.

“You’re bleeding!”

“Ah.” Elias looks down at his hand, blood dripping down his fingers. He had instinctively grabbed a knife by the blade earlier because he wouldn’t have been able to dodge it in time. “This is nothing.”

“Oh, shush!” you say, approaching him. You push him towards a tree stump, forcing him to sit, which he allows. Carefully, you take his hand in yours, frown deep set on your mouth. Your hand is so warm that it makes his heart burn.

“You’re tired,” he states, bluntly. He doesn’t tug his hand out of yours. “You’ve healed too many people.”

“I can–”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Rest for now, Saint. I am fine.” And he’s right – he’s the Hero, after all. His wounds heal much faster and better than a normal human being. He doesn’t necessarily need your healing.

“Still,” you murmur, looking up at him. “Can I at least clean and bandage it?”

It’s pointless, really, but Elias says, “Do what you want.”

So you do. You disinfect and clean his wound, before carefully wrapping his hand with bandages. For some reason, his heart squeezes painfully as he watches you tend to him so gently. He doesn’t remember if anyone’s ever treated him this kindly.

“There.” You look proud of yourself. It’s kind of cute.

“You didn’t have to,” he mutters without really thinking about it.

You give him a smile that makes his brain stop. “I wanted to. I want to support you.”

For some reason, your words almost make him want to cry. He’s not sure why – he’s seen so much death and destruction to the point that his emotions have become numb. Yet, you bring flickers of his feelings back to him – happiness, sadness, anger, love. 

You make him feel like he has an existence beyond just being the Hero. You make him feel human.

So, how can he let you go? He can’t – and he’ll do everything he can to make you his. Even if it means he has to destroy the world.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ The Strong and The Feeble

(Il Capitano with sick reader / tw: general description of illness, coughing, or physical pain. sfw)

Imagine Il Capitano with a sick darling, one whose health is often at risk. Your condition has been chronic for as long as you remember since your well-being is susceptible to common ailments and pain. And yet, it never hindered Il Capitano’s admiration towards you. Instead, it only amplified his urge to shield and protect you.

Imagine the mighty Harbinger returning from a prolonged expedition, his strides cutting through the secluded snowy terrain to reach a quaint manor on the outskirts of Snezhnaya. The mere sensation of the crisp taiga air beckons him to yearn for the upcoming warmth of your arms. Capitano barely has a moment to enter the manor and hand in his coat to the servants when a familiar voice calls out – “Is that him? Is he home already? Capi…!”

Imagine Il Capitano opening his arms and rushing to scoop you, both in worry and longing to feel your body against him. It appears that today is one of your brighter days, as you allow your weary body to move forward and welcome him directly instead of remaining in bed, even when a retinue of worried maids are trailing behind you. But expending your energy is no longer a worry, as Capitano effortlessly lifts you in a tender embrace with his armored hands.

“My beloved, I missed you dearly… But you shouldn’t overexert yourself just to welcome me. Save your energy for me, sweetheart.”

But you never allow your mood to change along with your ailments. Bedridden or not, you always greet your Knight despite your conditions. He doesn’t deserve to feel any more worry from your demeanor than he already does when he is away at work. Unbeknownst to you, Capitano sees right through you and the lengths you go to conceal your coughs, troubled breaths, or fatigue.

Any day that Capitano makes it back home is a celebration. He misses you terribly, and his Fatui expeditions became a driving force to work hard for you. He’ll return home with rare herbs, expensive medicine, or anything that your condition might require. Even when he is on a mission abroad, his mind keeps conjuring ideas on what unique gifts and books he must search for.

Imagine how Capitano’s prolonged mission heightened his worry for you. Thus, once he's settled at home, no longer donning his armor, Capitano will personally step in to take care of you. His hand is always protectively sweeping over your forehead and hair, ensuring your temperature is in check. He'll often dismiss the servants so he can bring you hot beverages to ease your sore throat. Only after confirming you've taken your medication and are resting on fresh sheets will the typically composed Harbinger release a sigh and join you in bed.

“Dear, you just got home. You mustn't trouble yourself so. You know I can take care of myself if needed to… I'm not that helpless, Capi.”

Il Capitano would apologize, tighten his arm around your shoulder, and softly nuzzle his face to a tender kiss on your cheek. However, internally, he is sighing wistfully, because he knows that on sunny days there are looming shadows as well. Sometimes, your illness takes a toll on you, your voice becoming hoarse and your coughing more frequent. Moving or even lifting your head would cause a headache, but the Harbinger never backs away in such circumstances.

You can barely speak on those days. But even as you lay in bed Capitano can tell you feel guilty and try to dismiss his aid. You even try to conjure up a weak smile. A smile that brings the Harbinger to his knees, kneeling beside your bed and silently cursing whatever celestial fate allowed you to suffer so.

"Shhh... sweetheart. I know you despise it, but you must comply to drink this medicine. I will not let ailments win over you."

Imagine how Capitano would never trade any paradise for seeing you smile on the rare days that you feel better. You try to move around, dismissing any help from the servants. Capitano would step in, link a protective arm around yours, and take you on a stroll in the manor's garden. The imposing Captain would make sure his steps are slow and careful so you won't feel rushed. However, the opposite always occurs. Keen to use the most of your condition today, you keep rushing off ahead of him.

Imagine Il Capitano rushing after you gently, catching you before you accidentally trip or fall from your childlike sprints. With a single arm around your torso, he easily picks you up from behind. His tender warnings go unheard as you giggle joyously. A rare and merry sound for him.

If the Snezhnayan weather allows it, he brings a designated blanket to drape over your legs, ensuring your comfort as the two of you spend the entire morning outdoors. He’d hold you close, sharing tales of his battles and missions. But what’s the point of talking about work when you can’t even accompany him and all he does is fight for the sake of returning home – to you.

Who has the right to define what constitutes strength and weakness? Perhaps for some, physical prowess and overcoming adversity may epitomize the ultimate warrior, while the opposite rings true for the meek. Nonetheless, a certain Harbinger will argue against it. For even he weakens at the sight of your unwavering smile, whenever you are at your worst condition. Or when you muster the deepest courage to get up on your own instead of seeking help. Who is he to boast as the strongest person in Teyvata, when every day you fight to survive?

Hence, imagine the 1st of the Fatui Harbinger lowering his head in reverence for you. Despite your bewilderment in his manners, he seeks your embrace so he can hear that heartbeat safe and beating, praising each day he gets to hold you in his arms. -

[were-wolverine]

i feel like we should talk about the classism also portrayed in Nimona

like the whole thing of ballister not being of noble blood, him being a street kid?

ofc there’s the homophobia/transphobia aspect but i haven’t really seen anyone talk about the classism in it

the director literally claims that the start of the “crack in the wall” is the queen giving ballister a chance to prove himself and become a knight

she is fully blaming the prospect of giving non-noble lower class people a chance to become knights as a catalyst for the opportunity for “monsters” to invade or whatever

the queen letting ballister train to be a knight, and her wanting to allow anyone (aka ‘commoners’) to do the same? giving underprivileged people the same opportunities as those that are privileged? and the director finding that so “wrong” or offensive that she literally kills her??

[maacbrem]

Absolutely insane about the Thelyss brothers in Vasselheim cause like

Essek the Bright Queen is RIGHT THERE SIR PLEASE - but then, so is his brother, his little brother he probably still thinks of as a child because they were allowed to be children so briefly before anamnesis failed to come and they had to make something of themselves as new souls in an ancient Den, and Verin is the youngest Taskhand of Bazzoxan and a highly accomplished Echo Knight but he’s going to war??? Against aliens and would-be god killers and Ludinus Da’leth???? And Essek is a heretic fugitive and selfish to his bones, but he loved his brother even when he didn’t think he was capable of love at all, even if he wasn’t very good at it. So he stays in Vasselheim and he makes sure that these strange, awe-inspiring legendary heroes know his brother’s face, his voice, his armour, so that maybe if he falls one of them will deign to pick him up. He thinks about his friends, far from him now (Caleb, out of his reach and likely preparing to do something reckless but too brilliant to be called foolish), and looks at his brother, who will also go, who might never come back.

And Verin??? The youngest son of his Den, the second new soul prodigy by necessity who never really understood his brother but loved him anyway, who mourned their father so hard that he tried to become him by throwing himself against the endless hordes of the Hells, who now answers the call of all the gods and Exandria itself to fight a war with impossible odds, offering himself and his soldiers as potential cannon fodder so that the legendary heroes of the age might emerge victorious? I need to know how long he’s known what Essek did (because I know that Essek confessed and part of him hoped that Verin would condemn him, his righteous, devoted brother), and I need to know if Essek faked his death or just vanished, and I need to know if Verin wept for him. Verin who loves his people and his country and his god, who believes in things like faith and loyalty because he’s never really had cause not to, who has to find a way to believe in his brother, too. He learns to recognize this Archivist disguise and a few others that Essek favours, and he stops referring to his brother by name ever just so he doesn’t forget at the wrong moment, and he carries the beat-up booklet of Ashari poetry that he first learned to read Common from that still has child-Essek’s penmanship in the margins and he thinks about how seasons change and how winter doesn’t really kill, it just rests, and the process of a butterfly’s metamorphosis isn’t really that far off from the Luxon’s decree to become your ever-bettering self.

Essek doesn’t say “come back” but he does say “fight smart” and Verin knows what he means. Verin wraps him in a spine-cracking bear hug, uncomfortable in his armour but Essek has gotten better about physical affection in the past few years and one day Verin intends to thank the Mighty Nein personally for that. Verin says “stay sharp” and then quieter he says “i’ll see you again” and Essek hears ‘in this life or the next’ and he very calmly and sanely doesn’t start screaming, but he does press a pearl to Verin’s forehead (Caleb’s variation of the somatics, a useless bit of sentimentality made powerful that Essek adores). And then they have to part ways before Verin rejoins the Kryn contingent and Essek disappears back into the crowd, two brothers finally on the same side but unable to stand together.

Anyway, I think they’re neat.

[saturnsorbits]

LiSyK: The Selection

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Suggestive. Word Count: 1.6k.

Summary: Closing in on his 20th name day, tradition dictates that Prince Bakugo choose his first concubines.

A/N: This might become a series, but don't hold your breath.

'I don't want a fucking -.'

Grabbing her son by the cheeks, Mitsuki Bakugo fixes the young prince still with a cold stare. 'You will do as you're told.'

'But -'

'It is tradition, Katsuki. Not even your ego is large enough to put an end to that.' She smirks before releasing her hold and wipes a hand on the left hip of her dress. 'Now, come on... You're late.'

Huffing, Bakugo tugs at his shirt to smooth the wrinkles left by his mother, but follows on her heels obediently. Usually, he'd put up more of a fight, throw a proper tantrum, but the pit of curiosity growing in his stomach stops him making too much fuss. He's fucking human, after all. Of course, he's going to be at least a little interested in the collection of concubines that had been assembled specifically for his perusal.

That didn't mean he had any intention of choosing any of them, though.

The doors of the main hall seem more daunting than usual, but Bakugo hides his trepidation well.

Or so he thinks.

Mitsuki's hand touches softly on his shoulder, guiding him, not through the main hall, but down the corridor. She offers out her elbow, letting him cling to her as they continue to drift closer to a small, more intimate, service room.

The marble clicks under their shoes, the sound amplified endlessly as it rings behind them announcing their arrival. Large windows scatter light, bringing out the red in both Bakugo and his mother's eyes as they pass the selection of special guards already stationed outside the room. All seven of them, five sworn to his mother and two to him, are dressed from head to toe in royal finery with the lightest of chain mail glittering over their chests. Swords hang from their hips, but Bakugo knows there are much more deadly weapons hidden under their clothes and tucked away from prying eyes.

Captain Aizawa, one of Mitsuki's most trusted knights bows low when they reach the door.

Reaching out, Mitsuki presses a hand to his shoulder and pushes him straight again. 'Enough of that, you'll put your back out.'

Aizawa's mouth moves to argue, but Mitsuki doesn't allow his voice to summon a sound.

'Shouta, you have more than earned the right not to bow.' She chides in a way that makes goose-flesh break out on the other guards, but the Captain simply laughs.

'Is the prince ready, My Lady?'

Mitsuki's hand wraps around her son's bicep giving him a firm squeeze. 'Oh, you know him. Dragged here kicking and screaming.'

Bakugo scowls.

'But, I'm sure he'll manage.'

Another guard, tall and broad in the shoulders with a close crop of dark hair and a booming voice clears his throat. 'If I may speak out of turn, Captain?'

'You will not Yoarashi.'

Mitsuki waves him off. 'Oh, let the boy speak Shouta.'

The guard, Yoarashi, smiles. His teeth are too big for his mouth, but somehow there's still something strikingly handsome about him. Bakugo hates it. 'The consorts have outdone themselves this time, I've never seen a more stunning array of -.'

Captain Aizawa silences his guard with a raised hand. 'That's quiet enough, I think the Queen understands your sentiment.'

'Quite.' Mitsuki smiles, locking a chuckle behind her teeth. 'Speaking of the wonderful job my husbands consort has done, I think it's time to see what Inko has found for us, don't you, Katsuki?'

Bakugo nods, it's all he ca manage with the nerves threatening to make his knees wobble like some common whore. His jaw is tight, teeth clenched in his mouth, but it soon looses as he the doors are thrown wide and he's allowed to step into the room.

Inside the room is dark, the thick red curtains covering the windows putting an end to any natural light that should attempt to slink inside. Instead, the room is illuminated by a series of high torches that cast a godly glow about and perfectly highlighting the row of people stood across the centre of the room.

At once, Inko is upon them. She wraps chubby arms around Bakugo without a second thought and greets his mother with a warm kiss to her hand when offered. Following at her heel is Izuku, her darling son. 'Brother.' Izuku smiles.

'Half Brother.' Bakugo spits the former piece of his sentence, enjoying the way it feels between his lips – the distance it offers him from the man before him. They're the same age. Both Mitsuki and Inko had been pregnant at the same time and the boys born mere months apart, although Inko had done the chief portion of the nursing; especially when Mitsuki's milk had dried up. Something that had lead both women to an unlikely friendship.

'I heard you've outdone yourself this time.' Mitsuki pulls at Bakugo, steering him around to the front of the room.

Bakugo's eyes wonder. There's a conversation flowing in the air around him, but he pays no heed. How can he, when the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on is looking directly at him.

The man lifts his head. He is bare to the waist with only the smallest piece of cloth to cover his dignity. If Bakugo where to walk around him, which he just might, he'd bet he'd be able to see his ass in all it's glory.

He has red eyes, violent carnelian, that pierce right to Bakugo's soul and red hair that is tied neatly in a bun atop his head. Licking his lips when he catches the princes' eye, the man smiles, flashing a row of blade-like teeth that threaten to bring Bakugo to his knees.

'Did you hear?' Mitsuki pats Bakugo's lapel.

He didn't, but he nods anyway.

His eyes slip further down the line, silently comparing each concubine to the next, but no-one compares to the red-eyed man until his eyes are blessed by you.

You're near the end, stood beside two others that don't even come close to your beauty with your chin tilted to the floor and your hands clasped neatly before you. Like the others, you're dressed in almost nothing, but it's the bright red 'V' painted onto your skin across the top of your breast bone that has him pausing.

He's seen the mark before and a cursory glance back down the line tells him exactly where. The red head, amongst two or three others, also bare the mark.

Bakugo swallows.

Already he can feel his breeches tightening uncomfortably.

'How many?' He snaps, forcing his eyes from the line and onto Inko.

She blinks. 'Pardon?'

'How many... For my... For my harem?'

'Oh. Most choose at least six to begin with, but after that is custom to add another concubine for each year until you reach 29. Sometimes other kingdoms will offer then as gifts, but you're more than welcome to dismiss -.'

Bakugo raises his hand. 'I don't want a history lesson.'

'Oh, I -.' Inko blushes.

'Brat, watch your tongue...' Mitsuki raises her hand to crack him across the back of the head, but the prince side steps her assault easily.

'I want that one...' He points at you, eyes narrowed and hungry before he turns, pointing at the red haired man at the other end of the room. 'And him. That's all.'

Mitsuki's brow furrows. 'Two? Inko here scourers the kingdom for the finest it had to offer and you choose only two?'

Bakugo folds his arms. He can feel your eyes, the red-heads too, burning through his skin. It makes him hot, makes him wonder what it'll be like when your eyes grow heavy, when they're spotted with ears and your mouths are full of his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

Clearing his throat, he tries to readjust his breeches.

He won't have to imagine soon. No, soon, you'll be his.

'Have them brought to my rooms tomorrow.' Turning on his heel he shouts over his shoulder before storming from the room before his cock begins to soak into his breeches.

Tomorrow, he thinks as soon as the doors slam shit behind him.

That should give him enough time to fist himself stupid to the thought of red eyes and glittering skin.

Hopefully, that would stop him making a fool of himself at the first meeting.

Bakugo already looks bored when you're brought into his rooms at noon the following day. The door closes behind you, a guard having performed the customary introductions, and all too quickly you're swallowed by the nerves that climb up your body and twist around your lungs.

Adjusting his seat, Bakugo pulls a foot up onto his chair and spreads his knees. A bark leaves his chest that he hopes is harsher than it feels. 'I don't fuck virgins...'

You hear the wet click of Kirishima's throat from beside you in the silence of the room. Even though the red ink is gone, the fact of your both being intact remains the same. 'Uhm, my lord... I mean – Prince Bakugo, I'm... I think there's been some mistake, we're – we're both -.'

'I know.' He waves his hand. Anticipation creates pins and needles in his thighs. Even if he wanted to fuck right now, he's not sure his body would hold out long enough. Maybe, five orgasms in the space of a day was too much.

'Well, you can see how this might be a problem then...' Twisting his knuckles around each other, Kirishima chews at his lip and forces a weak smile. It's strange how he makes six-foot of man look almost as small as you are, but he does it easily and blushes pretty to boot.

'How -.' He clears his throat. 'How are we supposed to serve you if -.'

'You're going to fuck each other, first.' He arches an eyebrow, drawling as if the solution to his little problem has been more than obvious. A smirk curls his lip. 'I'll watch.'

Next Chapter ->

-> Series Masterlist -> Full Masterlist

[itsquakey]

NextGen Q&A! (Again)

Here we go, some more asks with an illustration this time like it used to be! I'm excited to do this one as I'm now able to post actual new art.

Yes, Metadede is canon. It's just incredibly vague and secretive in how it's written in this AU. I believe the earliest hint at Metadede being a thing is in the introduction to Pike Knight comic, where it is pointed out Dedede took Meta's sacrifice the worst out of them all (well..maybe not as bad as Pike but). Because I'm currently metadede brained there will be more open references to them.

Also fun fact: The reason Dedede has a feather-beard in Nextgen is because Meta isn't around anymore. Dedede could've grown it at any point but Meta hated it so much Dedede could shave it for him.

vvv More asks below! vvv

Pike Knight took over (or attempted to moreso) because he believed Kirby wasn't ruling over Dreamland as its new king good enough, and believed he could not only do a better job but bring back Meta Knight himself. Something that the others didn't seem interested in which frustrated her to such levels that she did what she did. But tdlr Pike did it out of grief.

Chuchu in Nextgen is a canon lesbo, so they were never really together. They were and are just friends.

Just want to put this here no real need to answer anything

So to explain this- normal souls in the afterlife have to stay in the afterlife. They are unable to go to the real world or interact with the real world without breaking the rules made up by Necrodeus to prevent chaos from happening in the living realm. The only way a soul is allowed to enter the living realm is if a reaper accompanies them, and that usually isn't all that common. There's a limited amount of reapers in comparison to souls in the afterlife. That being said Morpho brings Meta to the living world often and when they do they take the form of bugs. Morpho and Papi are both reapers and can changes forms as they please and talk in the living world. Meta however cannot. He's stuck as a beetle and couldn't talk to anyone even if he tries (that is until he himself trains to and successfully becomes a reaper as well but that's another time). Kirby knows early on thanks to his communication with Morpho but doesn't want to say anything because he's worried about what could happen if they spilled the beans about it. The aforementioned "Necrodeus incident™" helps reveal to everyone that Meta knight was this strange beetle the whole time. After this happens Metabeetle and the others can communicate normally after he is granted reaper status.

The staff King Kirby carries contains the crystal from Kirby 64! I was gifted to him by Ribbon during his coronation. It's one of his main weapons, though he usually just uses it like a normal staff. It does a hell of a good job keeping malicious dark matter away though.

Meta Knight would probably feel guilty about it all, thinking he was responsible for what went down when he really wasn't.

(Referring to a really old early image of Marx and Castella)

I like to imagine Castella can/could wield Galaxia just for a joke. I'm sure Meta Knight and Kirby are not the only ones worthy enough to use the sword.

That's all for now! Would you like your baby waddle dee loaf bagged or would you prefer to carry it?

[strawberrystepmom]

ready to eat

pairing: Yami Sukehiro x F!Noble Reader

word count: 4.9k

contents: NSFW - minors and ageless blogs dni, I will hard block you. Takes place in canon universe, there is a slight age/experience difference insinuated between the pairing but reader is at least 25, reader has named magical ability (movement magic), so much banter, oral sex (f receiving and finishing and it's sexy)

cw: mentions of marriage and misogyny, virginity (reader is a virgin)

notes: brain rot has proven to be fatal so here you are. this is open ended and i would not consider it a oneshot bc i'd love to write more about these two. hope you enjoy! thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3, divider by @cafekitsune

you can find more about these two here, here, here and here 🖤

Nighttime is your time, a lesson you taught yourself independent of your instructors many years ago. 

Movement magic allows you the luxury of blending in with your scenery, rushing unseen toward a capital district that is on the opposite end of where your family has made their name. Nobody here would recognize you even if you were less discreet, cloak gathered around your face and obscuring any unidentifiable features, and the freedom is indescribable; better than every sunny day or freshly made tea dessert. 

You are free to be yourself. Unmarried, unattached, unimportant, it doesn’t matter. You stumble into the usual inn you make your domain until the sun rises, ready to watch the way people you have little in common with live. If anyone knew you’d get reprimanded, probably rightfully, though you have never quite understood the scandal that lies in being a well informed woman. Your mother was a gossip and isn’t that another way to become informed? 

It’s society's acceptable way, anyway.

You slink into the corner table, away from the crowd gathered nearer the bar, and slip your hood off of your face. No glances of recognition from anyone else, too engrossed in their own drinks and their own conversations, and you sink down against the back of the chair you’re sitting in. It’s nice to be anonymous, you decided months ago when you began doing this. You aren’t certain you want to continue being so inconspicuous when you remind yourself why you’ve been doing this to begin with - to gain even the slightest bit of the life experience that continues to elude you. To love and laugh and feel joy that you’ve been told only comes with marriage, something you are too apprehensive about committing to. 

It’s why you come namelessly into a district that does not belong to you or your kind. You hope that someone will find you interesting, a beaten path off their life’s track. Someone to laugh with or tell stories to. It’s all you’ve ever really wanted, a romantic to your core despite the decidedly unromantic life you lead. Caretaking, getting earfuls from your father about being a responsibility that the family no longer wants to have when taking your age and failed proposals into consideration. So lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice when a man slides into the chair next to you, glancing down at your hands and then at your face.

“You need to stop wearing whatever is making you smell like that.”

The interruption to your quiet evening makes you jump, no longer dissociating and now in the present. You recognize the man sitting next to you, a captain of a Magic Knights squad. Their faces are plastered all over the capital and you’re shocked that he stumbled into such a low brow establishment though getting a look at him up close convinces you that he may not be in the entirely wrong spot.

“Captain Sukehiro,” you offer politely, formal as ever. “I regret having to request clarification from a man as esteemed as yourself but what do you mean?”

The captain snorts, shaking his head in response to you as though your manners are piteous instead of a courtesy that should be extended to all. 

“Don’t call me that, Yami is fine.” He sniffs, stuffing a cigarette between his lips. “I’m talking about the shit you’re wearing that is filling every corner of this place. People don’t wear things that make them smell like bakeries around here.” 

Scrunching your nose, you lift your wrist to your nose for a sniff. He’s referencing the perfume you spritzed on after bathing and the way it sticks to you, the smell wafting around the table with every move you make. It hasn’t caught any eyes yet, thankfully, but he can see how this will end if you don’t correct your mistake now. 

“What are you doing around here anyway? I figured women of your, uh, breed or whatever stuck to their own districts.” 

Bristling slightly at his insinuation that you find yourself too good to hang out here, you square your shoulders and clear your throat. A low chuckle rumbles in Yami while he lights his cigarette, raising his brows and eagerly awaiting whatever argument you are clearly cooking up in that little head of yours. 

“I’ll have you know that I enjoy exploring parts of the city that I rarely see. I am out here thanks to my own curiosity.” Your eyes shift from Yami toward the rest of the tavern, a small smile on your face watching the patrons laugh amongst themselves. “I think it’s really wonderful that people are happy no matter how they were born into this world and I’m thankful to be able to experience this side of life too.”

The captain could spend all night laughing at your naivety if you’d let him but he doesn’t wanna let you dig any deeper of a hole than you’re already finding yourself in. You’re clearly a fully grown woman, even the doll-like roundness of your eyes and cheeks can’t convince him you’re under 25 judging from the way you carry yourself. You aren’t the first noble girl he has ever seen sneak off in an attempt to find herself yet it strikes him as hilarious you clearly believe it.

“So you aren’t like the other nobles? You see people as people?” The brusque individual takes a long drink from the mug in his hand, Adam’s apple bobbing while he swallows, your eyes fixed on the sheer size of his neck and throat. “What do you want? A prize?”

Even the enticing muscles of his body (how can one person have so many muscles bulging off of them anyway?) cannot distract enough to forget that he’s insulting you. You place your hands in your lap and fiddle with the edge of the cloak that covers the simple nightgown you are wearing, covering it enough that no one is suspicious about why you’re wearing nightclothes in the first place. 

“No, I’m simply telling you what I’m doing here because you asked.”

Sipping from his mug, the man glances you up and down. He swallows and squares his shoulders.

“Okay? That still doesn’t tell me what you’re actually doing here, you’re only talking about feelings and shit.” Another sip and he places his ale down. “So what are you doing here? Isn’t it a little late for your type to be out with the rest of us?”

He considers you for a moment. Not bad looking. Pretty, even. Not plain in the way some overly manicured noble women can come across and you clearly aren’t using magic to enhance anything about you or else he’d notice. He’s a pro at sniffing out transformation magic in women having seen so many who have taught themselves to dabble in the arts to subtly tweak their appearances. You sigh and he finds it impressively naive to do so, your shoulders pinching in while you exhale sharply out of your nose. 

“I’m looking for someone to help me.” Now this is interesting. He raises a brow, glancing you up and down. You lean toward him, creating a veil of intimacy in a crowded tavern, elbows resting on the table rudely. “I, um, I fear I’ll be woefully unprepared for my marriage bed once the time arrives and I want to avoid embarrassment. I’m already too old to be considered marriageable to most and my heart could not take physical rejection from my husband as well.”

“You’re a virgin and feel weird about it and now you’re makin’ it my problem.”

Gasping, your eyes widen and you shake your head rapidly. Yami smirks when he senses how quickly your heart is pounding beneath those layers of fabrics most in this place could only ever dream of seeing much less feel against their skin, curious enough that he won’t just tell you to get lost at this point. 

“Please do not repeat my predicament so loudly, Captain Sukehiro.” You whisper hiss, fighting the urge to kick him beneath the table as you do the rest of your fathers’ unruly issue you are the eldest of. “It’s not something I’m terribly proud of.”

The captain scoffs, humming to himself and adjusting his posture so that he’s leaning toward you instead of on the back of his chair, cigarette dangling from his fingers. You’ve captured his attention, at least for now, and he’ll give you all of it that you can handle. Pursing his lips, he glances around the bar for a split second before focusing on you, gray eyes locked on your pouting mouth.

“Then why is it your situation in the first place? Thought you nobles were too proud for your own good.” He flicks the lighter in his pocket. “And don’t call me that. Yami is fine.”

You should find it very rude that you are being asked so many questions and being made to suit so many demands made by a lesser born to begin with but the curiosity feels like deeply personalized attention, causing you to bloom in response. Hunched shoulders stretch out, the graceful posture you’ve spent what would amount to months of your life if you stretched the hours out perfecting appearing. No one at home is this curious about you outside of when you will no longer be around to tend the younger children your father continues to spawn and it feels different to be the center of a man’s attention. 

Not a weak, defanged little noble whose only function is to act as an additional limb for his father. A man with rough hands and battle scars and overgrown hair down his neck. 

“I haven’t felt a spark with any of the men I’ve been introduced to. They’re lovely individuals with proud lineage but it has always felt so…” you search around the room, lifting your hand to your mouth to idly nip at the cuticle around your thumbnail. “Forced. I don’t want to be with them and they do not want to be with me. Four men and none of them made me feel like I could spend the rest of my life with them.”

Once again, Yami chuckles at your predicament. Your cheeks heat in response, ears tingling and burning as that familiar feeling of being mocked encourages you to retreat inward. The awareness that you do not have to put up with this kind of treatment from a man beneath your station 

“Sounds like you’re hard to impress, kid.” A plume of smoke is blown over your head, the cigarette he was holding now dangling from his lips while he examines you with narrowed eyes. “Little darling won’t settle for less than a fairytale.”

Retreating further into yourself, you move your hands from your lap to fold your arms over your chest.

“I’m no child, obviously.” 

Your retort is as petulant as your posture and the man smirks, the corner of his mouth jumping, tenting his fingers in front of him and leaning toward you. Despite himself, he likes you. Your willingness to shit here and just shoot the shit with him has impressed him but not enough to let you off easy. 

“You’re here beggin’ for attention like one so I dunno about all that.”

Scoffing, you shift in your chair but make no effort to get up. You won’t be picked off by him that easily. 

“You know nothing about me, sir.” You raise your brows and shift your head to emphasize your point, arms still folded. A grown woman behaving like a little brat shouldn’t draw a man like this in yet he considers himself intrigued, stamping out the nearly depleted butt of his cigarette on the edge table in front of him. 

“Can’t argue with that. Keep talking.” 

He leans back in his chair and sizes you up, boots stacked on top of each other where his ankles are crossed and his long legs are extended out in front of him. It’s one thing to be keeping him here against his will because you won’t stop talking, it’s another when he is a willing audience. Your mouth runs dry and you gradually unfold your arms, placing them above your knee so you can subtly rid your clammy palms of the prickling sweat across them.

“I want to experience the things that a husband and wife are to experience together though I do not have anyone to enjoy them with.” Even the way nobles describe sex is stuffy and uncomfortable, Yami realizes, brows raising slightly. He lets you continue speaking before butting in, letting his arms dangle from the sides of the chair. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me to believe it will change my luck but I won’t change my mind. I have to know how to…perform.”

Perform is such an interesting choice of word. All of the sex the captain has ever had has been far less of a performance and more of a two person dance, locked in repetitive motions and tangled up as one form. He isn’t much for the sappy, intimate shit you’re clearly insinuating you’d like though he feels like he could help you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he starts, leaning back toward you and closing the distance to once again grant you some semblance of privacy. “I can show you how a man should treat a woman but I can’t promise you it’s how a husband will treat his wife, you understand?”

Your eyes widen and you nod once, picking up on his meaning immediately. Impressed by your sharp wit he smiles although it’s nearly as unfriendly as the ones exchanged at court and only slightly less smug. Leaning in toward him, your brows knit together, and you bunch your skirt up in your fists.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for, you know…” you trail off, frowning slightly. He pretends like he doesn’t understand what you mean, shaking his head and staring vacantly at your mouth. “I don’t know if I’m ready for you to take me.”

Another snort from him and your face heats like a wildfire. The two of you remained locked in this strange posture, whispering but not quite, discussing the terms of whatever is occurring here. Blood rushes from your face to your chest to your stomach, a familiar tense feeling between your legs making you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“The only one who would be doing any taking in that scenario is me and you don’t have to worry about that tonight.” He tips his mug and finishes off the last droplets of his ale, sliding the empty vessel across the table top where it stops just short of you. 

“What if we never see each other again after tonight?” That sappy shit he was right to assume you wanted has surfaced earlier than he expected. He shrugs flippantly, arching a brow. “Then we never see each other tonight but at least you can say you know how it feels when a man takes care of you.”

Inhaling loudly, you weigh your options. 

You can always get up and go home, turn tail and run to where you will always be viewed as something akin to a decorative sconce on the wall instead of a human being. Your opinion matters not, you’re a glorified caretaker for your younger siblings, some of who are your fathers rightful heirs thanks to the boyhood the Gods so mercifully granted them. You can retreat and continue wasting away waiting for a man who thrills you enough that you can ever see him as someone deserving of being your equal. 

Or, you can consider Yami’s offer. He’s rough around the edges and speaks with no formality or regard and you like it. At least you think you do. He doesn’t care who you are any more than the others around you do yet he makes you feel the most seen anyone ever has. He’s interested in your words, your ideas, and even your pleasure - a realization that makes the knot in your stomach tighten further.

“Okay.” You concede. “I think that I’d like that.”

The man rises from his seat, smirking, tossing some coins down on the table in front of him for the drink. 

“I know you will,” he finishes, words dripping with honesty but not arrogance. 

He begins to head toward the stairs that will lead the two of you upstairs and your breath catches when he looks over his shoulder and raises his brows, signaling with a wave that you should follow him. You toss a few more coins on the table in front of you, uncertain of how much a room in an establishment like this would cost to begin with, and rush to follow him with your cloak pulled tightly against your body.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

This room is nothing like your quarters at home where everything around you gleams in gold and marble and silk. It may be decidedly less impressive though it’s twice as cozy if you’re honest. 

The bed is barely large enough for two and there’s a well loved desk pushed against the wall, magical light flickering from the wall. Shutting the door unceremoniously, you swallow and feel the captain at your back, a large palm covering the entirety of the space between your shoulder blades. You don’t recall him seeming so imposing downstairs, glancing upward to meet his eyes. He can tell you are inexperienced solely by how skittish you’ve become beneath his fingertips, an intriguing shift from who you were sitting opposite him.

Boldly asking a man to pleasure you has told him everything about the person you are beneath the skirts and the trappings of society. If he waits long enough he knows that hungry girl will once again show her face to him and while he isn’t particularly patient, he believes it would be worth his while to wait. 

“Go sit on the edge of the bed.” He instructs right above your ear and gently shoves you toward where he’s commanded you be. 

You follow directions and sit, legs dangling off of the edge, unfastening your cloak and letting it rest on the bed. The knot in your belly remains tight, keeping you on edge with all of your movements while your walls throb weakly, arousal and curiosity bearing down on you with similar weight. Sukehiro towers over you, slowly unfastening his belt and cloak, leaving the leather goods and his katana on the desk. 

“I’m going to lick your pussy. Do you know what that means?”

Cheeks warming, once again surprised by his lack of decency, you nod once. You have read about this particular act more than once and have also heard about it secondhand from some of the married women you call friends although their reviews have been mixed. Books have always made it seem far more interesting, an exchange in the same way a kiss is between a man and the paradise between a woman’s legs. 

“Good, at least I won’t have to explain all the technicalities.” He approaches you slowly and squats down, now face level with your middle. You glance down at him and wonder if you should touch him, if he’d like it, if he’d want you to. “Lift your hips.” The next command gives you reprieve from overthinking and you do as asked, raising them enough that he can pull your nightgown from beneath your thighs, spreading them to fit between.

“If you don’t like something, speak up.” He glances up at you, holding your nightgown halfway over his face. “If you do like something, speak up and I’ll keep goin’.”

The linen of your nightgown stretches and tents in the shape of Yami’s head and shoulders when he pulls it over himself, too big to be fully covered by the fabric. His back is curled into a C shape and the muscles ripple while he positions you, hands that you can feel but cannot see gripping the outside of your soft thighs to keep you from deciding at the last minute you are feeling shy. 

It’s too late for you to fall back on the shy act now, your panties dangling off of one of your ankles. Even if you attempted, you know the man currently fixated on spreading you open with his fingers would surface from beneath your skirt and laugh at you. Your heart simply could not take the open derision and ridicule, already feeling overextended thanks to this evening’s excitement.

“Alright, you’re about to feel something different,” he warns kindly, puffs of his breath fanning out against the slickened skin of your labia. The low rumble of his voice sends another rush of wetness seeping out of your cunt, excitement mixing with terror while you await the pleasure you were promised. 

Your hips shift impatiently on the edge of the dingy inn bed, legs on either side of his still dressed torso. His tank top is untucked from his pants and he no longer wears his belt, discarding the unnecessary while remaining firmly in control of the situation. There isn’t much that makes his mouth water but the sight of warm and just for him pussy is doing just that, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

His thumbs massage the outside of your thighs, keeping you as relaxed as possible, and he leans in to kiss the temptation he can no longer deny himself. A simple smack, loud enough that you can both hear it, yet the moan that escapes you is positively sinful. High pitched and breathy and immediately obscured, clapping your palm over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. 

“Nope,” he simply responds from beneath your nightgown, hand reaching up to remove yours from over your mouth. “What’d I tell you? Half’a the fun is hearing how much you like it.”

One of the thumbs that was rubbing circles into your thigh now does the same on the back of your hand, calloused digit occasionally catching over the surface of your smooth skin. It’s no shock that your hands are soft like your body and your hair and your eyes, it’s what your life was meant to be like the minute you assumed the role of it.  Soft and easy, no roughness to throw you off track.

Yami chuckles and lets his tongue feel you this time, dragging the wet muscle through your folds, rewarded with another of those breathy moans. You do not rush to cover this one, tilting your head backward and letting your eyes flutter shut to focus on the sensation of another lick. He takes his time to get to know you slowly, brushing the flat of it over your hole and dragging the arousal he receives as a reward upward toward your clit.

He doesn’t release his skills on your sensitive bud so quickly but a simple brush of the side of his tongue against it is enough to make you squeal, shoulders rounding in momentarily. Repeating the motion, you squeal again and arch your back, thrusting your hips forward into his face and dragging every bit of you he can see across his mouth.

“W-what are you doing to me, Yami?” You ask breathlessly, elbows propping you up on the bed and keeping you grounded. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Your head swims with unfamiliar pressure, sparking a line from your brain to between your legs, all connected and you fight the urge to slump back onto the bed, too curious about the way that the light linen covering the man between your legs shrouds him. 

“Eating, obviously,” he mumbles against your body, tongue lapping against your clit. Your body reacts to each touch, thighs tensing on either side of his face, hips slowly bucking in pursuit of the feeling again and again. Your back arches and your moans are staccato babbles, elbows finally failing to hold you up when he gives your clit full attention.. “Oh my, wh–,” your back arches off of the bed before you can finish your thought, another rough lick to your throbbing clit followed by the warmth of his mouth while he sucks it between his lips, flicking the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. 

There is no denying that you may be prissy and perfectly pampered but he was clearly correct in his assumption about you being more than meets the eye. The way your body responds naturally to his ministrations, hips grinding and toes curling and lips keening, tells him every little secret you’re too demure to spill. You want to have sex for enjoyment, to chase your own pleasure and have your own fun. 

He’ll never fault someone for that although he believes he can get you to admit it’s the truth. Maybe not tonight but eventually he’ll convince you to drop the “good wife” act. If he weren’t enjoying himself so much he’d grumble about considering a future where the two of you will meet up for this again, too lost in his own enjoyment of your pretty noises to realize how unreasonable this was to begin with.

“Please keep going,” you beg, a tearless sob thickening your voice. 

Yami doesn’t look up, well aware of what he is capable of, but he keeps his hand over yours and continues rubbing gentle circles into it. You flip your hand and face your palm upward, loosely tangling your fingers with his, your hips now dragging across his lips wildly. It’s messy and you are dripping like a peak season fruit, drenching his chin and sending little droplets down onto his tank top and chest. Moans increase in pitch when his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your sweetness and drinking it down with satisfied grunts, though he can tell you’re close solely by how you ride his face alone.

You lack the words to describe how you feel, not that you are a stranger to self pleasure, but it’s different when someone else is showing you the maximum of how you can feel. Every inch of you buzzes with a pleasant awareness, nerve endings sparking like celebratory fireworks, and you lift yourself up with your elbows to glance down at the man making you feel more than you ever thought possible, your nightgown no longer around his head. You were so lost you didn’t even realize he shifted to holding your nightgown up above your belly button with the hand you aren’t keeping occupied, those astute eyes appreciatively watching your chest heave and face twist.

“Yami, I think,” you start and he chuckles, sucking your clit between his lips again, sending you over the edge and effectively making sure you know how exactly it feels when someone else makes you cum. 

Dots of light spark in the corners of your vision and you slump down onto the bed, too spent from the strength of your orgasm to remain upright. The perpetrator of your current state untangles your fingers from his wordlessly and he rises to standing, leaning over your exhausted body and propping himself up with his forearm.

“Good as you thought it would be?” 

Giggling, you nod. It’s all you can think to do, truly left wordless and thoughtless, grateful that what you read on the pages of the books you hide amongst your more chaste picks were somewhat accurate to how the experience feels. There has been no insinuation that he expects reciprocation so you don’t bring it up, quietly glancing up at him and noticing that the distance between your face and his decreases every few seconds.

“Now taste.” 

He closes the little distance left, tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. You grant him entrance and whimper when your mouth fills with the taste of his tongue, a mixture of acrid tobacco and ale and something you could only recognize as yourself. 

“Pretty good, right?” All you can do is nod dumbly, still splayed awkwardly across the bed. Should you leave? Should you stay? Is that pesky reciprocation going to come into the conversation now? Yami glances down at you with something you’d almost mistake for warmth in his cool irises, rolling onto his back beside you and folding his arms over his chest. “Are you going to head home now or what?” 

You shake your head, letting your flipped up skirt rest against your belly, the air of the room cooling your heated skin. “No but I’m not going to expect you to stay if you have other business to attend to. I will stay the night and leave before sunrise.”

It’s what’s polite. You did pay for an entire night, after all, and your raising will not allow you to be rude. Pushy and precocious at times but never outright disrespectful. The man next to you sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, turning his face to look at you. 

Maybe you are as pretty as he originally thought. It could be all the blood rushing from his head to his dick, a problem he is attempting to solve mentally by envisioning anything but the satisfying contractions of your cunt while it cums for him, but you glow even in this low light. 

“Only thing I have to do is go downstairs and drink and then I’ll just end up running my mouth and losing money.” 

You giggle at his honesty, turning your face to look at him. The gruffness only adds to his aura, as unrefined as a man can be, yet you really do like it. Even if the two of you sit here in silence for the rest of the night, there’s much you feel you can learn by simply gazing at him, a quiet battle of wills unfolding between the two of you like the mist that fills the city on a summer morning. 

Permeating, inescapable, potentially trouble.

[just-a-ghost00]

Pick a kpop song and I'll tell you who is having naughty thoughts of you [18+]

Minors do not interact. This is part 1 of a series of 3 posts. We will try to get a bunch of details that will help us identify this person. This will be a lengthy reading, so I may have to publish several posts. If that's the case, I will write down the link to the other parts so that you don't get lost.

Slow it down make it bouncy ~

Threads of fate oracle cards | The Void, Underworld, Patience, Fate

This person may be someone you share a very special connection with. One that is very intimate, and that doesn't mean that you necessarily had physical contact with this person. You are very close with this person, closer than you've ever been with anyone else because you know things about each other that no body knows. That's the intimacy I'm talking about. Another thing I am picking up on is linked to the egg represented on the fate card. It reminded me of the drama series "Alchemy of Souls". In the series, Naksu/Mudeok and Jang Uk share a "private joke" about birds and their eggs. Jang Uk compares Mudeok to a fragile egg that was left alone at the top of a tree and that needs to be taken care of and protected at all costs to be able to survive and see the light of day. Thus, he compares himself to a surrogate bird mom charged of watching over that egg until it can soar high in the sky. This comparison may be significant to you and this person. The dynamic of the two characters overall may be similar to the one you share with this person. Jang Uk and Naksu/Mudeok both need each other desperately at first and their relationship is mainly one based on a mutual accord to take advantage of the other's position and skills, as they're aware they have no other option but to cooperate to reach their personal goals. But the more the plot progresses, the closer they get and the more special their bond becomes. With the combination of Void, Underworld and Patience, I really get that vibe of two people that were forced by external circumstances to meet each other and learn to cooperate because they have a common destiny. In doing so, they have to learn patience and to face their shadows while keeping their relationship hidden. This feeling of secrecy comes off very strongly. If you know this person, you may not be in contact with them at the moment and whatever happened between the two of you is a secret that both of you share. I also got the message that either one of you could be a psychic. The purpose of that person then may be to awaken the other's psychic potential. We will get further details with two different decks to see if these intuitions are further confirmed. In terms of zodiac signs, I was mainly picking up on Scorpio but there may be other signs that come up later on in the reading.

White Numen Tarot cards | page of swords, 7 of cups, 2 of cups, page of pentacles, knight of wands, Black Numen, back of the deck Moon

In terms of zodiac signs, we have the following being represented : Scorpio, Cancer, Leo, Pisces, Gemini, Virgo. I am getting a clearer picture of who this person could be and what is going on between you. I am shown that they are close to you in age and in energy. Their path and maturity when it comes to their spirituality is similar to yours. This is a person that tends to mirror you. You could have met this person at a time in your life where you were feeling a bit lost or unsure about your future. This was a turning point in your life and it was also the case for this person. I get a perfect place perfect timing vibe from this spread. You or they may be a student. You learn a lot from each other. Though you are very similar, your differences allow you to grow drastically and question your beliefs. This is a person that you may feel very attracted to on a physical level. This person may have several centers of interest that keep them busy. You may be contacting them a lot using social media. You could have met them through travelling or they could come from a different culture. With the energy of the Moon I get the message that this person may have brought a lot of old stuff to the surface when you met them. Fears you thought you had overcome. Worries about the past and future. They could also be someone you dream about a lot and/or a person you met at night. This person definitely is linked to you through the force of karma. Your souls knew of each other before. As for the type of bond you share, I feel like putting a label on it wouldn't be relevant. What you need to know is that this meeting happened for a reason and that you felt it coming. You knew right away that this person would play an important role in your journey, and they probably felt it too.

Crystals oracle cards | Meteorite, Citrine, Moonstone, back of the deck Tourmalined Quartz

First of all, I feel compelled to mention the colors that were associated with these cards. Soft browns, beige and pastel purples/pinks seem to be relevant. What comes first to mind is how soft this person can be. I will know focus on each card individually as some details on those caught my attention.

Meteorite - Connect to your "star stuff" : this card mentions that meteorite comes in three forms and that people who may need to work with their energy are "children of the stars". The majority of the messages revolved around cosmic and galactic energy. This made me think that this person could spend a lot of time stargazing or looking at the clouds as a way to feel connected with you. And you may be doing the same. The other thing I was picking up on is that maybe your souls come from the same original place. If you believe in concepts such as starseeds, light language and such, this may resonate with you. I also thought of Saint Exupery's The Little Prince.

Citrine - Manifest your masterpiece : this card revolved around dreams and artistic endeavors, of doing everything in your power to manifest your wildest dreams. So you and this person may have a common creative project that you work on, a common goal or dream that you talked about. This may be the secret we were mentioning in the beginning. (I also heard "in the beninging" from that meme lmao so maybe you share a lot of private jokes and memes)

Moonstone - Find your natural rythm : this card mentioned travelling as well as star gazing. So your person may travel a lot in their daily life. It's a stone ment to increase empathy and intuition among other things. So it wouldn't be surprising if this person was a healer in blooming, a natural empath. I also got the message that they were incredibly sensual. Taurus energy came in strongly here.

Tourmalined Quartz - Restore your perfect light : with this card I was told that your person is often surrounded by a lot of people whom may not have the best intentions towards them. A lot of people look up to them but also envy them and wish for them to fail. Your person may be struggling with impostor syndrome as well as social anxiety.

All these cards combined lead me to believe that the person we are talking about is someone that is quite popular and radiates a lot of light and love around them. They have a pure heart and soul, are very loving and generous but may face a lot of backlash and challenges, because their light tends to trigger people's shadows. This may be something that questioned them and made them think they were a bad person, or that maybe they deserved to be treated badly. This may be something that you have struggled with as well. Which would explain why your paths crossed.

In another reading, we may be enquiring about the content of this person's thoughts and maybe why you met them. I hope that this reading was insightful and helped you figure out who this person was. I would be more than happy to get your feedback in the comments. Stay tuned to get the tea about this person ~

Mr. Rover, I'm coming over ~

Threads of fate cards | back of the deck The Void, Death, The Alchemist, The Explorer

This is really interesting. Your energy may be tied to group 1 as well. If you hesitated between the two groups, you may want to check out group 1's reading. With the Void card, I am told that you are not in contact with this person. They likely live at a distance from you. Sometimes, you may feel like you and this person are worlds apart and that there is no way you could understand each other. Yet, you do. You are polar opposites. And everything may look like you wouldn't match. However, this person gets you like no other. With this spread I am picking up on fixed sign energy mainly, especially Scorpio and Aquarius, as well as Pisces. The Alchemist card makes me think that this person could be a tarot reader or at least they are interested in forms of divination. Butterflies and stars seem to be relevant to this connection. The Explorer card denotes an energy of being restless, feeling like you don't belong where you are and wanting to broaden your horizons. Both you and this person may have connected over the feeling of being different from the rest of your community, of feeling like where you are isn't what's meant for you and more is waiting elsewhere. Of feeling like your body is too small for you. Like you are not truly comfortable in your skin and wish you were something or someone else. You both may have struggled with anxiety and severe depression. You both may have gone through a dark night of the soul. You both are good manifesters and have big ambitions. You both tend to uproot belief systems and push yourselves beyond your limits because you have a deep desire and need for expansion. You could have met this person while travelling, this travel could have been an unconscious one. Meaning, you could have met this person in the 5D before you met them in person. For some of you, you don't know this person yet. But you feel them energetically. Especially, if you practice meditation or lucid dreaming. We will get further information with two more decks. Hopefully, this could confirm what we've been talking about for now. I also get the message that both of you could have the capacity to communicate with spirits/ghosts. Another thing that could have brought you together could be the passing of a person. This is very specific, but for some of you I get the message that the spirit of a loved one interfered in your favor to get you to meet this person. They did so with the hope that it would help you cope with their passing.

White Numen Tarot cards | back of the deck High Priestess, Queen of cups, 8 of pentacles, Hierophant, knight of pentacles, 9 of wands, White Numen

Taurus energy is heavily present here, as well as Leo and Scorpio. So fixed sign energy definitely. With the High Priestess, this person is definitely into the occult and likely to have psychic abilities. This is a person that gives off a very mysterious vibe. They are very secretive and closed off, they mind their own business and don't share their secrets with just anyone. They are very protective of their space because they just know how people's envy can sometimes affect the outcome of their manifestations. This person is highly intuitive and sensitive. They are caring and nurturing. A natural healer. They have a lot of feminine energy that they gladly share. They are dedicated, hard working, patient. This is a person that doesn't give up easily. The word "failure" is not a part of their vocabulary. This person is determined to win and learn no matter what. This person is aware that whatever outcome they get, they will always be victorious one way or another. This is a person that is traditional but also very spiritual, they are well educated and incredibly wise. They could be a teacher or a mentor of some sort. They are extremely cautious and may sometimes be slow to act. But you can be sure that whatever this person does, they will reach their goal. They like to create and work with the Universe. They follow their path slowly but surely, one step at a time and make sure that they learn their lesson. This is a person that understands how the Universe works and goes with the flow. They are not afraid to take a turn or face struggles because they know that at the end of the day, they will get what's right for them and meant for them. They have a lot of confidence and inner knowing that allows them to navigate life peacefully. People could say that this person is married to their work because of how dedicated they are. They are loyal to a fault and are not the kind to abandon people out of the blue. They are very respectful of others and always try to include everyone. This person is also naturally beautiful and sensual. They instantly make you feel safe and understood. You may have met this person in a work or educational setting. Again, for this group I am getting a very fated meeting. Your energies were aligning way before you met. And this person may have consciously manifested you into their life.

Crystal oracle cards | back of the deck Epidote, Libyan Gold Tektite, Malachite, Kunzite

Right off the bat I get a very charming, exotic vibe from this person. Most of these stones are mined in hot countries, especially African ones. The colors also felt very sensual. They kinda reminded me of Egypt and Cleopatra specifically. This person could be a history nerd. They could be of African descent. I will focus on each card individually to point out certain details that caught my attention.

Epidote - Upgrade your version of you : this stone is mentioned as the "get what you give" stone. Which highlights this person's spiritual nature and generosity. This is a person that works on themselves a lot, that constantly tries to be better and do better. They have a bit of a workaholic attitude.

Libyan gold tektite - Banish your "blahs" : this stone forms in the Sahara desert. So this person could have North African to Central African origins, especially Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, Egypt. This peron is goal oriented and pretty stubborn. When they have something in mind, it's hard to get them to change their point of view. Sometimes this person can exhaust themselves pretty quickly because of how hard they work. They tend to work extremely hard at a high frequency very early on and thus burn their energy very quickly.

Kunzite - Open up your love channel : they have trust issues because of past relationships. They tend to be hard on themselves and blame themselves for past failures when in reality they were not responsible for what happened. They tend to put others' needs first and forget their own. This person is very loving and can sacrifice themselves in the name of love.

Malachite - Claim your success : this person is humble. They may tend to bring themselves down or attribute their success to others because they may feel like they don't deserve recognition. They have a very altruistic nature. They are very creative but have a hard time following through with their ideas. They tend to be all over the place sometimes, especially if they've been giving a lot of their time and energy to others.

With the combined energy of all these cards, I picture a woman with a motherly nature, that tends to be the mom of the group. Someone very discreet and quiet that always encourages others and shows affection through acts of service. Someone that can do benevolant work just for the sake of giving. A person that is very sensitive to people's struggles. The kind of person that would cry seeing an animal being hurt and out in the streets. The kind of person that would give out their clothes and money to a person in need. A person that was raised in a religious household and taught to never look down on people and never forget where they came from. Someone from a modest family that rose up to success through their hard work and strong inner belief. A person that has a strong moral compass and lives according to their principles, regardless of what people may think of them. Someone that, because of this mentality, tends to be alone and has a hard time connecting with other people.

I'm the charmer ~

Threads of fate oracle cards | back of the deck Paradox, Love, Self Love, Play

The person we are talking about is someone that may confuse you a lot. With this Paradox card, I get a Star vibe from it, which reminds me of Aquarius. So this person could have Aquarius as one of their main signs. This also tells me that you could have met this person online or if you met in person, your main mean of communication is the Internet. I also get the vibe of someone being a bit popular and very busy with their work and hobbies. This person could be very active on social media and thus investing in many projects with different people. The spread also gives me a feeling of two friends walking on the line of romance. The lines may be blurred with this person. At some moment you may feel like they only perceive you as a friend but other times things they say or do may make you question their feelings for you. And this could actually be because this person is feeling the same toward you. I feel like both of you aren't sure of what the other means to you and what you want out of this connection. This could be a FWB situation or just a mutual crush that both of you kind of ignore for some reason. Peacocks and dolphins may be significant signs. Overall, I get the vibe that you and this person get along very well and have a lot of fun with each other. No matter the distance or the time spent apart, whenever you see this person again or interact again, it always feels like you never really were separated. It's like the last time you spoke was yesterday, even if you may have been in a no contact situation for decades. The affection you have for each other is never dying off. I get a very good vibe from this spread and this person. This is someone who's intensions are pure and loving. I kinda get a starcrossed lovers vibe from this group. But more importantly, I feel like the main reason why this person is special to you is beacause they are a part of your soul tribe. This is someone that uplifts you and supports you no matter what, though you may be complete opposites and have different opinions about the world. This person just respects you deeply and appreciates you for who you are. I pick up on a lot of affection and gratitude for each other. It's like both of you only truly feel at peace with one another. Not only does this person give you love but they also gently nudge you into loving yourself more instead of constantly nurturing others. When both of you are interacting, a lot of healing is happening. One thing that may really help you identify this person, I feel, is that this is someone you share a lot of laughter with. You may have a lot of private jokes, secret codes that only you know of, memories of deep conversations that you couldn't have had with anyone else. Honestly this really gives me a best friends to lovers vibe. I also pick up on Pisces energy.

White Numen tarot cards | back of the deck Judgement, Hierophant, Emperor, 2 of pentacles, 5 of pentacles, 5 of swords, 2 of wands

Before I dive in any further, I wish to point out that while I shuffled the deck cards kept falling in big groups and it felt like the energy was all over the place. This gave me the impression that there may be several people that are thinking of you. So if you were drawn to different piles, this may be a confirmation that this is your case. Also I felt like one person specifically was doing their best not to think of you but it's just something that they can't help. If this person ends up thinking of you despite their resistance, then things get out of control and they feel like they can never get their composure back again. In terms of Zodiac signs, we have Scorpio, Taurus, Aries mainly. For some of you I think your exes could be potentially among the people that think of you. Whether those were just friends or actual lovers. I feel like many people who may not have manifested any sign of attraction for you ar now reminiscing about you and wishing that they had given you a chance. Which to me is further confirmed by the spread. With he Judgement card and the combination of the cards, I am given a message that this person or these people could be coming in and out of your life lately and some of them may be trying to find an opportunity to express their attraction. I particularly pick up on the energy of someone you may have had a fallout with because of external circumstances, that is now realizing how much you mean to them and wanting to come back into your life. This person I feel misses the feeling of being with you and more importantly they feel like their chance was stolen from them. Like something happened that prevented them from truly giving your relationship a chance. Like, for example, let's imagine you moved into a city and met a person. Things were going well and this person developped feelings for you. When they were about to reveal their feelings to you, you announced them that you were moving out of the city because of your work. This kind of feeling. For some, it could even be that you got into a relationship with someone else before they could even confess their feelings to you and they were cut short by that. Out of respect for you, they chose to remain silent but now they just can't hold it in anymore. This is someone that envisioned a future with you and wanted to commit to you, but they may have taken a long time to find the courage to make the necessary adjustments in their life to enable this connection to flourish. Another possibility is that your faith or your family were a main obstacle in your connection, which caused you to separate ways.

Crystals oracle cards | back of the deck Smoky Quartz, Sapphire, Labradorite, Herkimer Diamond

First of all, I picked up on very specific details that may not resonate with everyone. One person may be a smoker. One person may have a pet cat or a pet dog. One person may have blue eyes.

Smoky Quartz - Arm your spiritual warrior : this is a stone that speaks about protecting your energies from energy vampires and people that may stand in your way. So maybe the person we're talking about may have been someone that wasn't always good to you.

Sapphire - Find your tranquil place : this stone speaks about freeing yourself from the judgmental opinions of you others may have as well as grudges you may hold. So this person could have helped you with your self confidence over the years but they could also have hurt you in other ways. This may be a person you have mixed feelings about because of your common past.

Labradorite - Protect your magic : Canada may be significant. Pisces is coming up again with this card. This person may have helped you with reconciling with love and romance. They may also have helped you realize your own worth.

Herkimer diamond - Power wash your energy : this is a cleansing crystal. Despite its name, it is not a diamond. This person may thus have been someone that you mistook for something they were not. People may underestimate or overestimate this person. They could be someone that enjoys travelling or you may have met them while travelling. New York may be significant to some of you.

With all that being said, I feel like many energies are being mixed within this group but the overall vibe seems to be that most of the people we're talking about are people from your past that you may not be in contact with anymore on a daily basis. Some of them you may not even suspect of having such thoughts about you. You may be happy that some of them are not in your life anymore but others you may miss and wonder about.

[sanguineterrain]

I am FERAL over your knight Jason thought. FERAL!!! Okay check this out: so Jason's ignoring reader because he feels guilty right? Maybe he tried to give them back but the king wouldn't allow it. But maybe the reader misunderstands and thinks they're not doing their "duties" so they make dinner and breakfast and wash his clothes and basically act like a perfect spouse. How would Jason react? 👀

Dear god... I feel another series coming on...

Idkidk, their dynamic is just really interesting to me! it's probably gonna be a bit of a slow burn here. Feel free to send more thoughts about them. I am rotating these two like a rotisserie chicken in my brain.

knight!jason todd x gn!reader. ambiguous time period but just assume it's olden times *gestures vaguely*. tw arranged marriage/forced relationship but it's complicated! jason is full of angst and self-loathing but he's a sweetie as per usual. original post for context.

****

The soldier—Jason—has said four words since you've arrived.

The first was "here," which he said whilst handing you a mug of milk. He didn't look at you as he said it, and that morning, he left for a five-day long station. You only know that because he said, after handing you the milk, "I've been stationed."

You realized it was five days when you heard his horse galloping towards the house... five days later.

You haven't initiated conversation because though you're a commoner, and no one ever had much hope for you to become anything but an old spinster, you know not to challenge knights.

But this is fucking ridiculous.

"Do you like veal?" you ask on your fourteenth day here.

Jason is about to leave, his boots half laced. He freezes at your question and looks up.

You stand tall, chin up. This is a normal question. A question a wife would ask her husband, except you're not a wife, and you're pretty sure this soldier isn't a husband either.

"I like veal," he says carefully, slowly. "Would you like me to fetch some from the market?"

Now, this is where it gets tricky. When the king summoned you, he made it clear that you were expected to care for Jason under his rules. You don't know how to navigate this world. You know what couples in your village do, but you don't know what's expected of you here.

"Actually, I..." Jason looks at you. His eyes are very green. He has a surprisingly sweet face under his helmet. "Actually, I was wondering if I could go. On my own."

"Oh."

You brace yourself for arguing or yelling. True, he hasn't raised his voice once, but he also hasn't said much at all. It's like living with a ghost.

"Yes, of course. Of course you can go." He fishes out a pouch of coins and gives them to you. You take it slowly, waiting for him to realize his mistake. He doesn't.

"Thank you," you say.

He nods and watches you walk.

"Wait."

You stop. Here it comes.

"There's a cargo ship in port today. The guards rotate at noon."

He leaves before you can form a thought. You hold the coins, watching blankly as the door shuts behind him. His horse whinnies, and then he's gone.

The market isn't far from the cottage. It's fantastic to be outside again. No one's noticed your absence, clearly, but that's alright. You've never expected more.

You buy a good cut of veal and potatoes and carrots and apples. Jason gave you more money than any cut of meat would cost, so surely he assumed you would buy other food. Why else would he give you so much?

A ship's horn drones in the distance. You're feeling some oranges when you remember his words. A cargo ship.

The sun is almost at its highest point.

"Oi! Either buy 'em or stop feelin' 'em!" the seller snaps.

You roll your eyes and move on from the orange stand. You can see the horizon of where the sky meets the sea from here. Any moment, the guards will change, and the ship will be...

You stop. Was Jason hinting at your escape?

No, he couldn't have been! That's preposterous. Why would he want you gone? The king took you for a reason.

And where would you go anyway? Once you leave, you'd be a criminal forever. You couldn't make a home on your own. And who knows what could happen in between? Pirates, enemy soldiers, anybody could snatch you up.

This must've been a test. A test to see if you would run. That's why he agreed to you going so easily.

No, your escape can't be planned now. Not when you're so obviously uncomfortable, and Jason knows it.

You ignore the ship and go home with your purchases. You spend the rest of the afternoon preparing veal stew. You warm leftover bread over the fire and set a pot of butter on the table.

Jason comes in louder than he has before, humming quietly. You perk up at the sound, happy for the lack of silence.

You set a bowl of stew at his chair and wait by the fire. As soon as he enters the kitchen, the humming stops.

"Welcome home," you say, wringing your hands. "I made supper."

Jason glances at the table, then back at you.

"You came back," he says.

"Why wouldn't I?" you ask, face neutral as you cut the bread into chunks.

"That—did the ship come?"

"Yes."

Jason sits. His face is dirty from training.

"I bought more than veal," you say, and hand him the pouch. "I hope that's alright. We—there were no more potatoes."

He takes the pouch, rubbing the string tied around the top. "You went to the marketplace... and came back."

It's not a question, but it sounds like there might be one behind it.

"Certainly," you say. "I'm loyal to you, Jason. I serve you."

He looks up, blinking rapidly. Then he looks back at his stew.

Oh, right. He's waiting for you to ask permission to sit.

"May I join you?" you ask.

Jason flinches. "You don't... you don't have to ask. I would never stop you from eating."

The words hang in the air. It's like neither one of you can speak right.

You watch him, and he watches you as you serve yourself and sit on the opposite side of the table. Jason takes the first bite, and you eat right after.

"Is the supper satisfactory? Have I done well?" you ask.

Jason stops chewing and sets his spoon down. You're struck by his shift in demeanor. You worry for a moment you've screwed up something as dim-wittingly simple as stew.

His eyes are sad as they fall on you. It's akin to grief, the pain he wears, but you don't know why he's grieving. You silently offer him more bread, pushing it toward him. He takes it.

"Yes," he says quietly and eats another spoonful. "You did. Thank you for supper."

Jason cleans his bowl three times. You have no stew leftover, which pleases you.

But as soon as Jason finishes eating, he gets up, rinses his bowl, and wordlessly leaves.

You don't see him for the rest of the night.

Somehow, you feel lonelier than when you weren't speaking.

[hopepetal]

This story is set in @applestruda's boatem knights au! I've wanted to write something with Gem for a while, so here it is!

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

It’s been so long since her last bounty, and Gem is itching for a fight. 

This much, she tells Cleo while watching the armorer work on their newest project. Gem’s frequent visits had allowed the two to grow close over the course of her bounty hunting career, to the point where it wasn’t always business that brought her there. Sometimes, it was just for casual conversation, or just because Gem was bored or passing through the area. 

Cleo raises an eyebrow, not looking up from her work. “Tell you what,” she begins, turning the chest plate slightly so that it could catch the light, “it’s all well and good that you want a fight until you get yourself caught up in one you can’t win.” 

Gem scoffs at that as she leans against the counter. “Oh, I never lose. You don't need to worry about me, Cleo.”

“That’s what Etho kept saying, before you chopped his damn head off.” 

Rolling her eyes, Gem flicks her braid behind her shoulder. “That was Etho. And, as you clearly haven’t forgotten, I was the one who did the chopping there. So thanks, but I think I’m good.”

Cleo chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Just return here in one piece, alright? I can’t be losing my best customer.”

Gem sets her elbows on the counter, leaning forward with a cheery grin. “Best customer and best friend?” 

“Get out.”

And so Gem finds herself wandering back to the kingdom of Dogwarts, in search of work and a fight. Maybe both. For her, it usually was. It’s why she chose this path of employment, of course– one didn’t just stumble into becoming a bounty hunter. Unless they were particularly skilled at said stumbling, of course. 

It’s been a while since Gem’s been in the bustling kingdom, and the stark difference between the outer lands and the kingdom always amazes her. She knew that the kingdom boasted the most prestigious redstone academy in the continent, but it’s another thing entirely to see that in action. 

Compared to the sparse population of the outer lands, the kingdom is a bustling city full of people. They continue to add on new developments each year, the construction drawing even more people to the kingdom for work on top of the people already moving in. It was certainly a far cry from the occasional village Gem stumbled upon in the outer lands.

The other difference that really stood out to her was the difference in how prevalent magic was. In the outer lands, magic is everywhere– from daily tasks to impressive feats, it was impossible to go one day without seeing some sort of spell. In the kingdom, it’s a lot more common to see redstone inventions being used in place of magic, though magic is still used. It was much more noticeable to Gem, who travels back and forth frequently between the two extremes. 

It wasn’t long before Gem ends up making her way into the local tavern, the place where she found most of the jobs she took. It’s rowdy as ever, and she finds herself missing the quiet of her friend’s tavern. Nevertheless, she quickly finds her usual seat and orders her usual drink, greeting the bartender with a tired smile. 

“Anything new?” she asks after a few minutes, when the bartender wasn’t so swamped with orders. 

The bartender shrugs. “Not really? But there was something that caught my eye.” They set down their glass for a moment and duck below the bar, grabbing a paper and placing it in front of Gem. “An older one, but it’s resurfaced recently with everyone cleaning out all the more urgent ones.” With that, the bartender gives her a pointed look, to which she responds with a laugh. “Anyway. A runaway who destroyed a very important lab of the king and escaped on foot with precious redstone and technology. He’s assumed to be armed and very dangerous.”

Gem pulls the paper to her, looking it over closely. It seemed to be an average bounty– especially for who had put it out. The man’s face is inked in an artistic depiction of him beneath his ‘WANTED’ notice and list of crimes. What most stands out to her is his incredibly sharp mustache and scruffy beard. “Mm… I see. And this was put out by the king’s advisor himself? I’m surprised it’s gone unclaimed for so long.”

The bartender shrugs, continuing to go about their job as they converse with Gem. “I think most people were daunted by the task. That, and those who tried to find this man simply couldn’t. He’s a slippery fellow, so I’ve been told.”

Gem laughs, her eyes not leaving the man’s inked face. “Well, I’ve been told I have quite the talent for catching those who hide in the shadows.” Quite literally, if she thought back to her last big job. Which, while it had technically ended in success, isn’t really something she wants to go through again. 

Gem had not signed up for magical creatures that revived when you cut off their heads. A simple redstone thief with a penchant for explosions? Yeah, she had this one in the bag. 

“I’ll take it,” she tells the bartender, folding up the paper and sticking it into her bag. “Sounds like a fun little job.” 

The bartender chuckles, shaking their head. “How long do you think this one’s going to take you?” they ask, already knowing Gem’s answer. 

“A month, tops.” She says this with the same confident smile that she always wears when going out on jobs. “Any more than that, and I owe you a drink.”

The bartender throws a towel over their shoulder, laughing. “Well, can’t wait for that to never happen. I’m sure you’ll be back even sooner than we expect as usual, with a story to tell.”

Finishing her drink, Gem stands back up. “I never disappoint,” she promises, sliding the payment for her drink over the table. “I’ll see you then! And thanks for the tip!” she calls, making her way out of the tavern.

It was time to go hunt down a redstoner. 

It actually isn't as hard as she thought. 

The man– Mumbo, his name is– has made a name for himself in the outer lands to the North. Gem can't help but be a little surprised. She's never had a bounty with such mixed public opinion; some people absolutely love him, while others want his head to roll. 

“That man?” Someone had scoffed when she asked, shaking their head. “Void below, I can't stand him. He's a genius, sure, but the noise he makes!” They had clicked their tongue disapprovingly. “And when I complained about it and asked him to be a little more quiet, he threw bricks through my window!”

Another person– a young woman– had a dreamy expression when Gem asked her about Mumbo. “He's such a cute knight! One time, he helped me get my cat down from a tree…” 

Her friend had raised an eyebrow. “Clara, he climbed up into the tree and fell off of it. Your cat got down all on her own.”

Clara hadn't responded, lost in her daydreaming.

The more she asks around, the more mixed answers she receives. 

Gem couldn't help but laugh at that. This bounty would be interesting, if nothing else. 

She finds the camp easily enough. All she has to do is ask where the knights are, and she's pointed in the right direction. It's almost a full day on foot– she leaves her horse at the nearest village to be more stealthy. 

It’s getting colder out. The leaves are beginning to shift from green to yellow and orange, sparks of red standing out amongst the others. Gem’s feet crunch against the ground as she travels down the path, hands stuck in her pockets to keep them warm. 

She’s been wandering around the area for about a week now, gathering intel on the group. From what she can tell, they’re a close group of four friends: Impulse, Grian, Scar, and her target, Mumbo. She doesn’t get close enough to really hear them talking. She’d heard of avians’ enhanced hearing and doesn’t want to take her chances with getting too close. If the stories she’d heard were true, she didn’t want to get caught by these guys. Especially given what she was here to do.

At one point, she got a little closer to the camp to listen in on a conversation. She had an extra invisibility potion, and she figured she could put it to use for this job. Though she knew enough about the so-called “knights”, more information couldn’t hurt. 

The one with brown hair and a very stabbable chest– his name is Scar, she recalls– leans against Grian, the avian of the group. “So, the plan is to head out tomorrow?”

Impulse nods. “Yep. You’re good to stay behind to keep Pearl company, Mumbo?”

Mumbo leans forward, his hands folded in front of him on the table. He looks so polite when he speaks that Gem can hardly believe he’s a hardened criminal. “Of course! I’ll make sure she doesn’t get too lonely.”

Gem frowns at that, but quickly shakes away the uncertainty. If there was another person here, she would’ve seen them by now. Pearl is probably the dog that was prowling around the camp.

Grian sighs and pushes Scar off him, standing up. “Well, I’m absolutely shattered, so I’m going to bed. We gotta get up early if we’re gonna be traveling tomorrow.” He looks up, gaze sweeping over the knights and then around the camp. 

At the same time, the wind shifts, and Scar stiffens. His eyes meet Gem’s. Gem sucks in a breath, and has to check to make sure her invisibility potion is still working. 

It is, but it doesn’t stop her from shivering as Scar’s gaze lingers, then pulls away.

After a moment, Scar stands, putting on a fake pouty face. “Aww, okay. Goodnight, G! Night, Impulse. Night, Mumbo!” 

A chorus of goodnights echoes from the group, and Gem slips away unnoticed. 

The forest is anything but quiet at night. Gem is safe up in the trees, and sleep comes easy to her after years of travel, but she remembers her first year of adventuring and the hellish noises that kept her up for hours.

A skeleton rattles below. Further away, a zombie groans. Gem leans against the tree and closes her eyes.

Gem rises with the sun and to the rhythmic sound of horse hooves against well-packed dirt. She exhales, breath turning to fog, before stretching. She turns her head to the side, tracking the sound of hooves. Only when it fades off into the distance does she untie herself from the branch and jump down, finally able to stretch fully.

She takes an hour or two to wake up and gather all her things. It’s almost midday by the time she sheathes her sword after warming up and begins her trek to the camp. It likely won’t come down to a fight, from what she knows about Mumbo, but one can never be too careful. She knows not to underestimate an enemy.

It is somewhat pathetic that she’s able to walk up right behind him without him even noticing, but Gem chalks that up to her being very good at her job.

“Hey there, Mumbo!” she greets, and can’t help but laugh as he shrieks and falls over backwards. “Oop, careful! Don’t hurt yourself.”

Mumbo scrambles back and to his feet, looking up at Gem with wide eyes. “What– what on earth– who are you?! How do you know my name?”

Gem tilts her head to the side, keeping the smile on her face. “I’m Gem. Nice to meet you.” She takes a step forward. “King Ren placed a bounty on your head, and I’m here to collect! Do you want to come with me willingly, or…?” She places a hand on the hilt of her sword.

Mumbo pales. “Well, look, okay, there’s been a misunderstanding!” He holds his hands up as he steps back, eyes darting around wildly. “There’s no need for violence! I’m a very peace loving guy! Peace, love, and plants, y’know!”

Gem raises an eyebrow. “By force, then! That’s cool!” She draws her sword.

Mumbo does what any average person would do– scream, then run away.

Gem, of course, chases. It’s easy enough to catch up to Mumbo and trip him, sending the taller man falling to the ground with another shriek. She quickly puts her sword to Mumbo’s throat, and he freezes.

“...please don’t kill me?” he asks after a moment, chest heaving as he stares up at her. “I don’t, I won’t lie to you, I don’t particularly want to die?” 

Gem laughs, shaking her head. “I’m not going to kill you. I just need to bring you back to the king so I can collect your bounty!” She pulls her sword away, twirling it in her hand. “Whatever happens to you after is on him, not me.” She tilts her head. “Also, didn't you have a beard?”

Mumbo blinks. “What? No, I– hold on, a beard?! I know they always get my mustache wrong, but a beard? And what do you mean, a bounty?”

Gem puts her sword back at Mumbo’s throat. “I think they have to hire a new portrait artist. Anyway! I need to take you to the King, so I can get paid, and you can be brought to justice, et cetera.”

“But we can talk about this!” Mumbo pleads. “Surely I could pay you or something, I have quite a lot of things, I–!”

The only warning Gem is given is Mumbo’s gaze darting to the side. Someone slams into her, sending her stumbling away.

Gem turns and sweeps her sword out in time to block the blade of a scythe. The impact jars both her and her attacker, giving Gem enough time to reorient herself.

The woman straightens up, and her fever-clouded eyes focus on Gem. Her wings are flared out, displaying eyespots that stare down at Gem. “Why are ya messin’ with my knights?” 

From where he’s fallen, Mumbo yelps, “Pearl!”

Ah. So this is the Pearl they had been talking about. Gem curses herself for making assumptions, then tightens her grip on her sword and grins. “You wanna fight? Fantastic!” 

Pearl lets out a sharp breath, and Gem doesn’t fail to notice how her hands tremble slightly holding her scythe. “Not very fair of you to attack Mumbo while he’s all alone, don't ya think?”

Gem laughs as she shifts into a fighting stance. “I’d say it’s more fair than a 2v1!”

“I’m staying out of this!” Mumbo interjects, continuing to back away. “Good luck, Pearl!”

Pearl tilts her head. “That fair enough for you?” She doesn’t wait for Gem to answer, folding her wings tight against her back and lunging for her. 

It’s been a while since Gem’s had a good fight. Since Etho, she thinks, though the fight with him had been made interesting by his strange abilities with shadows and ice. Pearl isn't using any magic– it's pure skill that Gem is fighting against, and it's been a while since she's fought anyone like this. 

As the fight goes on, though, it becomes more clear to Gem just how unfocused Pearl is. By the looks of it, she'd just rolled out of bed when Mumbo screamed. Gem shakes away any doubts about fighting someone who is clearly ill as she blocks a strike that would've taken her arm off. 

“Wow!” she exclaims, ducking and stepping to the side as Pearl's scythe sweeps over her, “you're really going all out, huh?” 

Pearl laughs in response to that, as if they were two friends sparring for fun. “You were attacking my Mumbo! ‘course I'm goin’ all out!”

Gem swings out with her sword again, catching Pearl's leg with her blade. “Your Mumbo is a wanted criminal!”

Pearl yelps and stumbles back. She holds out her scythe in a defensive position.

Gem takes a moment to catch her breath, staring at Pearl. “It'd be best if you just hand Mumbo over! I promise I won't hurt him!”

Pearl shakes her head. “Absolutely not, mate! Mumbo is family!” 

Gem shrugs. “Your grave, then!” 

She lunges. 

The fight has a sort of rhythm to it. Gem lunges, Pearl blocks. Pearl slices with her scythe, Gem dodges. The rhythm is only broken by Pearl occasionally stumbling– which Gem takes advantage of to strike out and nick Pearl. She's never able to make too deep a cut, and Pearl gets her back plenty of times, but she lands enough hits to start feeling much better about her chances of winning. 

...and then she's on the ground, dew soaking into her clothes as she lies there. Her sword is gone, fallen out of her hand in the struggle. 

She looks up at Pearl, who stands above her. Her cheeks are reddened by exertion and fever, her hair is cascading over her shoulders in messy waves, and most infuriatingly there is a smile on her lips even as she holds her scythe to Gem's throat. 

Gem doesn't move. She waits, with bated breath, for Pearl to kill her.

Instead, Pearl sheathes her scythe and bends down, holding out a hand. “There ya go, mate, let's get you back on your feet.”

Gem blinks. “What?”

Pearl tilts her head in confusion. “I'm helping you up. Did you hit your head?”

Gem frowns. “No, I just– why aren't you killing me?” She takes Pearl’s hand anyway.

Pearl raises an eyebrow, pulling Gem to her feet. “Would you have killed me if I lost?” She grins when Gem shakes her head. “Thought so.”

Mumbo peeks out from the tree he hid behind, giving Pearl a little wave. “You don't want to kidnap me anymore?”

Gem groans, grabbing her bloodied sword and wiping it on the grass before sheathing it. “I miscalculated. Thought you were alone and Pearl was the big dog I saw wandering around camp. Turns out, I was wrong.”

Pearl laughs. “Tilly! No, no, she's my lovely puppy.”

“Wolf,” Mumbo corrects quietly, “she's a wolf, Pearl.” 

Pearl shrugs, then looks over at Gem. “Well, if you’re gonna stick around, we have some soup I can heat up? You can tell us all about why you’re here, and maybe I’ll be able to give ya somethin’ for your time.”

Gem lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. Sure. Sure, why not. This day couldn’t get any more crazy, I think.”

Mumbo, who had slowly been inching closer to the two while they were talking, is quick to grab Pearl when she tries to walk and stumbles. “Pearl! Wait, hold on, I’ll help you over, but you have got to sit down after that. I’ll heat up the soup and get you some bandages.” 

“Alright, alright…” Pearl slings an arm over Mumbo’s shoulders, and gestures for Gem to follow them. “Oof, that took a lot out of me, actually.” She glances back at Gem. “You’re good. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Gem snorts, following them across the camp. “I could ask you the same question. You’re insane.” 

Mumbo helps Pearl sit down on the bench. Gem hesitates, then takes the seat across from Pearl, watching as Mumbo grabs a large covered container of soup. “Honestly,” he says, “Pearl’s one of the strongest people I know. Everyone here is, but Pearl and Impulse–” he laughs, putting the container on what looks to be a type of redstone warming gadget– “they’re incredible.” 

Pearl giggles. “Aww, Mumbo! You’re too kind, mate.” She closes her eyes and lets out a breath. “You mind gettin’ those bandages? I’m startin’ to feel a little hurt here.”

Gem grimaces. “My bad! You got me good in a few places too, though.”

Pearl nods, giving Gem a bright smile. “Dang right I did! Mumbo, can you get some extra bandages for our new friend here?”

Mumbo nods, bending down to open a different wooden container and pulling out some bandages and a dry towel. “Her name’s Gem, by the way. Introduced herself to me before chasing me down.” 

“That’s nice,” Pearl quips, “good to let your victims know who they have the pleasure of bein’ killed by, at the very least.”

Gem blushes. “I wasn’t going to kill him! Honestly! I was just going to bring him back to King Ren, and even then he was probably just gonna be put in jail or something!”

Mumbo sits next to Pearl and begins to dab at the cuts with the towel. “I don’t really want to go to jail?” He hands a roll of bandages and a towel to Gem, who begins to take care of her own wounds.

“We’d break you out,” Pearl assures him, then turns to look at Gem. “Right. This bounty, tell me about it? You said King Ren put it out?”

Gem glances at Mumbo. “Honestly, I think it’d be better hearing it from his side, first. I wasn’t there for the whole reason the bounty was placed.”

Mumbo looks up from where he was wrapping Pearl’s wounds. “Oh! Well, uh, you see. So, I guess, I accidentally blew up one of his labs? I was making something, can’t really remember what it was, and well. Kaboom! Blew it all to smithereens, unfortunately. And because I wasn’t really supposed to be there, they didn’t really have a lot of sympathy for me.” He grabs Pearl’s hand and pulls her other arm up so he can tend to the wounds on it. “So! I ran!”

“Are our things at risk of blowing up, then?” Pearl asks, looking pointedly at the redstone machine that was warming up the soup. Her wings flutter slightly. 

Mumbo shrugs. “Probably not. I mean, I’m much more careful now. I don’t use things until I’m like… 99% sure they won’t blow up.”

Gem raises an eyebrow. “That’s a whole 1% of uncertainty.”

Pearl laughs, pulling her arm back once Mumbo finishes bandaging up her cuts. “Better than 2%! I’ll take it.” 

Mumbo hands Pearl the roll of bandages and stands up to check on the soup. It must be done, because he carefully takes the container off the heating gadget and grabs some bowls and spoons from yet another wooden container. After rifling through the container for another minute, he pulls out a ladle with a triumphant sound and stands back up. “Soup’s ready!”

Once the soup is ladled into every bowl and placed on the table, Mumbo sits back down. “You alright, Pearl?” he murmurs, to which Pearl nods. 

“Just a lil dizzy,” she responds, “but that’s– probably fine. I should get back to bed soon, probably.”

“Eat your soup first, at least.” Mumbo looks up at Gem. “And, well, I guess we should hear your side of this whole thing, huh?”

Gem sighs, taking a sip of her soup before leaning back. “Well, I was looking for another job and yours came up. I figured it’d be pretty easy to grab you and bring you back to the King, and then I’d be set for the next couple months with the reward.” She laughs softly. “To be honest, I didn’t even think I was going to have to fight.”

Mumbo makes a sad noise. “I would’ve fought back!” he protests, “you just startled me!”

“Oh, I’m sure you would’ve!” Gem agrees. “You just would’ve lost.”

Pearl chuckles. “Be nice to Mumbo! He’s a very skilled tactician.” She has some more soup before leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table. “What are your plans now?”

Gem shrugs. “I wasn’t hired for this job, so it doesn’t really matter if I complete it or not. The money would’ve been nice, but my reputation won’t take a blow because of this.” She thinks for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Honestly, I might just spend a while up around here to see if any of the nearby villages have jobs for me, if anything. Or I might head to the city to look for more bounties.” She eats some more soup. It’s very good, made with potatoes and bacon and cheese, and it’s slightly spicy nature has her feeling warm despite the cold autumn weather.

 “Oh! Speaking of, you’re going to want to keep an eye on this guy–” She gestures at Mumbo– “for a bit, or speak to King Ren about his bounty. Otherwise, some other hunter who isn’t as nice as me might pick up his bounty.” 

Mumbo’s eyes widen. “Well. I don’t really want that to happen!”

Pearl nods. “Yeah, that makes sense… I’ll speak with the others when they get back and we’ll see about making a trip there. If that’s okay with you?” She directs the question to Mumbo, who holds up his hands and shakes his head.

“I dunno! Do whatever you think is best, mate. It would be nice to get the bounty off my head so we don’t have to worry about people coming to camp.” Mumbo looks a little downtrodden as he speaks, crossing his arms and looking away. “I mean, look at what happened. You’re hurt, and Grian’s probably going to rip my arm off for it!”

Gem inhales sharply. “I might want to head out then, if you have a friend who’s gonna react like that…”

Pearl laughs. “No, Mumbo’s joking– Grian can’t and won’t do that, not to Mumbo. And even if he wanted to do that to someone, I still don’t think he could.” She finishes her soup and leans against Mumbo. “It might be good for you to skedaddle before everyone gets back, though. We can introduce you at another time, when you haven’t just injured me while I’m ill and supposed to be resting.”

Mumbo chuckles nervously, letting Pearl lean against him. “Yeahhh… I can’t imagine that’ll go down too well with the others. Even if you are friendly now.”

Gem takes the last bite of her soup, and sets her spoon in the bowl. “I can’t imagine it would, I really can’t. Thank you for the soup and bandages, but–”

Before she’s able to finish speaking, Pearl jumps up from the table. “Wait! Hold on, I have something for you.” She takes a few steps away, then turns back and grabs Mumbo’s hand. “Sorry, taking this guy with me– still don’t really trust you. Stay right there!”

Gem waves her hand, slightly confused. “That’s fair! I’ll be here.” 

They return after a few minutes, with Pearl holding a few things in her arms. “Right! Here’s a pouch of some gold and iron coins, to cover at least a little of the bounty. And this–” She sets down a piece of parchment on the table– “this is moth mail. It’s a special thing I made a while back. Just write a letter, tap the little sigil drawn on the top corner, and it’ll get to me! You can use that to contact me if you need, or if you’re in the area.”

Gem blinks. “Wow! Oh, gosh, thank you? I gotta know, though, how come you’re being so nice to me? I was going to turn Mumbo over to the King.”

Pearl shrugs. “I mean, you’ve been chill after that, so why hold grudges? Gotta make friends where ya can.” She straightens back up. “Really! Feel free to come back any time, as long as you let me know first. If you don’t, I might assume you’ve come to collect some other bounty we don’t know about and fight you again.”

Gem laughs as she stands up, taking the pouch of coins and parchment paper. “Wouldn’t want that to happen, for sure!” She takes a step back. “Well, thank you both for the kindness… and entertainment, I suppose. This morning was certainly an interesting one.”

Mumbo smiles nervously. “Yeah, I agree. It was nice, uh, meeting you? And not getting kidnapped by you? And not being put in jail. Yeah.”

Gem only laughs louder at that. “Yeah, I’m glad I could contribute to things you’re grateful for.” She takes a breath, looking between Mumbo and Pearl. “Well. I’ll be heading out, then. Thanks for the coin and the paper.”

Pearl leans against Mumbo, who is doing his best to steady her. “No worries, mate! Have fun with… whatever you’re going to do!”

As Gem starts walking back toward the forest, she just barely hears Pearl mumble, “I need to pass out right now,” to Mumbo. 

Gem pays the stable manager for taking care of her horse with some of the money Pearl gave her. Honestly, she’s still a little shocked over how the whole ordeal went down, but hey; at least she still got paid. 

“And I got some new friends out of it, too,” she tells her horse as she rides off into the forest. “So that’s a plus!” 

She isn’t quite sure what she’s going to tell the bartender when she inevitably returns, but she’ll figure something out. For now, she’s good to look for her next bounty– wherever it might be.

[yurozo]

uxoriousness/meritoriousness

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: following a recent outing to spain, leon indulges himself in the chaos of the theatre as a temporary reprieve. what he doesn't expect is to find you, a duke's daughter which captures his attention.

tags: fluff, romance, fem!reader, no use of y/n, early modern century britain, knight!leon (?), terrible flirting on leon's behalf.

a/n: it's 18th century britain leon babey! i attempted at making it as accurate as possible, but i did push flexibility in prose and conventions. i'm thinking of making this about five parts, so please let me know if you want to see more! <3 side note: uxuriousness is an 18th century term to be excessively fond of your wife, and maritiousness is a less common word to be excessively fond of your husband. ;)

part 1, part 2, next parts coming soon!

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Leon Kennedy, from the period of his last excursion to Spain, was admitted a frequent visitor to the theatre. Not particularly for the novelty of it; in truth he had no interest in watching the actors sing about their prose, but instead for the solitary comfort the booth often provided. To lounge in a padded chair and lose oneself to the idle chatter of the audience below bestowed a barrier that subsided his reserves, his tiring thoughts of blood staining his sword and the cracking of ribs as his weapon sinks between them. 

Certainly not for another more pervasive reason. Most definitely not the Lady sitting in the booth across the orchestra, watching the play with rapt interest. 

You had become a recent obsession of his, watching every slight change in expression that you wore so freely. Distaste at every nobleman vying for your affections, wistfulness at the chaste kiss between two actors, dejection when the curtains came to a full close. A painful curiosity ignited at your countenance and he could hardly withdraw his eyes from your person until the performance had concluded. Several weeks had passed in this kind of intercourse, content with being an unacknowledged admirer and not letting himself be overcome with more powerful considerations. 

That was until he spotted another man in your booth, desperately pleading with your hand in his rigid grip, and that same revulsion in your face, which propelled him upwards. He forbore any immediate inclination to withdraw his sword and allow him the same fate he willingly gave to his enemies for even daring to grab you without permission. 

His manners were very much admired in his circle, with many honoured with such an attention as his. It is for this reason that he is sure no true gentleman should ever dare force himself upon a woman, and especially not someone with a countenance more touchingly beautiful than he had ever dared to imagine before. 

In descending the last steps of your booth, however, your foot faltered and while Leon hastened to assist you, the man’s grip could no longer sufficiently engage to confine. While you were not materially hurt in your fall, it was reason enough to refuse any gracious acknowledgement from the other man. 

“My lord,” Leon derided, standing in the gap between the two. “I believe your presence is wanted elsewhere.”

The man remonstrated, and represented the serious danger that threatened from so rash a proceeding. “My lady,” said he in a solemn voice, “Sir.”

The man quickly departed, as the waning patience of Leon could clearly not have endured the repeated attack on another persons honour. But these cogitations were but of short continuance; they vanished with the appearance of your hand, waiting for his to assist you. He does so, pulling you gently to him, and greeted you with a softness oft unfamiliar to him. 

“My lady,” Leon said, folded in a deep bow; “I am sorry, exceedingly sorry, that you may have been given uneasiness.”

He wanted so desperately to bring your hand upwards, to brush his lips against the soft unscarred skin of your knuckles. But he is noble in heart, and too afraid to break convention in a manner of all people, so he acquiesced himself to squeeze it once instead. The accomplished mind of his was more likely to succeed in silent attentions than by a formal declaration of his sentiment. 

“Any such sentiment was easily quelled,” you responded, the gentle remonstrances in his favour becoming more pleasing and more convincing. “Thank you, Sir, I felt nothing but surprise at your sudden appearance.”

“Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you,” said he, hesitating ever so slightly in his forwardness. “My lady.”

A hint of flush coloured your mottled cheeks that retrimmed the flame building with an ardent fire. “Allow me to thank you, Sir,” you said, retracting your hand from his. “If you are not diverted, to join me.”

The present confliction of passion seemed endless; he had already formed an inkling of affection for someone so far out of his station to even consider a proper courtship, and yet the very idea of never feeling that warmth in his palm again ached fiercely. Perhaps it was simply due to the long stretches of time in which he received none at all, but the crime of engaging in a past attachment was severer and more painful than he had imagined. Your hand was gentle in a manner that he is not, uncalloused where his are weathered from a swords grip.

“I shall,” he replied, allowing for you to seat yourself first before he followed, a timid eagerness in his step. 

Leon seized the opportunity thus offered, attempting to converse with you, while he was yet considering what he could say, that might interest and withdraw you from this severe reserve. From the style of your dress, he imagined that you were a person of honourable, yet modest personality, who exhibited an air of comfort in the midst of his usual experience of strict upper-class nobility. 

It was something about you, he decided, that circumstance had punished him gravely with your presence. He could not remember a true life without it, for all manner of previous happiness seemed finite in comparison. In fine, you were both infinitely charmed with each other, although you lacked the nerve to voice such affections. 

“Are you engaged, my Lady?” he said, in a tone much too hurried for the quiet air of the booth. His brow pinched at the suddenness of the intrusion, at the lack of care in his tone that may have painted him impatient, or at worst, rapacious. 

“I fear not,” you laughed, and what a wondrous sound it is. Had you been able to encounter his eyes, you may have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight lightened them. Feeling all the more common awkwardness and anxiety of the situation, now forced yourself to speak. “Are your affections taken by another?”

“No, my Lady,” said he, “present company excluded.”

You coloured and laughed at his reply, and any guilt of his previous misstep is comforted by the brightness of your gaze, cast upon him of all people. Should the divine have asked him now to give all of him to you, he would have gladly obliged in that very moment, forfeiting all mortal possession and any semblance of self in your honour. 

“Are you enjoying the play thus far?” you started, still flushed of the affectionate gallantry that he bestows upon you.

“I do not recollect that I am.”

“You do not enjoy romance?” 

“I certainly have not the passion which some people possess,” said Leon, “but I am not steadfast in my conviction.”

You turned to him then, proceeding all the particulars of the romantic genre, and would shortly have recited some very plentiful dictation had Leon not interrupted you once more. 

“I have never met anyone of such true enjoyment,” he observed, cutting your speech not out of malice, but of something else entirely. Curiosity, or even sensibility, for he had received all your intelligence with the forbearance of civility. 

“Exceedingly so,” you answered, “but I honour your sentiment.”

“My sentiment has changed,” he admitted so fondly, that he feared every fault of his would come to light, “in the presence of such knowledgable company.”

When Leon looked upon you again, surreptitiously enough that you do not notice the length of which he watches you, you watch the two actors embrace each other with welled eyes. Even if Leon never considered himself a poet, surely he could manage a soliloquy that encapsulated the joy in basking at your presence much better than any writer. What fascinating sensibility that you wielded so easily, the same way he holds his weapon, freely and without uncertainty. 

The curtains drew shut only moments later, uproarious cheering filling the theatre chambers so any further conversation is halted in its vibrance. You clapped politely beside him, assuming an air of graceful satisfaction, and he clapped in turn, if only to momentarily revel in this moment. Never had he felt so beguiled by a story, attention so pulled by the audience as he did now, supposing that memorizing every detail would supply further dialogue to engage your consideration. 

While the audience continued their remarks on the performance, mixed with them many instructions of execution and taste, Leon stands from his seat. Despite the initial surety of his action, a hint of trepidation in his expression gave way to his inability to end a happiness so supreme as to efface all impressions of the past. 

“It has been a very agreeable day,” you said to Leon, allowing your hand to be lightly grasped in his. “Never has a play entranced me so. I hope we may often meet again.”

“As do I,” said he, and gave you a final bow, just so you could not see the torment in his expression. Would you let me permit you home, is what he did not say. 

“Goodbye, Sir-” 

“Leon, my Lady.”

“Goodbye, Sir Leon.” The traces of an unbidden smile once again rises, for now you had a means in which to contact him further, to call upon him the next time you waited his presence.

“I am your humble servant,” said he, trembling with anxiety and sinking with despondency, remained for a moment to gaze upon you, unable to take leave yet irresolute what to say that might prolong the moment occurring. 

They took leave of each other; you back to the obligations of the family which expects your maintenance, and he to the tavern to drown the remembrance of his disappointment.

[futurepastme]

I'm all for the "hates killing animals" Merlin (and that can still be true), but a conversation at work today made me realize that Merlin is a peasant and I don't remember cannon enough but if he's not also a farmer (even if a small one) he's definitely had to kill and prepare animals to eat before, either just for himself and his mom or to help people around in Ealdor.

Now, consider Arthur and the rest of the knights of Camelot. Before Arthur started to knight common men, they were all nobles. They were taught how to hunt, of course, but they never really needed to prepare the game they'd caught before, they all had servants and cooks to do that. They had learned how to hunt for sport and that was it.

All that to present the concept that: Before Merlin came to Camelot, Arthur and the knights (reminder: not our knights, the noble ones that Uther approved of and were already there before cannon started) had to survive quests mostly with the rations they took with them, only turning to hunting as a last resort because they all suck at preparing their catch.

They'll either skin them wrong, losing a lot of meat in the process or will simply be bad at cooking it, most times burning it a little. And the flavour, of course, sucks.

Arthur, I think, would be the only one to be half decent at that because I like to believe Uther would like to have him ready for any outcome, but he was the prince and nobody would dare to ask him to cook for them and we're talking about a before-Merlin Arthur, so I don't believe he would volunteer because at this point he's a prat.

Then comes Merlin, the idiot that was recently awarded the position as Arthur's servant. And the knights all know that Merlin is useless because Arthur's been complaining about him since day one.

Now the bumbling fool is following them to some mission somewhere and they have no hopes that he'll be of any use at all. That won't stop them to order Merlin around like the inferior peasant that he is, though.

But then.

Then they get delayed and have to hunt for food.

And of course Merlin is in charge of cooking it, because now that they have a servant there, there's no way any of those nobles will get their hands dirty with such an inferior task such as cooking.

They catch an animal (any animal, honestly. I don't care, from a mouse to a bear, it's up to you) and promptly shove it towards Merlin with no hopes of a good meal, but with the assurance that at least this time it would be bad because of a servant and they all would be allowed to complain about it with no reservations.

Then Merlin sits there by the fire, with a barely sharp enough knife and whatever animal they had caught, and seamlessly and smoothly skins the thing.

It takes him no time at all and there are no chunks of meat missing. Clumsy, idiot and useless Merlin had perfectly skinned the creature in a matter of seconds, like it was the easiest thing in the world, and had not damaged neither the meat nor the pelt.

They all kind of stop what they are doing to watch Merlin as he starts to cook the perfectly skinned meat. They stare as the boy seems to put green plants on it and some type of powders he had in his satchel, befuddled and confused.

And when they finally get to eat it, by the gods, if it isn't the best thing they have ever eaten outside of Camelot.

Slowly, the rumors of Merlin's skills start to spread amongst the knights and soon enough all of them are dying to try it.

In a matter of weeks all knights of Camelot agree that if you happened to end up in some type of quest with the prince, you're the luckiest bastard to ever live, not because of the honour to fight along the prince, but for the chance to eat a meal prepared by Merlin.

By the sixth month of Merlin tagging along with Arthur, the rations they bring to quests and such become the last resort food or maybe just side dishes, because if Merlin is at the party then hunting is mandatory, for every knight of Camelot loves Merlin's food. (Arthur is chef Merlin's number one fan, btw)

[curse-d-owl]

The common opinion that Edelgard takes the fastest path to reforming Fodlan while Dimitri goes at a snails pace cause he's risk averse. That is an incorrect statement that's born out of bias and willful ignorance.

The exact opposite is true. Before he was even crowned as the next king he immediately risked civil wars for the sake of Duscur and exposing the crimes of Rufus even when Gilbert protested against that.

In the 2 years he was king he kicked Kleiman out of Duscur, helped the natives ( who previously had no aid in any form ) reclaim their home and fought hard to mend the relationship between Duscur and Faerghus.

He also allowed social mobility to be in Faerghus by allowing commoners to achieve the ranks of knights and nobles should they have the skill for these positions.

And lastly he wants to move away from the dependance on crests and allow Faerghus to be governed by merit.

And none of this gets hindered by Rhea and infact she supports Dimitri in his efforts. In the 2 years she was still in control of garreg mach she has not hindered Dimitri.

They both right the wrongs of Fodlan by getting rid of nationalism, nepotism, forced obligations for those that don't want to and a crest based society. They achieve all but one of Edelgard's goals which is conquering Fodlan for herself and Adrestia.

Meanwhile Edelgard in the 2 years she's been an emperor has done absolutely nothing to mend the relationship between Brigid and Adrestia nor undo the imperialism that Brigid suffers from. The most she did was promise that she'll put an end of the vassalage after Petra officially becomes queen. They're the ones scared of righting their wrongs cause they're afraid of risks. And the only problem that Fodland faces is Edelgard's unjustified war and desire for conquest.

And quite frankly it's bizarre that the author's even put this decision in when this is the same story that has Leicester immediately became bossom buddies with Almyra cause their renowned generals had a good drink.

One last thing i want to talk about is the extreme differences between the oppression of Duscur and Brigid.

Brigid was forced into vassalage and had their crown princess kidnapped into enemy territory as a hostage. Which is extremely horrifying do not get me wrong.

Duscur on the other hand suffered from an unjust genocide, forced expulsion from their homeland, got their land colonized and received no aid from anyone.

Dimitri has more things to set right than Edelgard and he did all of it while Edelgard hardly did anything for Brigid.

[sugarrrvenomm]

is somebody gonna match my freak? // obi-wan x reader

sorry i couldn't help it with the title LMAO

word count: 3k

summary: this is disgusting <3

PS if u want me to make a taglist and would like to be on it leave a reply !!

In the beginning, Obi-Wan felt guilty; depraved. He was a Jedi Knight, had been a Jedi Knight for many years—while you still wore a braid in your hair. It wasn’t necessarily written anywhere that having sexual relations with Padawans was against the rules, but if he was being honest with himself, he knows that’s because it’s the kind of expectation that is so obvious no one thought it even needed to put in writing. Still, the fact that it wasn’t explicitly forbidden didn’t do much to quell his shame.

And in the end, his shame didn’t do much—or anything at all, really—to stop him from fucking you. 

In his defense, you made the first move. Drunk off the single glass of wine your Master had allowed you during the Temple’s Life Day celebrations. Anakin had slunk off to Force knows where, and Obi-Wan was content with standing at the edge of the grand banquet hall, making sure no one got too reckless, taking another drink every time a server-droid buzzed passed him, and watching you. 

You’d greeted him earlier, twirling in your little white dress that certainly wasn’t Jedi issued. It was becoming more and more common for younger Jedi to scrap together fabric into their own personalized garments—apparently it didn’t bother the Council enough to do anything about it. And it certainly didn’t bother Obi-Wan, especially when the fabric was so thin he could tell very easily you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“What do you think?” You’d asked, smiling with teeth as white as the dress. 

Obi-Wan had cleared his throat, biting back the first few entirely inappropriate responses that came to him, before answering, “You’re very creative.”

The way you deflated slightly, clearly expecting a little more, bothered him more than it should have, so he smiled as genuinely as he could, and added, “Go enjoy the party, little one.” And then you blushed, like you always did when he called you that. Without another word, you had turned on your heel and did exactly as he said. He’d be lying if he said the obedience wasn’t a turn on. 

All night he watched you, and when you finally started to drift toward the exit, he made sure to be there so he could ask, “Would you like me to walk you back?”

The yes he got in response wasn’t very surprising. The way you had kissed him at the door of your quarters was, though. Obi-Wan couldn’t even enjoy it—instinctively pulling back and looking around to see if anyone had witnessed it. No one had, but you were grabbing at his tunics, trying to get his attention, and he’d pushed you inside of your rooms with the intention fo simply getting the two of you away from any prying eyes that may come. 

And once the door slid shut behind the both of you, and you were truly alone—he couldn’t help himself. Obi-Wan leant down and pressed your lips together, groaning low in his chest, walking you back until you were against the door, and slid his tongue into your mouth so you could taste him. You made such sweet, little noises—some of surprise, like you’d never done this before, and that made him roll his hips, desperate to get any kind of friction on his thick, swelling cock. 

When he’d done that, you’d pulled back, blinking up at him all doe-eyed with your lips pink and swollen. “I’m a virgin,” you said, in one quiet breath. 

Obi-Wan was far from a virgin, but he certainly felt like one for a moment, the words arousing him so much he feared he might finish in his pants right then and there. 

“That’s alright,” he managed to tell you, cupping your pretty face, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Nothing has to happen.” As much as I’d like it to, he left out. 

You’d sent him away with another kiss, and he wondered if when the morning came, you’d regret it. He never got a direct answer for that—you carried on almost entirely as if it had never happened when the two of you were around each other. If it wasn’t for Obi-Wan’s frequent replaying of the memory while he stroked his cock at night, he might have thought he imagined it.

Then, you were assigned a mission together. 

Obi-Wan knew Anakin found you tolerable at least, so he only gave him a warning to be on his best behavior—for most of the mission, the two of you only spoke when necessary, while Obi-Wan and your Master were more comfortable with each other. Or, used to be. Obi-Wan had trouble looking the other Jedi in the eye after kissing you. When the mission was completed, the four of you boarded the ship once more, Anakin in the cockpit navigating you away form the planet, while the rest settled in. 

Even while wrapped up in a conversation with your Master, Obi-Wan’s focus was on you. The other Jedi stood in front of Obi-Wan, so he couldn’t see what you were doing behind him, but Obi-Wan could. Obi-Wan could see the way you cleaned your lightsaber hilt, could see the way you removed the emergency medical supplies and rations from your belt and put them back in their proper place. 

Obi-Wan could see you bend over to take your boots off, and the way your panties clung to your little cunt. 

A Jedi in a skirt wasn’t a completely foreign sight, though most chose to wear leggings underneath. Obi-Wan had assumed you’d skipped them due to the heat of the planet, but had also assumed it was at least the kind of skirt with little shorts sewn in underneath. For practicality’s sake. He’d assumed wrong, of course. You had done this on purpose. There was no denying it when you turned your head to look at him, still bent over, and bit your lip.

As soon as your Master moved a muscle, you were up again, straightening yourself and bowing respectfully as he walked away to another area of the ship. When he was gone, you resumed your position, hands around your ankles. “I’m ready for something to happen now, Master Kenobi,” you said. 

Possessed, Obi-Wan took long strides to reach you as quickly as possible, grabbing your hips, thumbing your skirt up to see more of you. “I thought you were a virgin,” he breathed out, eyes glued to the place where your underwear hugged your slit, outlining the folds of your pussy. 

“I am,” you pouted, turning to look at him.

Obi-Wan ran a thumb over your center, his cock twitching. “Then how are you so fucking filthy?”

“Because of you.”

In response, Obi-Wan cursed, and cupped your pussy with a big hand. “Is that so?”

“Yes, yes!” You whined, and he let you rock yourself back, trying to make him rub you. “I always think of you when I—when I—“ you started, but you couldn’t seem to finish. 

“When you touch yourself?” Obi-Wan asked, taking his hand away as you nodded eagerly. He gripped your hips again, and pushed his own forward, after lifting his tunics out of the way so the bulge of his hard cock in his trousers could press snug and hot against your needy, covered cunt. “Me too, little one. Every time I touch my cock I’m thinking of you; of your darling face and this tight fucking virgin pussy,” he gritted out, humping against you with the last words, making you tip forward and claw at the wall in front of you. 

“Master Kenobi,” you mewled. “Please, touch me.”

Obi-Wan wanted to. He desperately wanted to. He wanted to pull down your underwear and have you right here, pop your cherry and make you his. But he couldn’t.

“I can’t fuck you, little one,” he breathed out.

You made a bratty, unhappy noise. “Why not?” 

“You’ll scream,” he bent over and whispered in your ear. 

♡♡♡♡♡

Eventually, Obi-Wan does take your virginity, and lets you scream all you’d like. Laid back in his bed, clawing at his hair while he rubs the drippy, pink head of his cock over your center, tapping your clit and barely pushing into your cunt. 

“Do you think it’ll even fit?” He asks. It’s not just dirty talk—he really doesn’t know for sure. You’re so tiny, and untouched, and his cock is quite big. Your eyes had gone wide when he first took it out, and he’d sat you on his lap and let you play with it until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Now, he sinks the tip of it into your pussy, and even as sloppy wet as you are, he wonders. 

“It will, it will,” you chant, trying to push down on it. Adorable.

He rubs a thumb over your clit to make you settle, then coos at you, “It’s alright if it doesn’t—little girls have tight, little pussies. You’ll just need practice, darling.” The words just pour out of him, so obscene he shocks himself a bit. It seems that all his guilt has turned into filth, and the very things he used to be ashamed of are now the very things he finds the most arousing. The braid in your hair, your untouched body, your innocence. 

Still, he indulges you, and as it would turn out, you were right. It does fit. It’s so tight that Obi-Wan feels as if his dick might break off, but that only makes him more determined to open your pussy up for him. As you cry and whine and chant his name, he fucks you into the mattress, pounding away at your cunt and groaning at the sounds the two of you make together; obnoxiously wet. 

What makes him come is the realization that you haven’t even inquired about a condom, not even once. Obi-Wan had a vasectomy years ago, but you certainly don’t know that. For all you know, he’s about to knock you up. In his mind, he sees you, sat on his lap with your back to his chest, letting him bounce you up and down on his cock, your sweet belly swollen with his baby. His cock pushes out another weak spurt when he imagines your Master walking in on it. 

With his cock softening inside of you, he rubs your clit and laves his tongue over your nipples. “Sweet girl, come all over me. I want to feel my little one come,” he orders. And you do; so obedient.

♡♡♡♡♡

Obi-Wan can’t stop taking firsts from you after that, especially with how you want it. Messaging him whenever you’re away from each other about how you can’t live without his cock and his tongue and his hands. Every moment your Master is away, you’re at his door, and Obi-Wan thanks the Force that Anakin’s teenage mood swings have led him to making himself scarce in their free time—it means Obi-Wan gets to have you however he’d like.

He gets you bouncing on his cock, just like he imagined, minus the pregnancy. His hands tucked under your knees, spreading you and opening you up so he can fuck you up and down on his fat cock until you squirt all over the mirror he’s set the two of you in front of. 

“Clean it up,” he tells you, pulling you off his cock and setting you on the floor. 

Without hesitation, you crawl over, and he’s torn between where he wants to look—your glistening pussy, pink and puffy from use, or your tongue, licking along the dirty mirror, unashamed. You do it so easily that he gets an idea, getting on the floor himself and stuffing himself back inside of you aggressively, fucking into you messily, watching the way your ass ripples until he’s about to come—then he quickly pulls out, stands, and tugs at his cock until his milky spend is dripping down the mirror. 

He grabs you by the hair and guides you to it, “Mm,” he hums, pleased at the way you moan and eagerly lick it up and swallow it all down. “Little come slut.” His cock is stirring to life again already, and he rubs it against your cheek, tapping your swollen lips with it. “Next time, I’ll fill you up and you can be my come dump, too.”

♡♡♡♡♡

When forced into situations with your Master, Obi-Wan really loathes how you obey the other Jedi so readily. He knows you should, and he knows he’s being unreasonable. It doesn’t stop him from ordering you to come to his quarters before your Master awakes, so he can swirl his tongue over the pretty little rim of the only hole he hasn’t touched yet. He moans against your skin, shoving his tongue inside of you and drooling all over his beard, lost in it until your com goes off, signaling that your Master’s awake. 

Obi-Wan can barely stand it—sending you away without coming, your precious cunt so soaked it’s surely going to show even through your leggings. 

It’s a consolation when he visits the training salles later and knows you’re going through all your katas with a plug in your ass, put there by him. Sparring with your Master while your entrance clenches around it and your pussy drools helplessly all the while. 

On the days there’s no time for such things, he strokes his cock while you’re on your way over. The only thing you do when you arrive is tug your panties down, and Obi-Wan comes all over the inside of them. He pulls them up your legs, smiling at the way they immediately become transparent and stick to you. 

“Does it feel yucky?” He asks.

You rub your thighs together and nod. “I like it, though.”

Pride swells in Obi-Wan’s chest and he kisses your forehead, while one hand reaches back under your skirt to massage your cunt, rubbing his seed all over your folds and the swollen button of your tiny clit. “Good girl. You keep that nice and warm for me all day, okay?”

You rock into his touch, and he sends you off with a smack to your ass. All day, he imagines you humping your seat during your lessons.

♡♡♡♡♡

Obi-Wan eats your pussy from the back, because you make him nasty like that. He bends you over a table in a dark corner of the archives and kneels behind you, shoving his face between your legs and trying to see if he can make you squirt in public.

He can. He sucks greedily at your clit and sends you an image through the Force of him doing this right in the middle of one of the Temple’s grand hallways, and you come so hard he has to take off his robe and sop up your mess from the table and the floor. 

Perhaps it’s a bit hypocritical, spanking you for such a stunt when you get back to his quarters, because really, it’s his own fault—but he does it anyway. 

“Naughty, naughty girl. You’re so filthy I’m beginning to think you’d let anyone do that to you. Is that true, little one? When I’m not around, do you flash your pussy to other Jedi? Is your little cunt so insatiable that you’d hump the boot of anyone that offered?” Obi-Wan knows none of these things are true; he knows as well as you do that you belong to him, but you blush so pretty and your cunt drips so much when he talks like this, so he always does. 

When your ass is red and you begin to cry, he pulls you into his lap and lets you rock against his thigh until you’ve calmed down. You suck on his tongue like it’s candy and rub your tits against his hairy chest.

Eventually, you pull back and pinch your own nipples, before pushing your breasts together and looking at him from under your eyelashes. “Do you think you could fuck me here?”

Obi-Wan throws you on the bed so fiercely he fears for a moment that he hurt you, but then you’re moaning and playing with your tits again, sticking your tongue out like a whore to beckon him closer. Rather than lube his cock up, he shoves it in your mouth and lets you wet it for him. You’ve gotten so good at this, you barely gag, even when your nose is buried in the auburn thatch of hair above his cock. 

When he fucks your tits, it’s more about the fact that you’ve asked him to do it, rather than the physical sensation of it. Sweet Padawan, little one, hugging her breasts around the cock of a man twice her age while she goes crosseyed and cockdumb. 

Obi-Wan’s mouth gets away from him, but he knows you love it. “Imagine if your Master could see you right now—he wouldn’t believe his little girl likes to suck my cock and empty my balls over her tits.”

He does just that, and then asks you to stick your tongue out again so he can take a holo of you, come on your tits and eyes glazed over. 

♡♡♡♡♡

“Think your cute little pussy can handle daddy’s big fat cock?”

He doesn’t know which one of you started the daddy thing, but it drives the both of you crazy. The fantasies where you just plain call him dad, he keeps to himself. 

You’re on all fours on his bed, and you reach between your legs to spread your cunt for him. 

“I can take anything you give me, daddy,” you say sweetly, and Obi-Wan knows it’s true. 

[afyrian]

☆ the knight's heart

kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 734 | prompts: forbidden romance + royalty au

    "i need you to do something for me," you stand beside your dedicated knight, one assigned to you as soon as you could go out on your own.

  your voice comes out as a whisper, hands clamoring against his thick metal armor. his head turns to look at you, eyes showing through the slit in his helmet. you've always loved when you could see his eyes. the amber color that shines so brightly inside despite how dark it must be in there, the only time he's allowed to take it off being inside the castle.

  "pretend i'm your lover, for a moment," you look back down the alleys of shops and people in the town square, cloak disguising how distinguished your dress is, "some of the other knights are looking for me and i'd rather not face my father right now."

  sir kuroo's head leaches back, covered hands reaching out to hold under your elbows. his armor rattles as his head shakes beneath his plated helmet. "your royal highness, i find that proposal to be highly inappropriate. if we're found, i could be punished, you- well your father would be incredibly upset that you're courting a commoner," kuroo purses his lips, trying to please you as best as possible.

  "sir kuroo, i beg of you. he's hounding me to meet another royal and i cannot take it. please, it'll be but a moment," you clasp your hands together, looking back to see more knights searching around the town center.

  kuroo looks at them too, trying to decide if a moment of pleasure for you could also mean a world of hurt for the both of them. biting his lip, he pulls off his helmet, holding it off to the side. his hair is matted down some, his usual spiky hair pushed down with sweat and his helmet. "don't let me regret this, darling," he whispers, nearly taken aback as your hands reach for his cheeks.

  "what? how else would one court someone? did you believe we would be simply talking to distract them?"

  "my apologies, your royal highness. i simply didn't believe we'd be doing such a thing with your royal status," your knight looks away, face visibly getting redder, something you always saw when seeing other royalty attempt to court you. 

  you smile, looking away to hide the happiness that overtakes you. when your head turns, you see the knights just a few stalls from you, looking down every alleyway. turning back to kuroo, you apologize quickly, bringing your hands back up to his face and pulling him towards you. his lips press against yours, the crackly feel of his dry lips battles the softness of your skin. 

  he tastes like a stew that the cooks make for all of the knights, something you've indulged in one or two times with kuroo. his breath his hot, lips breaking from yours only to push back in with a heavier intensity. his hands reach for your waist. the metal of his gloves keeping the two of you from truly becoming one in this moment. however, it doesn't stop you from running your fingers through his hair. 

  it feels prickly in spots, the sweat having brought them to a point. you stand there for a moment, indulging in something that you'll never truly be able to have. especially when he has such a warmth to him that none of your suitors have ever had. they never have those amber eyes that bring you in every morning and every evening. 

  eventually, after what felt like forever, you finally pull your lips from his. however, you can't help but run your thumb over his lips, staring into his eyes that look to you with an intensity no one could battle. “uh- thank you, sir kuroo,” you step back, looking around before bowing your head out of respect. 

  kuroo smiles, “i believe i should be the one bowing to you, your royal highness. after all, courting you has been a joy.” 

  “couldn’t have said it better myself, sir kuroo. now, let’s go sneak off and see if we can find lunch to buy. unless you think the cooks are done with the knight’s lunch…” you grab his helmet for you, holding it up to him.

  “they likely are, your royal-”

  “please, call me y/n, kuroo. i believe you’re entitled to such a privilege after putting up with me.”

a/n: sorry for the terrible representation of royalty in medieval times gen. taglist (open): @maybespiderman @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy