#vibrates at a very high frequency. I still have not asked if he wants to hang out outside of work ndmjfd

[sandpapersnowman]

added new coworker on Facebook and sent one hundred cat pictures. being SO normal

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter four - the feathered visitor

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1675

author's note: so so grateful that you guys are enjoying the story so far!!! its been incredible to be inspired and motivated when it comes to writing. i appreciate those who let me know they want to be on the taglist - lmk if anyone else wants to be added!!!

also if i missed someone my apologies!!! first time putting a tag list together hehe

song inspiration: how sweet it is (to be loved by you) by marvin gaye

Clambering into the compartment containing your friends after separating from Theo, you are greeted with expectant silence. Ten eyes peer at you with varying emotions; curiosity, caution, surprise, excitement, and intrigue all seem to swim in the faces of your dear friends.

Slapping your hands onto your knees, you smile nervously at them. “Well, what is it?”

“Don’t keep us waiting!” urges Hannah, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. “What was that all about? Running after Nott of all people.”

Your brows furrow unconsciously, “What d’you mean?”

Ginny laughs at your apparent confusion. “Nuh uh, Y/n. We all saw you go after Nott, no need to be coy now.” She winks cheekily at you. “Are you two seeing each other?”

You sputter at her brashness, “Me and Theo? There’s—”

“It’s Theo now, is it?” Padma asks. “When did he become Theo, eh?” Padma nudges your shoulder with her own.

“Oh, shove it, Pads!” You could practically feel the red rising in your face and neck at the undivided attention now being paid to your very short, tiny, essentially minimal interaction with a male specimen. You felt like a research subject whenever your friends interrogated you like this. “I was just worried Theo was going to miss the train—a very normal thing to be worried about considering he’s my potion partner and I bloody well can’t use his brain if he’s stranded in Hogsmeade! Besides,” you said, pulling at the sleeves of your wooly sweater, “that fight between Malfoy and him looked downright awful.” At that, the girls abruptly halted their aggressive probing, uneasily remembering the spat that had taken place very publicly in The Three Broomsticks. All, except for Luna, who continued to peer at you with that typical all-knowing, dreamy look of hers that seemed to suggest she knew better.

As if there’s anything going on between Theo and me. I barely know the guy…or almost barely know him…kind of know him?

Shaking the disorganized thoughts from your head, you turned to the girls to continue the conversation that had abruptly stopped at the tavern. A train ride filled with trolley sweets, gossip, and uncontrollable laughter soon led to your arrival at Hogwarts, just in time for the evening meal.

Retiring to your room shortly after dinner, you found that your housemates’ beds were empty. You guess that they were likely meandering around the grounds before curfew. You savored the silence and stillness of the room. However, all too soon, it was interrupted by an odd sort of sound.

Clink.

At first you ignored it, thinking something had just shifted in your room.

Clink…Clink.

This time, your eyes swept across the room, searching for whatever could be causing that sound. It didn’t sound like a water drip, someone in heels, or even coins moving around in a coin purse.

Clinkclinkclinkclink!

As the sound increased in volume and frequency, you realized it was coming from the window of all places, even though you were elevated relatively high in the tower containing your bedchamber. That is to say, no person could have been outside your room without the aid of a broom or the flying charm. You cursed under your breathe that the window was glazed, meaning you couldn’t see what lay on the other side. Undergoing a momentary crisis of whether you should open the window, you decided in a split-second to just open it and hope for the best. However, you made sure to grab your wand.

Can’t be too careful now, can we, Y/n?

Your hand grasped at the brass handle, quickly swinging the frame open. An autumnal evening gust of wind greeted you, along with something else.

What the fuck.

Perching on your windowsill, was a quaint tawny owl peering at you rather oddly. The bird cocked its brown and white feathered head as you did the same.

What the devil is a bloody owl doing up here? “I don’t suppose you intended to come up here, did you?” Looking at the owl, you noticed it was clutching something in its claws, a small parcel of sorts. “Is that for me?”

As if answering, the owl flew past you and landed on your desk. Its head cocked once more as if wondering whether you were going to join it or not. Realizing you were standing dumbly in front of the window and letting all the warm air out, you shut it. You did not lock it, however, anticipating that your feathered friend would be departing shortly.

You joined the owl at your desk, sitting in your chair. You were now eye level with the mysterious bird, its dark eyes gazing into your own.

“May I?” you inquired, gesturing towards the little package in its clutches. The fowl relented, gently releasing it onto the wood of your desk. Before allowing yourself to rip into the bundle, you pulled out a small cannister of crickets you kept in one of your desk drawers for when you visited your own owl in the aviary. Lightly placing it in front of the owl, you allowed it to treat itself while opening the unknown gift.

Inside, you found a small package of caramel creams, just like those you had gifted to Mr. Flume a few short hours ago.

“How…?” You looked to the bird who was still pleasing itself with your offering of crickets.

You couldn’t begin to wonder at who would have known to gift you that particular candy, who would have noticed your quick interaction among the thick throng of students that had filled Honeydukes earlier. No one had stood out to you in the little time you had spent in the candy store, wholly preoccupied with your candy exchange.

Where could they have even bought it from? It’s not like Mr. Flume even stocks this specific sweet, no matter how much I may beg the man to.

“You must have been flying for ages to bring these to me, I reckon.”

“Hoot.”

Laughing at the short, clipped response of the owl, your eyes noticed a small piece of parchment paper within the parcel. Grasping and opening it quickly, your eyes were met with the same script you had seen on the previous note that had accompanied the moly bouquet currently residing on your nightstand. Once more, the note was succinct and saccharine.

Y/n,

Sweets for you, sweetheart.

Yours,

Teddy

“Seems your owner fancies me,” you said to the owl as you carefully refolded the note. “I don’t suppose you would be able to give me a clue as to who they are?”

“Hoot.”

Sighing, you replied, “Alright, alright. I won’t badger you for answers.” You rose from your chair, intending to allow the plumed messenger to return to the aviary. The bird flew from its perch on your desk to your shoulder, its head gently rubbing against your cheek. You smiled at the little show of affection. Once more, you opened your window, allowing your avian visitor to rejoin the skies. Looking back at the caramel creams and clutching the note to your chest, a warm feeling began to leak out of your heart. Whoever your admirer was, he was rather…sweet.

A few caramel creams later, you were sprawled on your bed and surrounded by your friends as you recounted the entire rendezvous with the tawny owl. You shared the sweets among your friends, but you kept the contents of the note to yourself. Your friends had already seen the first note and none of them had recognized the handwriting. There was no harm done, really.

Besides, you thought, it’s kind of nice to keep something between just me and this elusive ‘Teddy.’

“You didn’t recognize the owl, did you?” asked Ginny. “Godric knows everybody can tell when I’ve sent an owl. That bloody bird, Errol, is hard to miss.” She gives you a vexed look that makes you chuckle.

“No, it looked like any other owl I’d have seen in the aviary. Anyway, there are hundreds of owls here, they’re not exactly easy to differentiate.”

“Well,” Padma says, “at the very least, we know that your little admirer is a third year or older.”

Hannah’s face shows her confusion, “How do you figure?”

“They were in Honeydukes, weren’t they?” Padma shrugs, “Whoever he is, he has to be, at minimum, thirteen years old to go to Hogsmeade.”  

Groaning, you flop back onto your bed, hands covering your face in dismay. “Blimey, I hadn’t even considered it might be someone younger than me. What if it is a third year? Fucking hell, I’ll never be able to live it down.”

Moving your hands from your face, Hermione smiles gently at you. “If it is a third year, which I seriously doubt, you’ll be gentle in letting them down. No big deal.”

“I’d be a laughingstock, ‘Mione,” you say grumpily.

“No, you won’t, Y/n,” replies Hannah. “Besides, it’s just the six of us that knows, right?”

“About that…” Ginny looks at you sheepishly. “I may or may not have possibly, accidentally let it slip when I was perhaps…potentially talking with Lavender…”

The redhead’s confession gets you to shoot up quickly from your horizontal position. “You did what?” You toss at a pillow at her, which, with her incredible athleticism, she easily intercepts. You frown. “Lavender is possibly the worst gossip I’ve ever met. I’d be surprised if Filch didn’t know about it.”

“It was an accident, promise!” Ginny exclaims, “Lavender asked if you were seeing anybody—I think she’s interested in Lee Jordan—so, I suppose she was trying to determine whether or not you were—”

“Ginny.”

“…Yes, Y/n?”

“I’m going to give you until the count of three.”

“Count of three—what for?”

“One.”

“Oh please, Y/n. I didn’t mean to—”

“Two.”

“For the love of Merlin—”

“Three.” At your last count, you sprint at the girl who starts to run from you as you chase her with your wand. She sharts to shriek with laughter, dashing as far from your incurrent wrath as possible.

“You’re going to get it, Weasley!”

taglist: @melllinaa, @randomgurl2326, @lovelyygirl8, @abaker74, @mypolicemanharryyy, @vanevafu, @laceandsuch, @agent-tempest, @themarauderswife7 & @adoraspace

[darlingpoppet]

Upon A Lazy Bed — Patrochilles (TSOA)

The Song of Achilles | Achilles/Patroclus | M | 4.7k Words

My first* Patrochilles fic is two years old today! I’m still really proud of this one (everyone’s fic that’s designed to vent all their pent-up TSOA feels is always quite meaningful right?) So I wanted to reshare it here on tumblr <3 Thanks for everything so far, Patrochilles pals, I love talking to you all and creating for this fascinating ship <3 <3

Excerpt:

Achilles is in high spirits.

Throughout the night, he takes each opportunity as we edge past one another in the tent to fondly squeeze my shoulder, or playfully blow in my ear, or place a kiss on my forehead. He eats his dinner of spiced mutton and bread with a smile, complimenting my cooking tonight as particularly delicious. Even the dogs receive extra rubs behind their ears. If Achilles were anyone else, I might have thought there was something untoward about his easy affection and generous compliments, but I have long since outgrown my mistrust of his sincerity.

In truth, I am grateful for the ease in tension. After Phoinix came to relay the events of the first day to us, the enervating haze of suspense amidst our idleness has abated somewhat. Achilles’ plan seems to be working. I am anxious of what may yet still come to pass if his gambit fails, but for now, the cost has not been too great.

He reclines now in our bed, humming sweetly. One hand is behind his head while the other plucks at invisible lyre strings somewhere in the air in front of him. His ankle rests against a drawn-up knee, and his calf muscles flex as his foot bobs in time to the tune he composes.

I am there, too. My head lays against his shoulder while I listen to his voice and play cat’s cradle with a favorite bit of spun wool. My restless hands have been fidgety all day, so it is satisfying to bind them tightly while my fingers weave patterns into the string, and then release them again. The slashes on my wrist which Achilles redressed for me after dinner still ache underneath the fresh bandages, but the pain has dulled since yesterday.

Achilles’ hum is soothing, like a mother’s lullaby. My body tingles pleasantly. I still remember what his voice sounded like when it was yet untouched by the blossoming of his manhood. Sometimes I miss it, but since then it has deepened into a handsome tenor that seems to vibrate at the same frequency as my very core. I love it.

“What is that song?” I ask him.

He pauses for a moment to answer. “The story of Psyche.”

“Ah.”

I understand why it might be on his mind. In the stories, Psyche had betrayed the trust of her husband, the love god, Eros. Full of regret, she faced a series of trials given to her by the goddess Aphrodite, the last of which resulted in her death. Touched by her fidelity, however, Eros had forgiven her, and rewarded her with immortality upon Mount Olympus. A happy ending where love and devotion win the day.

I think back to our argument from the night before. How we had both wounded one another with our treacherous actions. But in the end, we had been able to overcome it.

I have no chance of becoming a god, of course, but I indulge for a moment in the fantasy of saving Achilles from his prophesied fate myself—that somehow my love alone might be enough to make the gods take pity on us and let him live so that he could stay by my side for the rest of our days. That the beauty between us is pure enough to grant him his eternal fame. And then he would have no need of things like reputation and honor in the eyes of the other Greek kings. The both of us, we are enough.

The humming stops again and Achilles is silent, as if weighing something.

“Are you… getting tired?” he asks.

He often inquires this when he is trying to gauge my interest in intimacy, but this time his tone is unusually diffident. Perhaps he is unsure if the past couple of weeks have irreversibly chilled my appetites. Even before our quarrel, we had been fearful to touch one another in the midst of the plague, and too busy and exhausted for it besides. This is probably the first chance we have had since the hardships began.

“I am not,” I say.

“I am not, either.”

I have his full attention now. He plucks the tangle of string from my fingers; I flex a few times to invigorate the blood back into them. He takes one of my hands—the bandaged one—and presses a kiss into my palm. His lips are soft, and achingly gentle. My breath hitches. Achilles, thinking it’s from pain, stops immediately.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I reassure him. “Do not stop.”

He nods, redirecting his affection to my face. Slowly, and ever so tenderly, he plants a kiss at the corner of my mouth. My lips part slightly, hoping to lure him in, but he is not done yet. He leans over to one side to place another gentle kiss at the point where my neck, ear, and jaw meet. I wonder if he can taste my pulse there, I think to myself. The tip of his nose drags against my cheek slightly as he pulls away, jarring loose a few locks of hair that had been tucked behind my ear. I am in a trance now; my eyelids lower, my mouth hangs open. Smiling, he gives one final kiss at the corner of my brow that is light, and yet so fond that I begin to tremble.

Even when he is hardly doing anything at all, he has the ability to leave me breathless.

“Achilles,” I whisper. It is the only thing I can say when there is nothing else that needs to be said.

“Patroclus,” he murmurs in answer. His voice is heavy with desire. I want him to always sound this way when he says my name.

READ THE REST ON AO3 HERE!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41398932

(*Technically a Hades Patrochilles ficlet I wrote beat this one to the ao3 publish button, but this one is certainly the first published patrochilles fic I actually started working on so I’m still giving it the title, haha)

[tazvene]

Lucid Dream Observations pt 1 ☆≈ 1st Experiment!

Hey! it's January 17th and I've had my second accidental lucid dream, the first was on January 11th (1/11 haha, also the day of a new moon) I'm planning on going into the void state and / or reality shifting through one of these soon. For now here's some observations I've made that you may find useful or interesting! ♡ ↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓

(experiment listed first and then general observations past that)

Experiment: Telling someone they are in a dream

Expectation: I was wondering if this really would wake me up like people say it does, if I would have some messed up creepy experience because I'm "Not Supposed To Be Asking This", or if that's all nonsense and I'd have a civil conversation. I was mostly wondering if I'd be waken up tho, so I guess that was my expectation.

Results: I woke up (😱😱😱) and I know exactly why!!! I told a little girl and I was woken up before I could even finish saying it. BUT in the split second before I did wake up, I saw her face starting to turn sour, and I heard a loud frequency-like ringing in my ears. BUTTTTTTTT what makes me think this was merely from my expectation of waking up instead of this being some weird forbidden thing is.... When I woke up, first I had a false awakening, to somewhere just like my real room, I was in my bed, and my laptop was playing my dream like a movie while my whole body vibrated and felt all tingly, I stayed there about 10 seconds before I woke up in the real world.

If I really was forced to wake up by something external you'd think I'd go straight to the waking reality no?

Conclusion: Nothing is forcing you to wake up, there's no need to be superstitious, YOU are in control, YOU are the GOD of your dreams, if you assume something will happen, then it will. just like irl <3 get your assumptions in check

Observations

Early in the dream I chose to just let the dream play out for the most part, I lost much dream control. When I would try to change things they would only change in the most insignificant way. (ex. I was really annoyed by these 3 toads, I turned around and tried to make them disappear, but when I turned back there was only one, and he was being annoying enough by himself to make up for the 2 missing. Or I tried to go into a door but noticed the wall next to it missing, when I tried to change it back it did in fact come back, but now the door was missing!)

The changes I tried to make to my dream were mostly done just in my head with little positive emotions behind them, I'll soon try matching my emotions to be what I would feel when what I want changed is changed.

When I tried to change things it felt daunting and impossible, which may also be why it felt difficult. It's all about assumption.

The two accidental lucid dreams I've had have both been triggered by thinking about shows/movies made up FOR that dream while in the dream. (In the first dream I realized I was recreating a scene from the fake dream show, and then became fully lucid. In this dream I just was surrounded by actors and the dream was very movielike, so I started wondering if I had left a movie on my laptop on and started dreaming about it, and BAM!

It really does feel like real life, but definitely not how people describe shifting. For me right now it's like everywhere still has dream logic which becomes apparent to you after you become lucid, but it's now in 8k high definition with all of your senses tuned into it. Definitely doesn't feel like a fully solid reality

++++++++++ After my first accidental dream on January 11th I've started listening to Otohime's lucid dream subliminal linked below, I'm currently working on my own subliminal for dream control, removing limiting assumptions, shifting and void state, etc. When that is made I'll stop listening to all others besides my own.

That's all for now, I hope you got something out of this! I love you guys, I swear I'll have some much more interesting stories soon when I can get that darn portal open hehehe. Byeeee! best wishes to you all!

☆≈ Tazvene

[luciferpanini]

Mmmmmm I really loved the sekai swap backstory thing lmao. Do u have any headcanons for any of them? (Niigo and wxs) Like the most random one

[vibrates in various frequencies] i am being enabled. you guys need to stop praying for grandpa because he's outrunning the police rn.

Niigo

Niigo fight for their lives learning how Adobe After Effect works to make their MVs. When push comes to shove, they would just commission Mizuki.

They actually tried to ask Mizuki to join them but they were like "um, sorry, no, I already have 2 part-time jobs...."

Tsukasa has a full powerpoint presentation of how tying one's shoe is not an essential skill and it's not my fault slippers exist stop bringing it up Enanan.

Nene roped Ena into video games and the latter became very competitive.

Nene is very popular as an utaite, so naturally Niigo got a lot more attention after she joined them. Though she doesn't really like how some comments say Niigo is riding off her coattail. Something something event content.

Nene and Ena can have a story arc too. Like Nene has genuine talent when it comes to singing and yet she refuses to put herself out there. She's so adamant about not achieving what she wants as opposed to Ena who tries her damnest and is still nowhere close to getting the validation she wants (the validation she deserves tbh, i would validate the hell out of her don't be sad :( ). Something something event content number 2.

Tsukasa started out fucking terrified of Mafuyu.

Kanade is still very much focused on "trying to make a song that can save someone" since in the AU she doesn't really have a specific target. The other three are like "yes we're rooting for you Kanade, we're rooting for you", but they're still pretty much lost on what exactly Niigo's purpose is.

They should probably open up about how they were all touched by Kanade's music one way or another just saying.

WxS

Mafuyu and Rui do genuinely respect each other. But for whatever reason, they can't communicate very well which leads to conflicts. The atmosphere gets incredibly heavy when they're alone together.

Mizuki and Emu are an incredible tag team, they keep Mafuyu and Rui alive.

Mizuki is in charge of making costumes and props, along with assisting Rui with "making sure whatever he puts on stage isn't aesthetically horrendous". They mainly stay backstage though.

Emu really wants to see Mizuki on stage with the rest of wxs one day but they claim they "aren't ready yet".

The Wonderland SEKAI has an aquarium. A really pretty one.

Mafuyu wishes to find herself through acting, more specifically a role that can help her remember the true self she lost.

Mafuyu has range.

Emumafu commit trespassing every other week. They monopolise the Kamiyama High's rooftop because "the open space makes it way easier to test out our stunts!!" (Tsukasa struggle tweet)

Mafuyu would try to cut down on cram school so she can have more time to practice with her troupe, thus starting her rebellion arc.

Emu and Mafuyu would wonderhoi back and forth for up to 10 minutes because Mafuyu's wonderhois never sound quite right to Emu.

"You have to put more snazz in it!! Like wowza!! Babababang!! Wonderhoi!!"

Straightman Rui. Tsukkomi Rui. Fighting for his life every day Rui.

Rui struggle tweet.

[bookquotes-20]

Crashing

Fandom: Folk of the Air

Ship: Jurdan

Rating: T

Fluffy Angst

Little had changed since Jude’s ascension to the throne. As when she was Seneschal, she coordinated the kingdom’s affairs with unparalleled grace and tenacity.

Perhaps the greatest difference was the respect and admiration that shone in the eyes of her subjects and colleagues. Some entertained the sentiment freely while others offered their appreciation with reluctance, but even those that loathed to admit it, could not deny that their Queen was remarkable.

Oh, and of course, the revels.

As Seneschal, Jude could still make up excuses of work to avoid attending the unending festivities that were often separated by little free time. Cardan was never far from “a party mood,” as it was called in the human world. And when she was considered a mere accessory to the crown, she had no direct obligation to attend each meaningless celebration.

Now that she wore said crown, the lavish parties were considerably more difficult to avoid.

Jude still did not attend them all, nor did she attend them in their entirety. She would, though, make an appearance alongside her husband at the beginning and end of each.

It was a thrill like no other, walking to the dais boasting their thrones, her hand firmly in his, both draped in finery.

He would brush a kiss across her knuckles each time before they took their place together, and his voice would boom across the hall to begin the merriment.

For years, Jude had watched Cardan’s lithe form adorned in lush garments and glittering powders as he maneuvered through galas and feasts and festivities. And yet still, he managed to take her breath away each time.

First with his otherworldly beauty, for their was no other way to describe it. She hesitated to call it Fae beauty because he truly surpassed all the Fae she had seen. The slant of his high cheekbones accentuated by the faint shimmer of gold. The sensuously dark eyes rimmed with kohl that only served to increase their depth, through the contrast they provided against the white around his irises. When a sheen of intoxication covered them, they glimmered like the night sky. The wine he indulged in throughout only served to darken his sinful mouth, accentuating his lips against his pale skin. Unfortunately, Jude was acutely aware that she is not the only one who has noticed Cardan’s painful beauty.

Beyond this carefully crafted beauty, though, through this new lens placed upon their lives, Jude saw something else that set her stomach aflutter in ways she could not hope to explain. Her disinterest with the merriment gave her the opportunity to watch her husband with rapt interest. Observe in ways she had not let herself indulge before.

She watched Cardan charm their guests and dignitaries, smiling wide and tipping his head back in laughter at their stories. His lighthearted demeanor and mischief coaxed grins from even the most stubborn of their guests. Enough so that they’d miss the coy turn to his lips, the sly gleam in his eyes that indicated he was there for more than celebration and mirth. He would masterfully put all around him a perfect ease and walk away having gleaned whatever political advantage he sought. Every. Time.

It fascinated Jude to no end. Her husband was cunning. And no one was the wiser. 

The thought enticed a chuckle from her chest.

The sound seemed to catch Cardan’s attention. He turned his head toward her and gave a small smile as he started up the dais to her.

“Would you grace me with a dance, my queen,” he said, eyes shining. She smiled and took his outstretched hand.

His gaze never wavered from hers. Not when he maneuvered them through the crowds to the center of the room. Certainly not when he placed her hands on his shoulders and his own firmly on her waist. Absolutely not when his fingers pressed with careful deliberation against the small of her back to arch her towards him.

“You’ve danced with quite a many people tonight, my king.” Her voice was mostly teasing. Although, a seasoned ear — and his was most definitely seasoned when it came to Jude — would swear there was the faintest undertone of jealousy. Cardan’s lips twitched into a smile.

“I have only wanted a dance with one person all night, and I have her in my arms.” Jude rolled her eyes in attempted annoyance, but the barest pink on her cheek betrayed all.

He raised their joined hands to twirl her. If he deliberate cut the spin short so she would fall against his chest, neither of them mentioned it.  The longer they danced, the more the world around them faded away. As it often did when they were together. 

The King and Queen had a way of losing themselves in each other. The time, the location, the circumstance was of little import. The ever burning spark between them would flare into a wildfire that burned all else out of their consciousness.

Flint and tinder indeed.

That’s why both startled when a loud cough beside them brought them out of their reveries. Jude nearly jumped backward, she truly would have were it not for Cardan’s firm grasp on her. They turned to see The Bomb waiting with an amused smile.

“Pardon the intrusion, lovebirds — I mean Your Highnesses,” she corrected with a giggle. “If I may borrow the Queen for a moment?”

Cardan threw The Bomb an annoyed glance, as if to say Really? but it only served to fuel her laughter. Jude squeezed his hand apologetically before starting to pull away. He held on to her till the last second, reluctant to let go, desperate to maintain the physical connection between them.

“I’ll see you in our chambers,” Jude whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before The Bomb pulled her away.

The Roach and The Ghost are waiting for them in the shadows of the exit arch. The Roach glances behind the two, suppressing a laugh at their High King who looks downright forlorn at the loss of his queen. What is the expression the mortals use? Whipped?

“What’s wrong?” Jude asked as they approached the spies. “Is there immediate danger?”

“No immediate danger,” The Roach reassured, “A messenger just arrived from the Court of Teeth with a letter. Nothing too serious but it does require a prompt response. They would like to meet with you and the Cardan in one week’s time regarding expanding and fortifying trade routes between the Court and Elfhame. Since it is a four day journey, we thought it best that we send the messenger with a response immediately to avoid rushed panic.”

Jude nodded, “That would be wise. Take me to him.”

In nearly an hour, she had received the message, formulated the perfect response, sent the messenger on his way, and planned the critical details of the summit. The Roach shook his head in amazement, a small smile curled The Ghosts lips, and The Bomb just looked on in respect and adoration. Their Queen was frustratingly talented. When it came to everything except her own safety that is. Her lack of self-preservation was a source of anxiety for them all.

“Would you like an escort back to the revel?” The Ghost asked softly. Jude smiled and shook her head.

“No, thank you, I think I’ll retire for the night. Enjoy your evening.”

They nodded and bid her good night as she started towards the royal chambers.

A deep breath left Jude’s chest as she closed the doors behind her. Her hands rose to her temples, fingers massaging the skin softly.

A brief moment passed until she felt a pair of arms encircle her waist. She didn’t hesitate to melt into her husband’s embrace, allowing his body hold up her own. Her hands covered his as he placed a soft kiss to the skin of her shoulder. Jude found herself thanking Tatterfell for choosing a sleeveless gown for the evening, held up by an intricately embroidered chord of fabric wrapping around her neck.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “You returned from the revel quite early.” Her brow furrowed and she scanned his face for signs of exhaustion. “Are you tired?” He shook his head. 

“My heart was elsewhere.”

The phrase was simple, but the weight of his gaze made it anything but. The corners of Jude’s eyes softened.

“I believe I still owe you a dance, my king.”

Cardan’s eyes brightened. “I believe you do,” he took her hand, brushing a kiss across her knuckles, “my queen.”

She turned in his arms to face him. His arm didn’t move from her waist, simply shifted to better accommodate her.

“Music?”

Cardan smiled and pulled her in closer. His cheek brushed Jude’s and his lips moved to her ear. He began to sing softly.

Jude’s eyes widened in amazement. His voice.

It was unlike anything she had heard before. Deep yet soft, like waves of velvet washing over her. Something in her body thrummed at the sound.

Resonance, was the term that came to mind. It was as if his voice was a frequency her very soul was tuned to. A sound made just for her.

Her forehead fell forward to rest on Cardan’s shoulder. She heard the smile in his voice as he swayed their joined form gently around their chambers. Jude felt the music vibrate through his body against her own.

“You have a beautiful voice,” she whispered against his shoulder. 

“Thank you, my love.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“What song is it?”

“It’s an old Fae ballad, a tale of two lovers whose very natures pitted them against one another.” Cardan spoke low in her ear. Even in the privacy of their chambers, it seemed as though he was hiding the words from the rest of the world, speaking only to her heart. “Just as the lovers constantly fought with each other, their hearts fought them. Their souls were made for one another, yearning to be united. Despite the world of circumstances separating them.”

There was a heavy silence. “I thought of it often in your absence,” he admitted.

Which one? Jude wanted to ask. During her exile? When she was taken by the Undersea? She pulled back to search his eyes. Or perhaps, even in their childhood? When they claimed to feel nothing but hatred for each other.

She rose on her toes to press her lips to his. A silent thank you for his trust, his admission. He kissed her back with more fervor than she expected. Jude braced a hand against his neck, fingers creeping into his dark curls just briefly while his lips moved against hers. Cardan pulled back slightly, breaths coming heavy as he rested his forehead against hers. His brows were furrowed, lines of tension contouring his face. Like he was reliving the pain of losing her all over again. Her fingers traced his face, smoothing the lines away.

“Every time I saw you, there was a fire that lit my veins,” she says into the space between them. “As you said, I always thought it was hatred.” Jude paused. “But I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why that fire burned so much brighter when I saw another girl in your arms.” His eyes snapped open at that, lips parting in slight awe. The corners of Jude’s mouth twitched. Success, she thought as she saw the pain slowly melt off his face as mirth creeped in.

“My queen,” Cardan began, his eyes sparked anew, “were you perhaps, jealous?”

“Were might not be the right term, are is more appropriate.” Jude scowled slightly. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck absentmindedly. “I still don’t like all the women that try to weasel themselves closer to you, with no regard for your wife’s presence.” She felt a tremor run up his spine at the word. Wife.

Jude paused, hesitating before reminding herself of Cardan’s admission to her. One piece at a time.

“They’re all quite beautiful too,” she muttered under her breath, averting her eyes.

Cardan looked at her as if he didn’t quite hear her correctly.

“My love, you can’t possibly be insecure about your appearance?”

“I mean, I’m not blessed with their Fae beauty or anything.” Truth be told, Jude had never cared about her appearance in front of the Folk. Her battle physique and training were most important to her, they still are. But she would be lying if she said she didn’t occasionally reflect on the differences between her and the beauty of the women that threw themselves at Cardan.

“Jude, look at me please, love.”

When she did, her breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze. “I understand insecurities are normal, everyone has them. Gods know I have more than most. But you have absolutely nothing to concern yourself with.” His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. “You are without a doubt the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. No one else has the power to take my breath away with a single look. To make my heart race with a single touch. To undo me with a single kiss. You have ruled my heart, my mind, my very soul long before any of those women you speak of.”

Jude’s breath froze in her lungs. She knew Cardan loves her. He knew she loves him. They had whispered the words against each other’s lips and skin in dark nights of their chambers, spoken them through their eyes when their gazes locked across the throne room, laughed them to the wind as they danced in the royal gardens (at Cardan’s request). Yet the raw emotion in his words right then, the surety in his voice, nearly cut her open. She wanted to return the sentiment, to tell him what he means to her, but the words froze in her throat. A flash of hatred coursed through Jude at that. Hatred directed at no one but herself. For still freezing when it comes to laying her heart bare before him, the one person she trusts. The one person who deserved her vulnerability. Instead, like a coward, she caught onto his earlier words. 

Jude snorted. “Please, you don’t know what the word insecurity means when it comes to looks.” She poked at his high cheekbones jokingly, before tracing her finger down his sharp jaw. “You’ve never looked less than perfect a day in your life.”

Cardan’s hand rose to cover hers. His gaze pinned her in place. “And yet when I saw true contempt in your eyes, the day you returned to Elfhame, I felt uglier than I ever have in all my days.” He flashed back to the hate she directed at him. It felt like a steel net, weighing him down, closing his airways. He could hardly breathe under the weight. 

She brushed her thumb over his cheek.

Tears in his eyes were the last straw. Jude searched his face, her thoughts racing. No more, she decided. No more hiding. Cardan deserves better. He deserves more. He deserves vulnerability and to be loved freely. He deserves no more armor. Jude steeled her heart and something shifted in her eyes.

“It’s interesting that you saw contempt,” she murmured. “Considering I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with you the way I wished to.” Cardan’s eyes widened in surprise. The corner of her lips twitched. “Unfortunately, hating you has never been easy.” Jude stroked his cheek again. “There are days I question whether I could truly manage it at all.”

There’s a lightness in her eyes he’s unaccustomed to. No. Not a lightness, but rather the absence of weight. Jude does not often voice her feelings, but when she does, there is hesitance. Fear and reluctance swirl in her heart and heavy her tongue. The words she normally would have had to force out, flow today from her lips as naturally as water. Her lips ticked upwards, settling into the ghost of a smile.

Her arm wound tighter around his neck, decreasing the distance between them, while her other hand remained pressed between his hand and his cheek. His own arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer still. Her mouth rose to his, just a hairsbreadth from touching it.

“Did you ever truly hate me,” she whispered.

“I believed I did.” Cardan’s gaze never wavered from hers. “I convinced myself the intense emotion that clouded my every thought was hate, because it seemed like the only acceptable answer. I tried to nurture those thoughts further towards darkness and hatred. At least that I understood.” His temple pressed against hers and a breathy chuckle escaped his chest. “What a fool I was.”

Jude paused a moment before asking another question.

“Can you tell when I lie?”

Startled again, Cardan thought. He contemplated his answer. “I believe so.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t think I can put it into words,” he said. “Truthfully, I don’t think I myself understand how I know. Perhaps it is a product of watching you with such scrutiny all these years. There are parts of you I find myself so attuned to that it surprises me. Very little of myself is conscious when it comes to you, my sweet nemesis.” His thumb brushed back and forth over the skin exposed by a cut of her gown at the waist. The ministration in conjunction with his smooth voice is mesmerizing. She finds herself losing awareness of everything but him. “Your eyes usually give me my answer. As you speak, whenever I look in your eyes,” he moves her hand from his cheek to his heart. “something in here just knows whether you are telling the truth.”

She locked her gaze with his now.

“I love you.”

His breath froze in his throat. And he knew, something deep in his heart knew, that it’s true. He returned her honesty with a kiss. Whispering his greatest secret against her lips.

“I love you, my dearest Jude.”

[shirophantomvox]

Leorio, Hisoka, Illumi, and Chrollo Head Canons #2

What’s up y’all! Thank you so much to the people who have given me feedback about what posts you all would like to see! This post will be about the “Adult Trio” and Leorio about how they would help their significant other with a subject in college. This one is a good suggestion! I’m going to incorporate fluff in this, as I am a sucker for fluff. I hope you all enjoy this! I most certainly do. This post is about 2687 words but don't worry, it's worth the read! These head canons came from my mind its a coincidence that some of these pictures match the thoughts. Portentous (old English) means wonderful or marvelous (in modern English) FYI: I am thinking about creating a discord server for both Voltron and Hunter x Hunter fans. I don’t know how to use the fancy perks of discord yet, so if you know how to and can help me out, send me a message! Alright, let’s get to it! Obviously these images are from Pinterest.

Discord Server for Voltron and HxH fans!

Leorio

“Mr. Leorio”, as we all know, is a sharp guy. He dresses in a suit, carries a suitcase, and wants to be a doctor. This man knows everything about academics, especially math and science. He will need to know these subjects to be a successful medical doctor.

Leorio received an A- in Calculus II and a B+ in Organic Chemistry. He was the only one that passed with flying colors while everyone else barely made it. He didn’t gloat in their faces but as soon as he got into the hallway he jumped for joy.

He was extremely happy about his progress and counted the days until graduation even though that was in 5 years. Wow! Don’t we love graduate school?!

He deserved the high grades because he spent countless nights studying missing parties, football games, and being with you just to make sure he was on the right track to graduating on time.

As we all know, Leorio wanted to pursue this career because he witnessed his best friend dying in front of him powerless to save him. The care for his friend would have been too expensive. Obtaining his degree was in honor of his friend; he’d save countless children, women, and men who’d all thank him for his hard work.

Leorio didn’t socialize much, but he did find himself hanging around a group of classmates that were a part of a co-ed fraternity that provided information on scholarship money for graduate school and job opportunities. This is where he met you. You didn’t want to be a doctor but instead wanted to be a computer scientist and decided to volunteer for this fraternity job fair.

As he rejoiced, his smile faded when he saw you walking down the hallway; tears falling from your face not caring who stared at you. He quickly walked up to you, put his arm around your back, and gave you a soft hug.

“What’s the matter,” he asks.

You were failing Calculus, a class you’ve been taking since the 12th grade but for some reason, you couldn’t pass it. Everyone else had A’s and B’s, while you had a D. D’s aren't accaetable in college; most make you retake the class.

“Don’t worry. I’ve just passed my midterm. I can help you study. You’ll pass; trust me.”

Later on that evening, he kept his promise but gave it a unique twist. He kept the lights off and lit 4 Yankee-sized candles in the room that smelled like Lavender. In the background, he had piano jazz playing on his speaker. You felt confused for a moment. You and Leorio weren’t necessarily dating but you both flirted with each other here and there. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he felt comfortable talking to you.

“Um...what’s the music for?”

“It helps me concentrate. Believe it or not, it helps my brain flow. You like it don’t you?”

“No, actually I don’t.” Truth be told you loved it but you wanted to pull his strings a little. He looked up with a confused look.

“Ok. I’ll turn it off.”

“I'm kidding! It’s great!”

Whenever he cannot solve a Calculus question, he reviews similar problems from Algebra II. He applies this knowledge to your problem.

“Perform the indicated function evaluations for f(x)=3−5x−2x^2 . I’ll solve the first part for an example: f(6+t) simply means you will exchange “x” for 6+t. It will look like f(6+t)=3-5(6+t)-2(6+t)^2=-49 . You’d distribute -5 and -2 to the numbers inside of the brackets in which they are next to.”

Wow, that was easy! Wait, not he must think you’re stupid.

“You must think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“Of course not! It took me a while to understand it too. You’ll apply the same knowledge for the rest.”

After what seemed like 4 hours (which was 2), you finally finished your homework! It was probably wrong but at least you made it past the 1st question! As you blew out the candles and turned on your LED lights instead, you see Leorio sleeping on your couch. Something about his soft face made you smile and place your hand over your heart.

“My little doctor,” you whispered to yourself.

“Well, come give this doctor some company then. I’m freezing over here!”

The throw blanket was large enough for you both. Snuggling on the couch was a great end to a stressful day.

Chrollo

To everyone else Chrollo was “Boss” or “Boss Man” but to you, he was Chrollo. Big C was known for his love for poetry and language.

He read poetry any chance he had at lunch and even dinner. It had gotten so bad that you had to tell him for the millionth time “No books at the table!”

Given his past, he always read at least 2 hours a day or one book a week. Reading is what got him through the day.

He was staying in your dorm for the day to relax because he had taken and passed his midterms to. The young thief thought about hiding in the closet but he didn’t because he sensed that you’d be tense because of midterms.

As you walked through the door, you looked angry, so angry that you could punch a wall. He immediately rose to his feet, threw his arms straight out in front of him, and motioned for you to stop. You just stared at him blankly.

“Come here,” he said like you, on cue, melted in his arms. He was warm and the deepness of his cooing voice vibrated against your neck. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m failing this stupid Shakespeare class!”

“Really?”

“Yes and if I don’t pass this midterm I’m going to fail the class for the 3rd time. I want to drop out! Who needs this scam anyway?!”

Chrollo held you a bit longer until you were ready to sit down and get to business. You pulled out your college’s book about Shakespeare plays and how he used Old English. Chrollo was the perfect man for the job! He’s read Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet several times!

Chrollo read a few stanzas and explained them. He then had you read some on your own and explain them...still you can’t.

He notices the problem immediately. He catches you snuggling comfortably against his toned arm, nearly falling asleep.

Chrollo laid at the very corner of the couch as you lay horizontally placing your head against his chest. You were comfortable but you weren’t able to focus. He notices this and slightly demands that you go sit at the table. When it came to academics, he was serious.

For as long as he had been reading, he has an arsenal of vocabulary words ready to be of use. He created flashcards for you and had you flip them over for nearly an hour. You start to memorize the words!

But you’re not done yet.

“Say the word ‘portentous’.”

“Por-ten-trious…?”

“No. Por-ten-tas.”

“Tias…?”

He moved his chair next to you, just an inch away from your face. He cups your mouth and moves it as he speaks again. This wasn’t a hard clutch, it was soft and he wasn’t irritated but he could sense that you were becoming irritated.

“Por-ten-tas,” he said again.

Instead of letting your cheeks go, his eyes diverted to your lips. They were moist and plump, ready to be met by his.

“Your lips are gorgeous. Kisseth me quite quaint.”

Oh no. Look at the monster you’ve created.

Chrollo created a reward system. Whenever he did things right as a child, he was rewarded with money and jewels. For every word you pronounced and defined correctly, he kissed you once. For each word you got correct in a row, he’d kiss you twice.

Soon enough he had kissed you so much that you couldn’t see straight!

The kisses worked because you passed your midterm! Each kiss placed a stain in your brain that made you remember the definition and how to pronounce it.

You and Chrollo celebrated by drinking champagne and listened to him read Sonnet 23 and 57.

Hisoka

As unusual as it seems, Hisoka is gifted when it comes to Chemistry specifically. That is why you two work well together...there is some chemistry going on between you two.

His hair down and his glasses were his alter ego, it was something that made him act completely different than what you were used to.

When you all were freshmen, he would skip class, attend parties, and would be hungover almost every week but once he was called into the Dean’s office, he changed.

You slightly missed that edgy side of him, but you enjoyed having a serious beau.

Hisoka is a social butterfly and is the life of the conversation and you loved him for it but sometimes it was awkward.

While he was chatting away about Calcium (Ca) and Iron (Fe), you stood there nodding like an idiot. You had NO IDEA about what he was talking about and that is why you were going to drop your chemistry class.

“I saw an imbecile put aluminum foil in the microwave and it burst into flames. How did they not know that Microwaves are the radio waves falling under frequency around 2500 megahertz? Any metallic object detected by radio waves inside the microwave acts as a reflector of radio waves.”

You shove his arm hard. He was acting arrogant in front of his friends. You were used to this but it got on your nerves. You made mistakes, everyone does!...even those that almost burn down the entire dorm room.

You two leave the party and head to his dorm room. Once you were settled, you released a can of anger and threw it all over your boyfriend.

“Hisoka? You just humiliated me.”

“Oh? No one knows that I was talking about you, my dear.”

“Don’t ‘my dear’ me! I asked for your help and you’re ignoring me. I don’t appreciate that. I didn’t ignore you when you sprained your ankle, did I?”

“No, you didn’t, dear. I supposed I have a few hours to kill. What do you need help with?”

Hisoka’s way of studying was much different from other students. He exercises like crazy before he opens his textbook.

He listens to EDM instrumentals while on the treadmill and when he lifts weights. You weren’t standing there like a trophy, he made you lift too.

“Being healthy will help your brain flow more easily. Lift this dumbbell as heavy as you can.”

He ran a mile on the track upstairs. Sweat dripped from his face like he had been standing outside in the rain.

By the time you returned to his dorm, you were beyond tired. You laid your head on his pillow but just as you closed your eyes, he pulled you up on your feet.”

“Not on my watch,” he tutted. “It’s chemistry time.”

You were having trouble memorizing Chemical Formulas and this by far was the most difficult concept you had come across.

To make you stay awake, he turned on a bright LED light and faced it towards the table. The bright light nearly made your head fall off from the pain it reflected in your eyes.

Hisoka grabbed his book and began to write down the major chemicals on the periodic table and their charges.

“Pay attention to the following abbreviations and charges: Calcium is Ca, Chloride is Cl+2, Carbide is C+2, and Carbon Dioxide is CO+2. Read these over and I’ll test you again.”

He did just that but you still weren’t understanding. You were ready to give up.

Stupid scam. Why do I need a piece of paper to determine what I can do? You thought to yourself. Well, it’s obvious. If you can’t do the work now, what makes you think you can do it at a job? Harsh, I know.

“Let me try this,” He said. He carried you to his bedroom and gently placed you on it. He took off his shirt and removed his glasses. “Aluminum has a charge of +3 and Oxygen has -2. If there were three of me and two of my clones disappeared, how many of me are left?”

“Just you, right? One”

“Correct! Excellent.”

Wow, everything started making sense once he took his shirt off.

From then, he just inserted himself into the equation and then it started to make sense! He apologized for running his mouth earlier and promised to keep any more secrets between you two. The night ended with you sleeping in his bed wrapped in a cotton blanket just cuddling and that was it. And bam! You slept as sound.

Illumi

Dating the “hot” quiet history buff was a flex of its own. Sure Illumi didn’t talk to anyone besides you, but it didn’t matter. People swooned if he looked in their direction.

History was a popular major during your era. People were not like their grandparents; they wanted to learn about other cultures besides their own. Illumi’s specialty was in world history and civilizations. The class was very interesting to you but there was so much information, you could barely process it.

Illumi often wrote his essays in one day proofread and all! He often charged people to look their essays over.

One time he made $500 in one year!

Glancing at your transcripts, he notices that you have a C- and offers to help.

“Why are you looking through my stuff?”

Hey, he’s your boyfriend! But still, he should ask.

“Sorry. It was up on the screen,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

You began to blush in embarrassment. The hottest smartest man in the building now knew that you were failing one of the easiest classes on campus.

Placing his thumb under your chin, he lifted your head to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can help you.”

“How? I am so behind! I zoned out after chapter 2!”

“We’ll watch a movie.”

“Oh, God! Not one from PBS is it?!”

“Yes. How else are you supposed to learn?”

He turns on the movie and allows you to lay your head on his shoulder but not too much. He is aware of your tricks and he wants you to pay attention.

Every 15 minutes, he pauses the movie and asks you checkpoint questions. If you got them wrong, you had to stand up with your underclothes on (t-shirt and shorts) in the cool room for 10 minutes. If you got the questions right, he allows you to lay more comfortably. You were already in your underclothes but you were under the blanket.

He made you write down key definitions and the embarrassment of each section.

After the movie, he blindfolds you and reads out a term. Surprisingly, you got them all correct!

As a reward for your past midterm, he takes you to dinner at a restaurant where he slips a promise ring on your finger containing your birthstone.

[syubub]

May 13th Reading

Definitely long awaited and way bigger than I intended it to be so buckle up.

Funky disclaimer: this is for entertainment purposes only and not to be taken as fact! This is my interpretation of the cards!

Oh boy. The continuation of yoongis soulmate saga.

(Note frome future me: it's not proofread but I'm hungry. Sorry for mistakes!)

So so so so

Let's start.

I started with all the normal jazz. Connecting with his energy and shit. Same as usual same old same old. Platform= same same. I was like, "hey, let's talk about your soulmate and the whole may 13th shit" and we connected via energy stringy thing to the forehead and such. I was intresting bc my end of the string was kinda my energy color! Neato. Looks like some rest has really done me good!

Okay, here's where I start actually asking shit. I made notes at this point before the reading as I usually do. I'm just gonna insert the screen shot here.

The 14 thing really fucked me up. You'll see later. Also, when I got the whole Pisces Jupiter thing I had to do me some googling bc we established that Jupiter went into Pisces ON May 13th so I was like?? Am I missing something?

I was. I forgot that it goes retrograde and then co.es back to Pisces on December 28th. And I do indeed think it to be significant.

The shit about temperance makes a lot of sense. In yoongis first soulmate read I flipped my shit bc he was like, "You're gonna get temperance reverse" in regards to a card for his soulmate and I was like "pft whatever. Don't play me like that"

And then I got temperance reverse. It's been a significant card from the jump.

I asked him if he had any advice for his soulmate and that's what "Don't wait for big things, you'll miss the small ones that lead you to bigger things" and "Look for facts before assuming" and "Don't try pushing it, forcing it won't make sense" and "A spade is a spade/ ace is an ace" and "Don't make ill informed guesses" all were

Now this part:

"Union has happened , yet to on the physical"

Gave me some hints thankfully because he straight up said no more hints.

This ties back into the whole Jupiter thing too. The seeds are/ have been planted and now they have to grow before they can be harvested.

Well Mr. Yoongi, I'm impatient and I don't want to wait. I want to see you in love pronto.

Anyways

He showed me a little dream box/ trinket box looking thing and a super vague Keychain with no further explanation... so... there's that I guess.

I can't quite decide if "Don't make ill informed guesses" was a tongue-in-cheek pike at me or if it was genuine advice to his soulmate? He just loves to not explain things.

Now let's begin the monster read.

So. The first row of cards

I asked the question, "what the fuck was May 13th and what was it's purpose in regards to your connection"

Important is what it was lol. I interpret this as them finding their footing and this being the starting point of the genuine foundation being layer. Like they've been manifesting eachother for a while but May 13th marked the start of them making the real life changes in their actual lives that will be the set up for them meeting.

The seven of coins is about thoughtful planning and creating security/ stable plan. The tower is essentially ripping away anything and everything that was built on unstable foundation and challenging/ testing your character (an extremely rude awakeing if you will). Judgement is releasing the past so you can rise above it and confronting yourself as you are (Also legit awakening) the queen of coins is financial security and self confidence in your abilities. Ten of coins is prosperity and abundance and most of all, stability. Eight of wands is explosion of potential and rapid movement. Temperance is awareness and balance between physical and spiritual. It's also that quiet peace where you find balance.

So. Seeing all those cards it really does seem like maybe his soulmate took on something new that could lead straight to union? Same for yoongi. I'd like to analyze and recent or new-ish habits or hobbies he's picked up?

Moving right along though. I asked what the 13th did for each of them in their personal life and personal journey. Kinda like what came as a result of that energy? Let's start with yoongles

This was really intresting to me. I think he definitely gained some form of clarity about the situation with that sun card. The 5 of cups tells me that either he was kinda forced to confront some of his flaws in a way that he was trying to avoid or he had to consciously let go of something dear to him? Could be something he had to leave behind because it crumbled with the tower moment but he didn't see it coming or didn't know that it was time to part with it? With that queen of wands though fits beautifully with the sun! Its like he's found warmth after a long winter. Definitely found a spark of compassion and generosity from a place of happiness and love rather than anger, fear, obligation or pitty.

I asked for clarity cards/ anything else that may 13th signified bringing in and we got the 2 of cups and 10 of swords. I have two thoughts. Either he let go of a relationship that he was already in because he didn't feel as though they were particularly compatible anymore (Also ties into the above section) OR the 13th had made him very much consciously aware of his soulmates incoming status and he is now preparing and working on himself for when this person comes. The 10 of swords would be him releasing the past and the pain and any ill fitting behavior that don't vibe with him any longer. Yellow really seems to be working for him by the way.

Soulmate time

Lol. All signs point to his soulmate genuinely starting a new venture. New creative pursuit that will bring them good money. 10 of pentacles is abundance, prosperity and stability. The ace of wands is a new creative spark and passion and it's the first big steps into something new. The 2 of wands is "the world is in the palm of your hands" vibes. Choices need to be made swiftly and with the ace of wands I think they will be. With the heirophant too, it will be a well informed decision because they've been manifesting this and has been searching for all the possible information.

As for clarity, we have the moon. Damn. Soulmates been doing that shadow work. Dredging up all their bullshit and getting rid of it while still taking the time to sit with it and release it so nothing is unresolved. Also probably extra creative due to all the emotional baggage being thrown out. (Definitely helping with the ace of wands vibes tbh)

Now for the bad boys in the middle

The question I asked is what those individual changes (detailed in the last two sections) will bring for the bond and I just can with them. These fuckers. I am so invested in their love story bc it's so... them? And just so fucking ROMANTIC. UGH I CAN'T.

Back to the point. High priestess, 4 of wands and the lovers. The high priestess is deep knowing and insane intuition, the 4 of wands is the purest joy and marriage and the lovers is well, the lovers.a magical union.

FUCK DUDE I NEED THIS TO BE A ROMCOM.

For the row of bottom cards

I asked if they had anything at all to add so I'm gonna explain each card individually bc I think they could be individual tid bits of shit.

Knight of coins is good news about finances/ money looking promising and organized work (also dependability!!). Death is all about transformation, the beginning of a new chapter and accepting in order to move foward. Ace of coins is spiritual and material abundance and also a reminder to keep grounded. Page of swords is confidence, important news coming and really good insight! Roots out secrets or hidden things like a truffle pig. The star is promising potential, healing and guidance from an enexpected place. The two of cups is a soul connection, love, intuition especially in regards to another person and a good bind. The emperor is self awareness, foresight, fearlessness to achieve a goal and confidence. Eight of coins rev is poor discipline and skating by on low effort.

Now to the sides!

Yoongi is the left, soulmate is the right.

So, let's begin with yoongi. The first two cards are anything he wants to say to his soulmate. Wheel of fortune and three of swords reverse. I take this as "its all in divine time/ it's destiny" (wheel of fortune) and "trust your intuition. It's okay to get hurt, you just need to remember you can always pick yourself up" (3of swords rev.)

We have now cards that I asked what he was learning through this process/ in this time. Be positive and first step.

The last two cards are affirmations he wants to give his soulmate.

"When I introduce joy to a situation, I change the vibrational frequency of what's happening around me" and "directing my focus onto what's thriving creates more of what I want"

Now for soulmates cards (same structure)

Strength and eight of swords. "You're stronger than you think. Take every part of yourself and acknowledge it. You're a force to be reckoned with" (strength) and (soulmate snapped at him on this) "the only thing holding you captive is you."

Now we have peer pressure (I think soulmate is learning to say "fuck you" and "fuck off" to people who have a set idea of how everyone should be living their lives), emotional healing and open your arms to receiving.

Then we have "its good to feel good" (lol I feel like yoongi definitely needs this one) and "when I connect to the spiritual realm, I open the door to recieve divine guidance, clear direction, and great wisdom"

The last stretch my friends.

So. Completion, leave behind the things that no longer serve you. Exist in the present and don't keep mulling over the past or any future happenings. Magic, pay attention to the magic around you. Listen for the signs of the universe and take them as they come (essentially listen to divine guidance) . Be open minded but logical as well. Luminous warrior, try focusing on the good in yourself instead of berating yourself for every small flaw. Spiritual path, self explanatory. The blade, your power can be a weapon when used willy nilly (most often wounding the wielder) or it can heal. Don't fear it but also consider how you choose to utilize it. The give away, be greaful for the sake of being greatful for it, not because you want something in return. The rain maker, manifestation station. Create with the tools you have because you have everything you need in order to manifest. "Don't take life personally"

Now we have heaven sent.

""Let yourself be helped" assistance is coming your way so act on it and say yes"

" This Oracle also comes with the message that you are to trust in the things that you feel and say to others without knowing why. It moves them. You might not understand, but through trust you are allowing yourself not to overthink and censor yourself. As such you are able to become a vessel through which the spiritual gift can be passed on to others. Don't block yourself. Let life happen through you. Only benefit can come from this."

And free from judgment, free to love

" If you have been asking life for a solution to a specific difficulty you have been having, this Oracle comes with the message that a solution is in gestation right now. This situation is already being sorted out and the resolution will come to fruition very soon. Hold tight and wait for the eminent birth of that resolution."

" This Oracle also brings you a message about love. You may find that you are loving, or soon will love, in a different way. You may worry about this love, given that it defies what you have known or been taught about love. Perhaps you are becoming able to love another tremendously, even though you don't have much of a personal relationship with them. You might question if this love is real. It is real Kama it is just happening at a different level to the love and attachment you experience when you are involved in a personal relationship with someone. It is not more or less, it is just a different facet of love. It may be that you are opening up to love the planet and her creatures, including the animals, the ocean dwelling life, your own body, the trees and so on, more than before period you may feel passionately purposeful about giving your time and energy to causes that protect and nurture the Earth and her creatures. You are affirmed in this love too. The universal mother is operating through you to nurture life. She will support you in your work, so that you can continue To come from love and not become drained, depleted or lost in despair or fear of futility. Instead, you will be energised and expanded by your dedicated service to life."

" Finally, this Oracle has a message for those who may be feeling alone or lonely in a need of greater nurturing from others. You are asked to stop, relax, centre and settle into your body to feel your connection with life itself. The air in your lungs is the same as the air that moves through the trees. The water in your blood is the same water that fills the oceans and is moved by the phases of the moon. The flesh of your body is the same substance as the body of the Earth itself. The heat in your digestive system is the same fire and heat as that from the Sun. Feel this connection, then do something nice for another without agenda. Make a donation, even if just a small one, smile, say a prayer, sent out a good thought or make a wish for another. That's it. You have connected to life again and in doing so, life can connect with you. And so it shall.

And that's all for the cards but but but.

Someone (either my guide or yoongi) was like, "do a song. Do a song. Do a song." And I was like, "oki doki, sounds good.

So I asked what numbers I should try refreshing and then it hit me. The number 14 came up before the reading and it seemed a bit misplaced? So I did 14 shuffles and look what popped up

You gotta be fucking with me.

Istg these fools will actually be the death of me dude. Euphoria is so romantic and I lowkey feels like it describes a bit of what their bond must be like.

YOONGGGIIII

Anyway,

I came back to the platform to be like, "thanks homie" and it was weird bc he was practically pure energy? Like usually I visualize his energy as what his physical body looks like because it's easier to comprehend? But nope, he was just a big shimmery glob of energy.

As I was going to disconnect, a few things happened. I felt tingly and the platform was vibrating almost? So I was like, "hold on, what the fuck is this?"

And then

It hit me

"MIN YOONGI IS YOUR SOULMATE HERE??"

I could tell this fuckin asshole was smug even in his blue glob form.

The color was... blue like yoongi but also a light lavender/ pink kinda vibe. Pretty damn distinct.

I was so stoked and I thought we'd all get to chat and I could yell at his soulmate for being an elusive asshat

But Mr smug butt had different plans.

My dude dropped a little marble thing in my hand and I was like ??? And he was like, "you'll know when you need it" and I was like ?????

My guide took pity on me and said, "it's just a representation on information that you've been given but it isn't the proper time to unpack it yet"

Cool cool so like and energetic zip file that will release itself whenever it damn well pleases? Cool cool cool.

(Asshole)

Anyway, I genuinely think that my excitement of this whole situation must somehow also influence how yoongis energy handles my prodding? Like what the fuck is this marble bullshit?

To top it all off, he gives me a friendly shove off of his platform.

Thanks, buddy.

Now we are here. And as always, I'm left with more questions.

My main take away is that amay 13th through July 28th will be all the foundation and ground work and December 28th 2021 through May 10th (11th? 9th?) 2022 will be a more likely time for physical union and actual relationship stuffs.

Anyone who knows more about astrology please feel free to chime in on this whole Jupiter in Pisces bit! My understanding is super surface level!!

~~~~

That was a big boi and now my thumbs hurt real bad. Hope you were entertained by the chaos.

[lune-hime]

Mosquito Huntress (Chocobros x f!Reader

I hate mosquitos, you hate mosquitos, we all hate mosquitos. This drabble is dedicated to the hundreds of mosquitos that died on my Korean dorm room wall at the hand of my  left Adidas sandal :3. 

Noct’s was inspired by true events. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

↞Noctis↠

It was the most horrendous sound. A sickeningly high pitched buzzing that vibrated among your ears at a rapid frequency. It pierced the veil of your dream and forcefully drop kicked you back into the waking world with a start. Just as you regained consciousness an electric clap in the darkness caused you to jolt, almost kicking the sleeping bag off your form. A shadow blocked out the dim moonlight that filtered through the ceiling of the tent.

Noctis’ eyes glowed like sapphires and shown with such an iridescence that meant he had just conjured up magic. Indeed, the clasped hands that were held a few inches above your head emitted a faint blue hue.

“Noct, what are you doing?” You drawled, the close proximity of the light within his palms to your face caused your eyes to squint in irritation.

“I got it.” He whispered victoriously, blinking a couple times in anticipation of your reaction.

“Got what?” You asked just as a large yawn engulfed you.

“The mosquito.” He grinned, shuffling to the door to the tent. He unzipped the zipper just enough for him to wiggle his hand outside, discarding the evil bug. Before you could speak up, Gladiolus’ violent snore ripped through the silence of the night from the far side of the tent. Prompto sleep-kicked the man in the stomach, offering a brief moment of tranquility before the disturbance would inevitably make a comeback.

“Did it die a painful death?” Your voice was devoid of sympathy and the seriousness on your face made Noctis chuckle as he sat cross legged next to you.

“I zapped it before it could land on your face. It died a quick death, sadly.” He stated in a hushed tone, gently brushing flyaway hairs from your forehead.

“What a shame. Still, well done.” You praised, reaching up to give his cheek a few lazy pats. He leaned into your touch, so much so that your drowsy limb flopped down onto the ground.

“What were you dreaming about?” He inquired softly. He was uncharacteristically chatty at this time of night for a boy who needed at least two naps daily.

“I was being serenaded by a beautiful man.” You grumbled. You were still peeved you were abruptly whisked away from the gentle, moonlit guitar strums and the man’s ethereal voice.

“As beautiful as in real life?” Noctis mused his lips curling into a smug smile. Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“The man from my dream is real?” Your fatigued features contorted as your half asleep brain actually contemplated being able to manifest dreams into reality.

Noctis scooted so close to you that his leg was bushing against your side. He leaned down and stopped when his face was centimeters from your own, whips of his hair feathering your cheeks.

“He’s right here.” Noct stated lowly, his tone as smooth as the sea that resided within his eyes. Their serene waves were beginning to lull you to sleep.  

“No he's not. Ignis is on the other side of the tent.” You replied cheekily, now unable to keep your eyelids from falling. Before Noctis could respond you tugged on the fabric of his tee shirt and dragged him back down into the sleeping bag. You may have been exhausted but you always had enough energy to tease your prince.

↞Prompto↠

It was hot. Painfully hot. The kind of hot that once the humid air left a wet kiss on your exposed skin it clung to your form and every surface in the sun-exposed living room. The heat was slowly sizzling you alive and you were beginning to feel like a shrimp in a hot pot. A blonde shrimp was nestled atop of you, pressing your clammy body further into the plush sofa. His gentle puffs of steamy breath seared your neck and his limbs encircled you, involuntarily incubating you. The electric chattering of the fan and the low hum of the unattended television masked the otherwise curdled silence of the room.

Slowly rising from your slumber just as the sun was rising in the morning sky, you became fully aware of just how sweltering you were. And no matter how much you loved cuddling with your sunshine, he needed to get off of you otherwise you would dissolve into a pool of sweat. Wiggling around under him, you groaned when he clasped onto you tighter, burying his face further into the crook of your neck. You gave an exasperated sigh and now felt even stickier than before. You began to push him off once more, this time a bit more forcefully, when you saw it. The unwanted visitor stood out against the pale skin of his back like Gladiolus at your high school dances.

So you did the only thing you could do to ensure it wouldn’t escape. You smacked his back. Hard . The clap of skin on skin resounded through the apartment and caused a few pigeons to anxiously fly off their perch outside of the windowsill. The rapid flapping of wings was immediately followed by Prompto’s squirrel like squeak.

“WHAT’S WRONG?” His voice ascended to octaves that seemed impossible to reach. He was now very awake, disoriented, and in pain. He shot up to straddle you, sinking back onto your hips and reaching up to clutch the point of impact. There was a deep red mark already blossoming on his shoulder blade. Your eyes held pity until you saw the tiny daemon dust the skin of his upper arm.

“PROMPTO ITS ON YOUR ARM!” Your manic tone only skyrocketed Prompto’s anxiety. He recoiled when you leaned over to deliver another powerful hit. The poor boy was trying to grasp if he was still asleep and experiencing a nightmare.

“WHAT ARE WE AFRAID OF AND WHY DO YOU KEEP TRYING TO HIT ME?” He exclaimed on the verge of tears.

“MOSQUITO!” You rapidly pointed to just below the sleeve of his tank top, the dark spot illuminated by the warm bands of sunlight. Prompto let out a sound resembling a duck being squeezed.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME SOONER?” His limbs were in a jelly-like frenzy as they slapped every exposed surface on his body. In the fray, it had strategically darted away from the hurricane of body parts but made its appearance once again when the storm had calmed.

“IT’S ON YOU NOW!” Prompto wailed, causing your eyes to grow wide.

“WELL THEN GET IT OFF ITS GOING TO SUCK MY BLOOD!”

“I DON'T WANT TO HIT YOU.” He whined, shifting apprehensively in his seat. He brought his hand inches from where the mosquito rested on your clavicle but hesitated before the glistening skin.

“I HIT YOU BEFORE ITS OKAY, IT EVENS OUT!” You encouraged, scooching closer to him so your knees touched. You craned your neck to give him a larger area to work with.

Reluctantly, Prompto’s palm came into contact with your collarbone a little too gently. You shot him an amused smirk.

“That was weak.” You said. He rolled his eye and when he removed his hand, the mosquito had been vanquished. You both exhaled a steamy sigh of relief.

Suddenly there was a brisk knocking at your door. After exchanging wide eyes, Prompto padded to the entryway. Before opening it, he discarded the carcass into the trash bin and gave his hands a few thorough wipes against his sweatpants.

A very tiny, unamused woman was standing in the hall. A lit cigarette hung lax from her right hand while the other rested on her hip. He blinked a couple times, unsure of what to say.

“Do I need to call the police or is yelling ‘It’s okay, hit me’ a kink of yall’s?” She said as more of a statement than a question, her voice gravelly. When she exhaled, a large puff of smoke blew into Prompto’s now reddened face. He tried to dodge it unsuccessfully and coughed before explaining.

“Uh, no, to both. We’re fine. We were just-” Prompto started, struggling to battle the creeping mortification brought on by the woman’s assumption. She abruptly held up her hand, cigarette dangerously close to Prompto’s mussed bangs, and turned to walk back to her apartment.

“I don’t need a detailed description of what you like to do in bed. Just keep it down.” She imparted, her voice cracking like and unpaved road, leaving Prompto a sputtering mess.  

A week later, the whole floor of the apartment complex was convinced you and Prompto had an affinity for bug and bug killer role play. It would take you several months to live this down.

↞Ignis↠

“Darling come to bed.” Ignis’ command was more of a sweet invite than an instruction as he was far too drained for anything else. It had been a longer day than usual at the Citadel and all poor Ignis wanted to do was feel the sweet embrace of sleep.

“No.” You retorted stubbornly, not wavering from your defensive post next to the bookshelf. There was no way you would be able to go to bed with that thing watching you, waiting until the vulnerability of sleep overtook you so it could feast upon your blood.

“Please.” He pleaded, his level tone turning into a slight whine by the end. This was the seventeenth time he had asked you. Yes, Ignis was keeping count.

“No, not until it tastes my blade.” You spat, eyes narrowing as you tried to focus in on the tiny intruder’s location.

“You are unarmed my dear.” Ignis’ lips curled into a smile. He discarded his book on his lap and resigned to watching your antics. If he couldn’t stop you, he might as well enjoy the scene before him.

“My hands are my blade.” Your statement was quickly drowned out by a yelp as the mosquito fluttered off the wall. Your body contorted in ways Ignis never knew it could to avoid any possible contact with the creature as it floated a little too close for your liking.

Ignis snorted at your response, lightly biting his bottom lip to swallow a chuckle. You looked more focused on killing this spec of dust than you did hunting a coeurl. No matter how silly the situation was, the glint of determination in your eye and over exaggerated reactions had Ignis regarding you with adoration. He adjusted his position against the headboard, satin sheets pooling softly downward to reveal his bare chest. His hair was still damp and mussed from his shower and thin frames laid low on the bridge of his nose. If you weren’t so preoccupied by the mosquito you surely would have been more than distracted by his appearance.

You circled the room and randomly hit any surface that harbored any substance that vaguely resembled a mosquito. When you accidentally slapped your thigh instead of the side of the wardrobe Ingis’ melodic laugh broke the tense air. You shot him a glare that could melt ice and stuck out your tongue.

Just as he was going to coerce with you once again, the small creature buzzed just under the rim of his glasses. He silently followed the bug with his eyes until it landed on the nightstand next to the bed.

“It’s over here.” Ignis gave you the tip, gesturing to the tiny dot resting on the mahogany.

“Smack it!” You screeched, excitement flooding your veins at the proposition of a peaceful night’s sleep.

“No.” Ignis said smoothly. He was always one to push your buttons. Even though he could end this ridiculous hunt with a single swipe of his palm, he felt teasing was a much more entertaining option. You gasped at his betrayal.

“You’re the one who wants it dead, not me.” Ignis responded innocently, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Come on, the minute its dead I’ll come to bed.” You pouted, attempting to bribe him with cuteness. Ignis shook his head and pursed his lips. It took everything in him not to start laughing again.

“But I’m so comfortable.” He dragged out each syllable, flopping down and spreading out so he took up the entire surface of the bed. His eyes resembled the greenery of rolling hills against the horizon as they regarded you from under his eyelashes. They almost made you forget about the task at hand. Letting out an annoyed whine, you turned your attention once again to your prey.

You thanked your crownsguard training for the lightness of your feet as they padded silently against the wood floorboards until you were within smacking distance. The moment your hand met the nightstand with a satisfying crack, a triumphant smile spread across your face. There was no way it could have survived that hit.

“I take that as a fresh kill?” Ignis questioned and propped himself up on his elbow.

“Yes, add another to my kill count.” You turned towards him, still beaming, and held up your palm to show him the bounty of your hunt. You playfully shoved your hand near his face, giggling when he struggled to push you away. He laughed, grimacing when it got a little too close to his cheek.

“Lovely, darling. Now go wash your hand and let's go to bed.”

↞Gladiolus↠

The air conditioning revved to life with three crisp clicks once your sweaty fingers tiredly turned the dial to the max setting. Your corner of the vast training room was now gradually flooding with a frosty breeze that prickled your clammy skin with delightful icicles. A satisfied sigh left your parted lips, thankful to be relieved from the stickiness of hand to hand combat. Your butt was practically glued to the bench as you let the polar vortex cool you down. The grunts of other training Crownsguard members and the slams of bodies hitting the padded mats were muffled by the pulsing in your ears as you gingerly patted the sweat from your neck and face with a towel. A few paces from you Prompto laid sprawled out on the floor, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Don’t get moody, Prompto. She manages to overpower me half the time too.” Gladiolus nudged the deflated blonde with the toe of his boot and flashed you a cheeky grin.

“I know, I know. But the only one I’m ever able to take down besides the new trainees is Noct.” Prompto sighed dramatically.

“Well, that’s not a challenge at all.” Gladiolus snorted and passed you a water bottle, the condensation feeling lovely against your clammy palms.

“He might be easy, but he cheats by warping.” You added, rising from your seat to stand directly in front of the air con. The rush of cool wind felt heavenly on your back.

“Exactly.” There was no emotion in Prompto’s voice. He turned his head agonizingly slowly to look at you, gaze empty. You choked on your mouthful of water at his melodrama.

After taking a few generous swigs from his own water bottle, Gladiolus sauntered over towards you. Rather than standing next to you, like you expected, he grabbed your arms and moved to stand behind you. The action stole the euphoria of the synthetic wind and you whined in protest. He stretched his arms out on your shoulders and rested his chin atop your head.

“Well lately the only one who’s been kicking my ass is Iris. Besides the Marshall, of course.” You coughed as you wiped the droplets of water from your chin with the back of your hand. A giggle bubbled from your chest when you felt Gladiolus tense.

“Oh yeah, she’s getting good. It took her even less time to take the big guy down last week.” Prompto chuckled, vitality slowly flooding back into his system. Gladiolus visibly shuddered and released you from his hold to walk back over to the mat.

“She’s getting too good.” He mumbled as he rolled his shoulders.

“You wanna fight her next time instead of me, Prom?” You suggested jokingly. Gladiolus snickered, making Prompto faintly kick in Gladio’s general direction.

“No thank you. I’ll stick to the 15 year olds and Noctis.” He huffed as he pulled himself off the ground. His movements were like a piece of tape being tugged off of the floor painstakingly slowly. Once Prompto had vacated the training space, Gladiolus threw you a playful grin. He got into a fighting stance, his knees bent and arms angled for combat.

“Ready for our spar, baby?”

"Wait." You stated, attention on the corner of the air conditioner. Gladiolus squinted in the direction of your gaze.

"I will NOT train with this uninvited guest watching me." You declared, slowly rounding the corner of the machine. Prompto let out a quiet huh while Gladiolus shook his head.

“She really hates mosquitoes, doesn’t she?” Prompto asked rhetorically, fanning the sweat from his face with his hands. Gladiolus smiled fondly when you untied your shoe and attempted to use it as a killing device.

"Mhm. Honestly, I think her determination is pretty adorable." Gladiolus responded, not taking his eyes off you.

"Gladdy-" You whined when your target flew too high for your hands to reach. “I need your help.”

You beckoned him over with haste and he padded over with an amused glint in his eyes.

"Give me a boost, it's too high for me to reach." You tapped his shoulders and gestured for him to get down.

“What do I get in return?” He asked rather innocently. Your eyebrows shot up, expecting something more suggestive.

“I’ll treat you and Prompto to ramen when we’re done here.” You proposed, holding the shoe at eye level.

“Hell yeah!” Prompto cheered from the towel rack.

“Done.” Gladio hummed in excitement and knelt down so you could climb onto his shoulders. Gladio maneuvered you as close to the metal box as he could without ramming your knees into the side. You smacked the top hard with the sole of your shoe and turned it over for inspection.

“Hah! Die, bitch.” You roared happily, pressing a triumphant kiss to the top of his head. He squeezed your thighs in return and lowered you to the ground.

“My little mosquito hunter.” He cooed, smushing your cheeks together. “Now come on, let’s get this spar over with so I can get some free ramen.”

"Fine, but if I win Prompto has to fight Iris next week." You smirked.

“Sounds like a deal.” He agreed, winking at you as he got into position.

“This isn’t consensual!” Prompto’s protests were quickly forgotten in the throws of combat.

[childotkw]

Can you please give us some funny snippets of serpent in still water ?

"Want a taste?” Harry asked, voice innocuous and pleasant.

Tom was instantly wary.

He had grown used to the girl’s general disregard of proper, lady-like hobbies, but the chaos in his kitchen was still confronting to stumble across.

He could not recall having met a high-born witch that cooked, that baked. And he had certainly never met one that did so with the frequency that Harry did. It was even more baffling, given that she had expressed on multiple occasions that she had no love of the task.

Confounding, illogical girl. 

It smelled delicious though.

Tom had no love for sweets - a childhood of bland food had left him unable to stomach such rich, sugary food - but the enticing smile on his not-yet wife’s face drew him closer, despite his instincts warning him away.

Harry watched him, expression never falling. In fact, she seemed delighted by his every step, until she was almost vibrating with excitement when he came to a stop beside her flour-covered form.

She smiled at him, holding the offered cream-covered treat up. He reached out to take it, only for her to sway away with a mocking look. “Uh uh,” she scolded, rocking back with an impish grin. “I have to feed you.”

Tom’s eyebrows rose, surprised at the playful nature. He had never seen her look quite so joyous. It made his stomach flutter strangely, and against his better judgement - ignoring his pride at the very idea of anyone seeing this - he obligingly tucked his hands behind his back and leaned down, mouth parting slightly.

Harry brought the treat back towards him, and Tom mentally prepared himself for the burst of disgusting sweetness that was about to assault his senses.

Only, between one blink and the next, Harry’s arm suddenly lurched forward. With speed that would be devastating in a duel, she slammed the treat into his face, smearing it along his mouth and cheeks before he wrenched himself backwards.

A curse leapt to the tip of his tongue, his fingers already curling in anticipation of revenge, when a noise broke through his anger.

Harry was laughing - bright, unrestrained, spilling from her mouth until she was gasping for breath.

Tom lowered his hands, arrested by the sight of her.

[daisybeewrites]

Academy Blues

oh, deer

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none for this chapter, vague foreshadowing

ship: dousy (daisy johnson x daniel sousa), background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

heyyyyy…. yes i posted it early on Ao3

howeverrr you guys are gonna like this chapter. i just feel it in my bones (bc its fluffy and the angst starts kicking in in the next one)

“You look like Rudolph, Daisy,” Elena greeted.

Daisy took a large swig of coffee, rolling her eyes but smirking. The pair were walking together to Elena’s first class after a tough early-morning spar.

“You’re the one who punched me where I already had a bruise,” Daisy shot back.

“Hey, I already told you I was aiming for the jaw. It’s not my fault you didn’t duck quick enough.”

They laughed as Elena swiped her key card to the comms building. Daisy held the door for Elena, shoving her lightly in the back as she passed.

“Hey!”

“Not my fault you can’t see backwards,” Daisy teased.

It was Elena’s turn to roll her eyes and laugh, slowing to a stop outside May’s lecture room.

“Right. Wish me luck, I heard May was giving a pop quiz today,” Elena grimaced.

“You don’t need any luck. I’ll see ya, Elena,” Daisy replied.

“Yeah, you will!” Elena said, backing into May’s large lecture room.

Daisy watched her wave and sit down with a group of third-years, her perfect french braids swishing behind her, before turning around. Daisy didn’t have a moment to think about where she was going before she ran into a solid wall.

Daisy looked up into a pair of dark chocolate eyes, crinkled at the edges with a small smile. The wall’s hair was ruffled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. He wore black SHIELD sweats and a white t-shirt. The wall was very attractive. She vaguely registered the smattering of books on the ground, her mind more focused on his hands on her shoulders.

“Daisy, are you okay?”

She must have been staring for too long. “Yeah, I’m good! Great! Sorry, Sousa,” she apologized, quickly bending over to pick up his books. She almost dropped them again when his hand brushed hers while she handed the thick textbooks back. She gave him a quick smile, taking a deep breath to compose herself, reciting her affirmations. I am Daisy Johnson. I am an Agent of SHIELD. I can move the Earth. I am powerful. I am in control of myself.

Daniel’s smile grew a bit when he heard Daisy laughing quietly to herself.

“I guess you could say I really swept you off your feet.”

Daniel chuckled at the quip, his hands still on her shoulders. “Yeah. Foot,” Daniel corrected. Daisy furrowed her brows, but ignored the strange comment.

“Right. Well, the bell—” Daisy was cut off by a long, high-pitched bell. She closed her eyes tight, the blaring alarm causing tiny vibrations to travel through her skull. When she opened them, Daniel was still standing in front of her, white tee and black sweats and messy morning hair encouraging just a bit more flirting before he had to leave.

“Wow, look at you. Late! I’m a bad influence on you, Danny.”

Daniel shrugged, glancing at his watch. “S’not the first time,” he murmured lowly, stepping away and giving her a last look before he disappeared into the classroom.

Daisy pretended not to notice her heart rate had risen from it’s usual sixty beats-per-minute to seventy-six beats-per-minute.

Daisy spent the rest of the day absentmindedly completing work in her classes. For some reason, flirting with Daniel felt… different than it had with her exes. Even her exes in SHIELD. Daniel was grounded. He had a calm presence. Being late didn’t phase him in the slightest; Daisy would have internally berated herself for the rest of the day.

She was finishing a short answer assignment from International Law and SHIELD Policy while stretching on the outdoor training grounds when she saw him again: still in sweats despite the heat. He was still walking with same, familiar limp. Then it clicked—’Foot’; the throwaway comment from earlier made much more sense now. He had a prosthetic. Before she could think anymore about that revelation, May called the Ops trainees to gather around her under a giant maple tree. Daisy was the last to get up, hanging towards the back as usual.

“Ops training, eh?”

Sousa turned to Daisy standing beside him, breaking his focus on May to turn to her. “Yeah. I used to be military, remember? 28th Infantry Recon Scout. I figure I’ve got to get at least near the level I used to be before I can go in the field.”

Daisy nodded, her hair caught in a slight breeze. “As long as you don’t steal my crown as the Queen of Spar, Master of Field Ops Physical Training.”

Daniel chuckled quietly, turning his attention back to May, who was explaining today’s exercises.

“Partners,” Daisy breathed. Daisy hated partners, unless it was May. She’d rather condition. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the other trainees, they were great people! But her nerves got the better of her and she ended up holding back, not helping herself or her partner. She knew how to control her powers, how to keep herself from using them while sparring. Whispers of doubt and guilt still invaded, fogging her mind like deadly mist.

You could kill them. It’s happened before…

She was taken back to the moment by Daniel tapping her shoulder. “Partners?”

Daisy reluctantly nodded and motioned to him to follow her over to a thick pad of grass next to a small willow tree.

“So, what exactly are we supposed to be doing? It’s Tuesday, which is usually a mix of breathing and nerve control and focusing on technique, rather than strength.”

Daniel glanced over at the other partners, who were all going through defensive and offensive stances slowly, like tai chi, he thought.

Daisy walked closer to where he had stopped beside the willow, pointing out a pair of partners moving almost in sync.

“They’re focusing on how their breathing can help their fighting. Mentally and physically. If you’re nervous, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and then your body gets sloppy. If you aren’t breathing, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and your body gets sloppy. Breath can make a punch more powerful and a kick more accurate, if you know how to use it. I’ll show you the moves.”

Defensive, offensive, block, strike, block, kick. Daisy continued in a cycle until Sousa could mirror her movements with little effort.

Daisy stopped him then. “Great! You’re a quick learner,” She winked, smiling wide.

Daniel smiled back, “So how do I do the breathing thing?”

Daisy pondered how to explain it for a second. “You have to flow, like water. You control your breathing, you have the power. But at the same time, you have to let the air flow naturally. The moves will align with your breath, don’t force it.”

Daniel nodded, and they were off. It took a minute to get into the groove, but once he did, it felt effortless. Every kick, block, inhale and turn, exhale and strike came naturally. It gave him the opportunity to study Daisy.

Usually, especially in the early mornings in the computer lab, Daisy looked tired. Her brows were drawn slightly, fingers fidgeting, knee bouncing. In the halls she walked briskly and adjusted her bag or checked her watch often, a small tic she didn’t seem to notice. Right now, though, breeze across her olive skin, Daisy looked cool as water.

She felt the earth beneath her. The trees and grass and flowers in the wind. She tuned in to the radio of her surroundings, letting her muscle memory guide her. The forest was really loud. The concrete buildings had a sort of buzz, too. They mixed in her bones like the sounds of a great symphony, low rumbles and high-pitched chittering and long, constant notes that provided a harmony to the undulating melody. The frequencies of each living and non-living thing in the area seemed to be flowing around her, steady.

Daniel softly stared at her as she moved through the flow with him. She was very good at this. He was having a bit of trouble, though he doubted he would be having this much trouble if it wasn't Daisy right in front of him. For an exercise designed to relax them, wasn’t it counterintuitive to partner with the girl that made his heart skip a beat when she smiled?

When May clapped her hands and signaled the end of the session, the tired, sweaty kids gathered around May’s oak tree. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, bringing a glow to each of their faces. Daisy looked radiant.

“Class is dismissed. Tomorrow, we’re conditioning,” May warned. In a quieter voice, May called, “Daisy, can you hang for a second?”

Daisy stepped away from her bag and towards May. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I have a question for you. Would you mind giving up your free period three times a week?”

Daisy’s eyebrows raised, no classes that she knew of only took place three times a week. “I want to say yes, but I’d also like to know why?”

“Fair. Top brass called. If you want to be a field agent with powers, you’ve got to practice fighting with them, get comfortable with them. I know everything that happened with Lincoln…” May paused, gauging Daisy’s reaction. When there wasn’t any, May continued. “Your powers didn’t make you an agent, I did.”

May paused, giving Daisy a chance to settle her thoughts before adding, “But I think this is important.”

Daisy slowly nodded. If this was important to May, then Daisy had no problems giving up her free period.

“Who will I train with?” she asked.

May smiled. “Meet Yo-Yo and I behind the garage at seven sharp tomorrow morning.΅

Daisy saluted playfully, wandering to her bag and walking in the direction the other students had gone. She could see them filtering into the cafeteria. A smoothie sounded nice…

The canteen was full of students grabbing plates of chicken and veggie tacos. Daisy was always happy during dinner on taco Tuesday. She grabbed her plate and a small green juice and searched for a familiar pair of heads, warm brown eyes and freckles sitting next to dirty blonde curls.

As she approached, two hands went up, waving. Weaving her way through students, she saw Fitz pat the seat beside him.

“Oi, Dais! I've got something to show you!”

Daisy sat down, her attention drawn to the tiny device on the table in front of her. It was small enough to fit in her hand, but surprisingly heavy for its size. Multiple coloured wires stuck out from various surfaces. Fitz was grinning at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He pressed a button on a small remote that sat on the table. Daisy looked over at Jemma, puzzled. Was something supposed to be happening?

Daisy glanced down at her hand. There was nothing there but a constant weight.

“Fitz! You replicated cloaking!”

Jemma and Fitz immediately shushed her, looking around. “He wasn’t supposed to! It’s above his ‘level’. Professor Weaver practically forbid him.”

Daisy’s eyes widened. This was very Fitz. Tell him he can’t, and he will, just to prove it to himself. Holding it up to eye level and moving it around, Daisy marveled at the seamless invisibility. “What are you gonna do with it?”

Fitz shrugged. He began to explain a number of uses for the device, along with the technical modifications he’d have to make for them to work. She tuned out after Jemma exasperatedly told him they couldn’t train monkeys to be invisible recon scouts.

Her plan to learn something from Fitzsimmons banter was derailed when Daisy noticed a shadow at the corner of her eye. It slipped away as quickly as it came, around the corner of the cafeteria and out of sight.

Why was she getting déjà vu?

“Dais, you alright there?” Fitz asked quietly.

Daisy turned back to him, smiling. “Yeah, I thought I saw something. Probably just tired.”

The sandy blonde boy laughed, “S’only Tuesday, Dais. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us!”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve got six tests this week!” Simmons countered.

Daisy’s mouth opened in surprise, quickly shut when Fitz made a comment about catching flies. “Wait, so you aren’t excited for the tests?”

Jemma shook her head miserably, her amber eyes rolling. “No. Usually I would be, it’s so odd! But I was studying the other night and reviewing old tests, and my chest felt so heavy and my head started spinning—”

Fitz stopped her by putting his hand over hers, gently reassuring her. Watching the two, Daisy thought her heart might burst, a bubbly feeling rising in her chest.

Jemma turned back to her, considerably less distressed.

“Do you want some help studying?” Daisy offered.

Jemma nodded. “Tonight, 8, the rooftop?”

The group nodded.

At eight o’clock, Daisy carefully climbed out her window and around the corner to the fire escape. The stairs whispered and creaked with the wind, but you would never know anyone was climbing the iron to the roof unless you ran directly into her.

She arrived at the last landing, one floor above her own, and crouched down. She jumped, using small quakes as a make-shift propulsor. Jemma turned her head towards the soft thump of Daisy landing on the roof.

The space was decorated with a jungle of potted plants and fairy lights strung around the ledge, mix-matched multicoloured and shades of white. They cast a warm glow across the spread of notes and textbooks neatly placed in front of Jemma. Daisy approached, pulling out her laptop and a pouch of pens, pencils, highlighters, and white-out.

“Ready for our study date?”

Jemma smiled. “Yes. Fitz should be here any minute.”

The two girls got comfortable, beginning to go over notes and chat idly. Daisy wrote down vocab and key ideas on note cards and organised them by subject. Jemma laughed loudly when Daisy expressed her confusion at the difference between the three biochemistries that she was taking. Suddenly, loud clanging was heard from the side of the building.

“Daisy! Jems!”

The two girls shared a glance at the panicked voice. Fitz.

They rushed over to where he would be coming onto the iron landing, grabbing his hand and helping him over the concrete barrier onto the roof.

Fitz supported himself on his knees, panting. “There's a guy down there. Creepy bastard.”

Jemma and Daisy shared another glance, this one full of concern and trepidation.

Fitz pointed to Daisy. “Askin’ about you, Dais. Your…” Fitz trailed off, drawing waves in the air with his hand.

Jemma rested a hand on Daisy’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Go check it out, we’ll be here when you get back.”

Daisy reluctantly jumped onto the metal landing below, resisting the urge to use her powers to cushion her landing. She quickly checked the perimeter of the dorm, then wandered closer to the forest that backed up to the dorms.

If only she had night vision as well as the power to create earthquakes.

A subtle movement caught her eye, a dark silhouette shifting in between the trees. A haze of clouds covered the moon, making the forest darker than usual. Daisy stepped forward slowly, her breath speeding up.

The air seemed electric, the few clouds in the sky bloodred with the remaining rays of sunset. The tall pines and thick oaks were silhouetted black against the sky, branches seeming to reach out to grab the twilight shadows. Daisy threw a quick glance over her shoulder, letting out a relieved exhale when she saw Fitz and Jemma watching over her from the roof.

A twig snapped right in front of Daisy, the treeline only twenty feet away. Daisy felt the echo bounce around the forest. She took a deep breath, steadying her hands and lungs. Something, someone, was right on the other side of those bushes…

“AAGH!”

A deer leapt out of the brush, landing right in front of her. Its large doe eyes stared at her, ears back. It was just a fawn.

Daisy slowly let out a sigh of relief, dropping her arms from where they had come up in front of her. She snorted.

“You’re just a baby. What are you doing in the bushes by yourself?”

Daisy tentatively reached out, the fawn showed no signs of moving. She opened her palm, letting the deer sniff before it bounded away across the field.

Daisy sighed. She felt something was off, like you would the moment before you were struck by lightning. Like any second, something else would pop out of the forest, this time a real threat…

Silence.

Stillness.

Daisy sighed, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. I just need sleep. If the paranoia has set in, I definitely need sleep.

Daisy headed back to the dorms, the feeling of eyes on her following until she was safely on the roof with her friends.

The twinkling fairy lights lit the rest of their evening, shadows and deer forgotten in the warmth of laughs and starlight.

[plus-size-reader]

Form Fitting

Alice Cullen x Plus size!reader

Word Count:1531 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Alice goes on a shopping trip and buys a dress for the reader, that isn’t exactly something she’s comfortable with. 

——————————————————————————————————

It was no secret that Alice liked to shop.

She had always loved to go through all the racks, from the clearance to the high end brands, whether she was shopping for herself or someone else. Being with you gave her the perfect opportunity to do so, as much as she liked.

Surprising you with things had slowly become one of her favorite things to do, especially seeing as you were human and needed to sleep through the night. Since she didn't have to, Alice would just head out in the morning, right when her favorite boutiques opened.

It was perfect, because she could go on her shopping trips and be back before you even got out of bed. That way she didn't miss out on any time by your side, but she didn't have to give up her favorite pass time either.

For her, it was ideal.

For you, not so much.

Alice loved to push you out of your comfort zone. She insisted that it was all in an effort to get you to understand just how beautiful she knew you were. However, you had come to your own conclusion that she just couldn't help herself.

Still, with the frequency of her shopping trips at their high right now, you didn't think twice when you rolled over in bed to find her missing. In general, if she was home, she would just wait for you to wake up, reading or painting her toenails in an effort to pass the time.

It was a safe bet to assume that if she wasn't waiting by the foot of the bed for you to wake up, that she wasn't home.

In any case, she would be home before long so you just slipped on some socks and headed downstairs to get some breakfast. It was no use waiting around for her to get back when her fashion addiction could take hours to satiate.

"Alice went out to the shopping complex, she told me that she'd be back a little later" Edward informed you in passing, squashing any doubt that you may have had as to where she'd run off to. He was headed out, no doubt going to look for Bella, and didn't stop to talk.

Even still, you were glad for his help. At least you didn't have to worry about her taking an impromptu trip to Italy again and scaring you out of your mind. Every since then, she always made a point to make sure you knew where she was when she wasn't by your side.

You smiled at him in thanks, deciding to go watch a movie or two before she got back to kill some time. There would inevitably be a full fashion show of all the things she found on her outing when she got back and you didn't want to miss it.

...And a fashion show there was.

However, it wasn't of the variety that you'd come to be comfortable with and happy to witness. Alice came through the door with her arms full of different shopping bags, but dropped most of them at the front door.

She was vibrating with excitement, and it was over a single item that she couldn't wait to show you. It was all she'd been able to think about since she'd found it and every moment that you weren't wearing it seemed like a waste of time.

"Hello my love" she grinned, plopping down beside you on the couch, her legs folded under her in a way only she could be comfortable with. She had no idea how you were going to react to what she'd found but she could only hope for the best.

She wanted you to react as she had, with that bubbly excitement that she just couldn't keep to herself no matter how hard she tried. In fact, she'd nearly called you as soon as she found it just to share how excited she was.

Somehow she'd managed to refrain in a desperate attempt to keep it all a secret.

"I got you something while I was out. Would you like to see?" she hummed, though she was practically pulling the garment out before you even had a chance to answer. It was a wine colored dress, a beautiful one, but you weren't sure it would fit.

From the looks of it, the fabric didn't have much stretch to begin with and if you did manage to get it up over your hips and thighs, you doubted it would zip in the back. You had been shopping for clothes for quite some time and you knew how well things would fit your body.

Not that you had the stomach to tell Alice that.

For some reason, she just kept buying you clothes, even if she knew that you likely couldn't wear them and every time, you just couldn't tell her the truth. You couldn't tell her how much it hurt you to see all the beautiful clothes that she picked out and then finding out you were too big for them.

It was the worst but as happy as it made her, you just couldn't bring yourself to wipe that look off her face. As best you could do, you decided to just grin and bear it because it was easier than having to deal with the upset it would cause.

"It's beautiful Ally, but I don't think it will fit" you shrugged, doing your very best to try and stretch the fabric between your fingers. No matter what you did, it didn't seem like there was enough to stretch over your frame.

In fact, you were sure that there wasn't.

"Come on, I know that it will. Will you please just try it for me?" she begged, puffing out her bottom lip in a desperate attempt to convince you to do so, knowing fully that she didn't need to in order to get what she wanted.

All it would take was a small smile from her and you'd be all over it.

"Fine, but don't get upset if it doesn't work out" you decided, gently taking the dress from her hands and heading over to the guest bathroom. You wanted so badly for it to work out, knowing how happy it would make her.

You just weren't sure.

Though, you were even more not sure when you pulled the dress up and found that it did fit, but not in the way you expected. It was tight, very tight and you could see every little curve and roll that your body had to offer.

You hated it, obviously, but when the knocking came from outside the door that told you that Alice wanted to see it, you knew better than to try and hide it away from her. She would at least want to see it, even if you decided not to keep it.

"How does it look? Can I see?" she asked, over and over again until you finally opened the door. As soon as you did, she was all over you, gushing like a school girl. You looked so good, just like she knew you would.

You always looked good, you just couldn't help it.

"I love it. It's so pretty" she gasped, gently resting her hands on your hips, the fabric tight to your skin. You were clearly uncomfortable, as anyone would have been, but smiled nonetheless. Even if you didn't feel the most beautiful right now, you knew that Alice believed you did.

She made it very clear to you that she always did.

"You don't think it's too tight? You can see everything" you winced, looking down again at your frame. You could see exactly where your tummy rolled and it wasn't doing you any favors in hiding your arms either.

Needless to say, you weren't entirely happy with it but that was because you were focusing on all the wrong things. If you had just looked at yourself wearing it, you may have noticed that it was actually really cute, and fit you rather well, tightness aside.

"It's form fitting my love, it's supposed to be that way" she explained, gently running her fingers over the fabric to straighten out any wrinkles. It looked really good, but Alice also understood that if you were uncomfortable, she didn't want you to wear it.

"I can take it back if you don't like it, but I think it fits you really well. You look beautiful" she smiled, wrapping her arms around your waist to pull you closer to her than you had been before.

You knew what she was doing, trying to win your favor so you would try it, and against your better judgement, she was succeeding. You just couldn't say no to that beautiful face, even if you wanted to.

Who knows, maybe the dress wouldn't be all that bad? Alice seemed to think it looked nice and she wouldn't lead you astray. Giving it a try couldn't hurt anything, though it was new to you. At the end of the day, when you walked past the mirror, you had to admit that it did look good on you.

[partywithgyu]

Work Of Art.

🥀 Tag: dom!Yeonjun x sub!reader x dom!Jimin.

🥀 Genre: smut

🥀 W/C: 1600+

🥀 Warning: blindfold, handcuffs ,overstimulation,orgasm denial, oral, unprotected sex, punishment, consented sex.

🥀 Summary: Flirting with another man, earns you punishment from your boyfriends.

‹•.•›

Like a work of art, you displayed yourself, in a maroon silk slip dress matching the blindfold covering your eyes. You could only bite your lips in anticipation knowing soon you would be touched by your friends. Yeonjun and Jimin, stripped to their underwear, watched you. They were aware, so they waited a while. The sight before them was gorgeous after all. All that you had on was a layer of silk, nothing underneath to cover your hardened nipple. Your thighs were on reveal, by the dress too short. It turned them on. "Do you want to be touched?," asked Jimin. Just listening to his voice made you sit up straighter and nod your head. You wanted to feel hands on your body.  Then you heard Yeonjun scoff. "Beg," he said to you. Their eyes were on you, all their attention too. You opened your legs, revealing to them the uncovered lips. "Please touch me, master." 

The bed sunk before you. Eyes covered, you didn't know who it could be until you heard the deep voice. "Look at you. You're so desperate," stated Yeonjun. You could feel him crawl closer to you. His hands gripped on your thighs as he sat before you. He dragged you closer to him just like that making you gasp a little. You could feel his breath on your face. "Who makes you this desperate this quick?," he asked. Your fogged mind only wanted his lips to be on yours. You felt Yeonjun's hand caress your body under the dress. "Only you both." 

 "Is that so?," asked Jimin. You felt another body press closer to you from behind. Jimin's hand snaked around your waist as his lips headed to your neck. You were lost in the feeling of Jimin's soft lips brushing against your skin. His hand made way to your inner thighs, making you lean on him. Slowly his fingers were making their way to your clit. You felt a lick. The feeling of a warm tongue brushing past your clitoris took you by surprise. It was Yeonjun. He knew how to make you feel good, so he did but not for long enough. "You're very greedy you know," he said to you. You felt his finger brushing over your jaw. "Very very greedy," whispered Jimin into your ears from behind you.

 "You have us and you still flirt with other guys," said Jimin. His honey like voice only turned you on more. "I wasn't," you began saying only to be hushed by him. "Don't lie, princess." His voice had fallen octaves lower, surprising you. "Our princess needs to be taught a lesson," you heard Yeonjun say. It had been a while since you had gotten punishments. Maybe that's why you could not help but give the handsome man at the café a flirty wink as you two spoke. That's what led to this after all. The two men, close to your body, were two sexy men who wouldn't let go of your gaze straying to anyone else. "Stand up." 

Hands tied, eyes covered, you could rely only on Yeonjun's hand to guide you. Your back touched the wall, as his mouth moved to your neck. Kissing was not for today. He was marking you with purple spots. His possession, he wasn't afraid to hide. There were bites and then licks on the neck you exposed. His hand went to your cuffed hands. "I am going to remove that. Don't touch yourself." He warned you knowing well that you didn't want to face the consequences. The consequences being ripped orgasms. It wasn't exciting to be led on and then left away. "Yes master." 

 Hands free, he asked you to raise them. He pulled off the loose flowy material, exposing your body completely. Jimin who had been watching from the bed spoke. "Sexy." You turned your head in his direction on hearing his sweet voice. Roughly, Yeonjun turned your face to him. "Knees now." You fell on your knees, on his command, like the loyal sub that you were. The tip of his dick brushed against your mouth. You could feel some of the warm pre cum on your lips. Wrapping your hand around his dick, you licked the tip. Your tongue swirled around it. A few licks later, you started sucking it slowly. You were picking up the pace but he was too pumped up to wait. You felt his hand grip onto your hair. "Stay still." The tip of his dick, hit the back of your throat. He was going quick, he was going deep. His moans let you know it was pleasurable to him. He was thrusting hard long enough, for tears to pool the edge of your eyes. And then, he pulled away, letting the warm fluid land on your boobs.

 "Stand up." It was Jimin. He was standing before you, you could tell. Once standing, you felt his tongue slide over the fluid on your body. His mouth latched to your nipple. He sucked roughly as if he was running out of patience. You must've been desperate but so was he. His finger tapped your thigh. Placing your leg over his hip, he had access to you. His fingers rubbed your clit. "Do you want to watch me fuck you?" The direct question, caught you off guard. You nodded. So, he took off the blindfold. 

Your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. They landed on Yeonjun who sat on the bed watching the scene like a show put on just for him. Looking away, you turned to the man before you. Jimin watched you with slightly raised eyebrows, his eyes holding lust. "Turn around," he said to you. You did as told, to face the wall. His hand went to your waist pulling it back, making you lean on the wall. "I want you to look at yourself. Look in the mirror, princess," he said. You turned your head to the side, to look at your reflection in the full sized mirror. You opened your legs wider. His length rubbed against your lips, slowly. Moisture had already settled there. "You are going to remember this." You could see his satisfied expression through the mirror. He was waiting for this. 

 Slowly his length entered the aching warmth. The walls finally pressed against something more than air. The feeling of being full only made you shut your eyes. Your burning throat let out a deep moan. "Open your eyes," you heard him say as he pushed in. Pulling out, pushing in, he made you bite your lips to suppress your moans. Closing your eyes was a struggle. You had been wanting the pleasure after all. His hips moving as they had been, he pulled onto your hair. "Watch." His breath was loud. Through the mirror, you watched him as his fluids filled you. It was warm. He didn't stop. Him hitting the spot over and over again, made you reach your own pleasure. You saw white, your weight falling over the wall. 

 The feeling of fingers brushed against your swollen lips, made you look in the mirror. Yeonjun was smirking at you. "Are you ready for the actual punishment?," he asked you in an intimidating tone. You turned around to face him. Maybe, he was right. You only wanted the pleasure, not the denials. So, you found yourself looking at him with a soft gaze. If not him, at least Jimin, who was standing beside him, would fall for it. "Master, I will never wink at another man. I promise." That was unexpected, it did make them feel some way. They shared a glance, making you hopeful. "Get it," said Yeonjun to Jimin. As he was told, he headed to the drawer immediately. Yeonjun turned your head to him . "You know how mad it makes me when you flirt with others?," he asked as he leaned closer. "It makes my blood boil. Are we not enough? huh?" You looked away from his deep gaze. "You are. I just didn't think about it that much," you said softly. "Then pay for it." 

His hand around your waist, Yeonjun guided you on the bed. "Get on all fours," he commanded. You obeyed. His fingers went into your vagina, rubbing the walls. You were sensitive. The vibrator, kept on the lowest setting, slowly slid in, once his fingers were out. Your walls were stretched out, low vibrations making you moan. It was fun to watch how sensitive you were. Jimin who was, holding it in, started moving it in and out. Within no time, they had you asking for more. "Faster, please," you whined. 

A smack was what you got, from Yeonjun. "What did I tell you about being greedy?," asked Jimin. "But." Another smack. Soft voices left your mouth, as it was moved in and out. Then, he increased the frequency. The sudden increase made you moan loudly. Your forelimbs giving up, your face pressed against the mattress. Your fingers held onto the bed sheet as your high seemed closer. He pulled it out altogether. "No," you whined, your eyes squeezing shut. Two smacks landed on your butts making you groan. "You're so spoilt, princess," stated Jimin. You didn't say anything. If you did try, you could only whine. Smack. "Answer us," said Jimin. "First orgasm," you tried to make a deal with a hazy mind. Smack. "You don't do the deal making here," said Jimin. You didn't answer. Smack. You couldn't help but groan. You bit your lips to hold back any more of those.

"Oh? So you won't talk until you get what you want?," asked Yeonjun, pumping his dick. "We'll talk after this," he said as if they were going to leave you with enough energy to hold a conversation. They didn't.

‹•.•›

To head to my masterlist click here.

[whenimaunicorn]

The Split - Part Two

Read Part One Here

Part 2 Summary: the terms of the split may be agreed, but Mando’s not done negotiating other things...  Content Tags: Explicit smut, some angst; Dom/sub, edging, rope bondage, deep throating, sensory deprivation, cockwarming Words: 8824 Notes: yes I know they use the metric system in space, but my brain can only think about dicks in inches, excuse me. Thanks again to @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ to being the best beta reader and cheerleader a fic writer could ask for!

Mando’s bare hand, secret and cozy under the blanket, doesn’t stay still in your grip for long. He seems compelled to explore every inch of skin in naked contact, his longer fingers winding and pressing between yours, thumb rubbing circles into your palm and then tracing along the softer skin at the back. Your tightly wound hands are resting together on your lap, and soon he grows bolder, expanding beyond just hands as he tickles your thigh with his pinky. He untwists your fingers so he can turn his palm down and run his hand across your warm leg.

You lean into his shoulder, sighing out a soft sound of encouragement. Afraid to say any more and break the spell. Mando’s breath is catching in his throat at odd intervals as his hand moves slowly, deliberately, reverently. He’s not seeking out any particular goal, but still there is a mission in his fingers, in the broad heavy breadth of his palm, as he slides around your knee, ghosting past the seam between your legs and caressing over your belly. “So… soft,” he marvels.

His tone just about melts you. Usually you keep your guard up pretty high around your lovers, knowing nothing ever lasts in the kind of life you live. Seemed like the Mandalorian operated the same way, too, after the explosive, purely physical encounter you two had just shared. But now? The soft warmth of this moment is making you start to vibrate on a whole different frequency.

It’s dangerous. You tell yourself not to misunderstand him. The tenderness of his touch as he drags his fingers up between your breasts may be purely selfish on his part. He rarely gets to do this; experience the feeling of any kind of skin underneath his. It might not mean anything to him that it’s yours.

His voice crackles softly through the modulator. “Lay down for me.”

Right here on the deck, huh? His upper body leans into yours, corralling you forward. It’s not like there’s anywhere else, you suppose; didn’t look like there was room for two on that rack that only barely qualifies as a cot in the closet. He stays close as you pivot on your hip and lay your blanket-wrapped back down on the ground. His bare hand remains on your thigh, under the fabric, through the whole transition. He uses the gloved one to manage that cover as you’re settling down, with deft little tugs that make certain it stays fully wrapped around you, hiding your whole body and giving his exposed fingers free reign to travel anywhere they might want to go.

Mando settles in close alongside you on the ground, resting his weight on one elbow while using that hand to hold the blanket down tight across your shoulders. It’s strange how the meticulous way he’s keeping you covered is only making you feel more exposed. Every square inch of skin kept under the blanket is being readied for the pleasure of his touch. You don’t know if this is just some extended version of cuddling, or if it’s going to turn into a sexual round two; but either way it feels divine.

You end up with no concept of how much time passes as he explores you. The slide of his fingers is not explicitly sexual, and yet that only makes it feel more erotic, like every part of your body exists only for him. You relax into the floor and gaze up at his unchanging helmet, inclined not too far above your face as he leans over you to reach everything he wants. You have no idea if his eyes are open or closed under there, if he’s focused entirely on the touch or if he likes watching your face too. You listen to the variances in his breath: slow and long as he slides his palm along your thigh, hitching just a little as he takes his time with the swell of your hipbone, pulling air faster and deeper past the beskar when his thumb starts to outline your breasts.

By the time he gets down to the apex of your thighs you’re panting too, and you spread your knees so eagerly that one leg slips out the side of the cover. Mando’s helmet swivels and you both stare at the contrast the living warmth of your skin makes against the cool tones of steel that surround it.

You press the outside of your thigh deliberately against the armor plate covering his leg where he lays alongside you. It’s a thrill to feel more of his hardness against your open vulnerability. Mando makes no move to fix the blanket, content to nestle his bare hand just above your sex where the rumpled folds of fabric keep his warrior’s honor safe.

He props himself up a little higher, still looking at your bare leg as he gets the leverage he wants to run his fingertips down over your lower lips, barely skimming the surface of your most intimate skin. You can’t help but sigh and lift your hips toward him, offering yourself up fully.

“Do you want me to…?” he breathes, trailing off as his finger slides up the seam of your slit with the tiniest increase in pressure.

“Fuck,” you exhale, screwing your eyes shut against the tantalizing need that rushes over you, “yes.”

Mando keeps teasing your outer folds with several languid strokes of his fingers before even beginning to part them. Is he teasing you, or himself? Heavy exhales leave both your throats when one digit slides far enough through to feel wetness.

His finger moves just a little bit faster, dragging through that slickness along your inner lips, just deep enough to make it clear how wet you already are for him, not deep enough to be penetrating you at all. You’re swollen and sensitive here, after the poundings you so recently took from him, but he’s not pressing hard enough to make you feel sore.

A second finger joins the first, pressing up and down in ever-widening circles, sliding between your every fold, dipping shallowly into your juicy hole just enough to drag that wetness along every hidden nerve ending he can find between your legs. It’s almost obscene the way he’s playing with you, spreading and twisting and curling his fingertips everywhere except the places most men go straight towards.

You squeeze your fists to keep still through the sweet ordeal. You don’t even realize you’ve thrown your head back until the short command buzzes over his modulator: “Eyes.”

So it’s back to that. The reminder of his rule dials your consciousness back to a sweet submissive frequency again; the rest of your body melts as you tip your head up to look him in the face. Your neck strains just a little, bemoaning the lack of a pillow.

Mando shifts, his undulating fingers momentarily stilled between your plush lips as he repositions his weight and slides the forearm he’s leaning on behind your head. His vambrace is not the softest support, but you’ll take it just to feel more encircled in his arms.

His beskar face looms so close to yours now. Obediently, you keep your eyes fixed on the tinted screen from where his gaze may or may not be staring back into yours. The contrast is almost unfair, but it’s also a relief from the way real eye contact can sometimes feel too intense. You relax your face and let your eyes slide along the silvery edge of his visor, to memorize the solid, elegant dips and curves of his distinctive helmet. Your gaze mimics the languid slide of the Mandalorian’s fingers, and the way they seem to be memorizing the deep curves of your body.

The first time his fingertips circle your clit you buck up into him, then force yourself to freeze so as not to risk knocking the blanket even more askew than it already is. Mando’s helmet emits a deep sound that might be a chuckle, and he very slowly, very carefully, drags one fingertip entirely around your clitoris. It makes you shudder beneath him, to feel him so close to that hotspot and yet still deliberately not touching it. Your eyes plead up at his mask as he does it again and again. The sides of his fingers are only barely brushing the edges of your clit, and it’s making you feel like you’re going to burn up with your need.

Your tongue pokes out between your teeth. You have the ridiculous urge to lick along a smooth curve of that beskar face; anything that might possibly make him break. You settle for rubbing your hand up his flank, seeking the chinks in his armor where maybe only one layer of fabric might stand between you and him. You find a gap between two padded segments, right around his ribs, opened up by the way he’s laying propped up on his side. You think you hear the modulator hiss when you make contact, feel a little warmth through the cloth, a part of him that’s almost soft. As you fit your whole hand into the gap, palm pressing flat against his body, Mando’s fingertip finally rolls broadly over your clit.

You hold on to him there as the relief of direct contact rushes into an overflowing burst of pleasure that has you straining. He rocks against your bud solidly, in circles that grow larger and larger, one fingertip sliding into two, and then most of his hand is rubbing between your legs. Teasing, again. He keeps coming back to more direct pressure on your clit, at least, giving you little bursts that keep your passion climbing as his fingers slide luxuriously through your pussy until you’re a moaning mess. Especially since every time he returns to your opening, he dips in a little deeper, seeking further and further for the nectar to coat his fingers.

You feel your legs start to involuntarily shake. “Mando,” you whimper, “please let me come.”

He pauses, angling his helmet more directly at your face. “You’re greedy.”

And then he just continues that slow, possessive pace, not spending enough time in any particular place to let you finish. His fingers are more and more inside you now, curling and twisting with that same unreal patience, noting the spots that make you sigh and sputter, but not driving at anything. And though he might be leaning happily into the pressure of your hand at his flank, the imploring squeezes you give him there cannot make him change his pace.

When you can’t take it anymore, when two or maybe more of his fingers are plunging as deep inside you as they can fit, you lift your own hand to your clit, underneath the blanket. Maybe you’re hoping he won’t notice. Maybe, as submissive as he makes you feel, you’re just a brat at heart. You can’t stop yourself from groaning at the bliss of pressing down on that magic button yourself, while Mando’s hand fills you from the inside.

He pulls his fingers out of you, abruptly. His hand closes over yours in an instant, catching you in the act. You press harder on yourself anyway, and open your needy little mouth to pant into his face.

He squeezes hard around your fingers, pulls your hand up and away from yourself without mercy. “Do I need to tie you up?”

You wiggle under him, abandoning your obviously-failed plan with only a tiny pout. “You might.”

He gets his glove back on surprisingly fast. He comes up to his knees and then pauses, looming over you on the floor. “Stay. Don’t touch yourself again.”

You stick out your bottom lip, squirming under the blanket that covers you chin to toe aside from that one errant leg.

“Hands where I can see them.”

Exhaling sharply, you pull your arms out of the blanket, laying your hands flat on your stomach for him and staring up at him with a bratty scowl through your eyelashes.

“Keep up the attitude. See where it gets you.”

You roll your body on the floor, squeezing your legs together against the burning need he’s left between them. “Mando, I’m just…” you rock your hips, running your hands over your body and silently pleading with him to take mercy on your needy state.

He watches you, cocking his head to the side at your shameless writhing beneath him. “You’re tough. You’ll make it.” He stands abruptly and crosses the bay to a storage closet. You don’t miss the way he had to adjust himself in his pants on the way up. The discipline of this man, you marvel, not to fuck you into the floor right here.

You expect him to come back with a set of binders, like he uses on his quarries, but Mando returns to your line of sight carrying a length of thick woven cord wrapped over his arm. “How… rustic,” you remark at his low-tech solution.

“Up on your knees.”

A patient man like Mando could probably drag this out for hours. If you want to get your satisfaction, you’re going to have to be as seductive as possible, try to make him break. You drop the blanket from your body, exposing everything boldly as you roll yourself up and sit on your heels.

Hard to say if the Mandalorian’s eyes are sliding covetously over your body. The cool helmet is expressionless, but something in the still way he’s standing suggests you’re having the intended effect. He steps closer, heavy and deliberate, and you smile. Leaning in, he almost brushes his helmet against your cheek. He bends further and instead retrieves the blanket from the floor.

He straightens up and with deft movements, folds the blanket into an even square. You think at first that this is another expression of his military discipline, no loose items left lying around the ship, but when he spreads it on the deck in front of you and his hand motions you curtly forward, you realize he’s made a pad for your unprotected knees.

He reaches out and slides one gloved finger over your cheek as he steps around your side, unfurling a few arm-lengths of the cord as he goes. You can’t see him when he takes a position directly behind you, but his hands wrap over both your shoulders. You arch your back for him, trying to look tempting as he caresses down your arms and pulls them firmly behind your body. “Mandalorian training covered a lot of skills for improvising,” he tells you as he starts to bind up your arms with steady, snug rounds of cord. It’s smooth and cool and not at all unpleasant against your bare skin. “And I always thought these knots looked really… interesting.”

As if his words weren’t enough, the tone with which he says them definitely says you’ve discovered another one of his kinks. So you hold still and preen while the Mandalorian trusses you up to his satisfaction.

“Wiggle your fingers,” he says softly when he finishes with your arms, “too tight? Are you losing any feeling?”

You breathe deep and try to focus on his question, ignoring your spiraling arousal long enough to think about the practical. “No, it’s fine,” you conclude.

He hums a satisfied sound and wraps the next length of cord around your waist, twice. He lets his fingers trail and roam over your skin as he settles the binding where he wants it, waking up the nerves around your ribs and belly, even indulging himself in playing with your tits for a few breathless moments before getting back to work securing your limbs.

He ties your ankles too, after making certain you’re able to balance with your feet crossed. He leaves enough slack in the cord between your hands and feet to allow you to keep your hips straight and kneel up high, and when he steps around to the front of you, you realize why. In this position, your face is even with his belt as he stands before you. Looking straight down at you his head cocks to one side, then the other. His fingers trail over your chest, then your neck, almost absent-mindedly. He lifts your jaw to trace your face, clearly enjoying the way he can touch you while you can barely move. “I like you like this.”

You smile around the thumb that’s currently brushing across your lips. He uses the opportunity to press into the gap between your lips, and you stare up into his visor as you open your jaw and accept him in further, tasting the vaguely salty leather of his glove.

He takes a breath, as if he’s about to say something, but then just silently freezes. You wonder what he was thinking as he takes his hand away from your face. Whatever it was, you think it actually made him tremble.

“Say it,” you urge.

He freezes again, looms a little closer, and then just shakes his head. He runs his fingers through your hair, mussing it some as he keeps thinking. He grabs a handful and uses it to change the angle of your neck, pushing you back and forth, just because he can. He runs his other hand down your chest and closes it over your breast. “You just look so fucking good,” he says, voice bottoming out on the curse, and starts teasing at your nipple too distractingly for you to speak again.

You’re pretty sure he was thinking about something more than this, but damn, it’s easy to let that go when he’s taking advantage of your exposed, precarious position in such an overwhelming way. He’s crueler with your nipples than last time, and you can’t really squirm away from him without falling over. And he knows it. Heat shoots in an insistent line to your core with every pinch and tug, until your cunt is clenching at nothing and you’re pleading with him all over again. “Fuck, Mando. Please. I need to come.”

“Me first.”

His hands comes back to your face, grip more insistent, as needy as you’re feeling as he scoops up both your cheeks and pulls your face up so he can search your eyes.

His thumbs spread softly over your cheekbones, unexpectedly tender. “Did you say you would accept a blindfold?” He asks it like he thinks it’s a hard thing to agree to. Like he’s worried you were only joking before. You wonder again what the state of his sex life has been, before you, before this, this strange and wonderful thing that just sort of started happening between you…

“Of course.” You press your face more firmly into his hands. “I trust you.”

The groan he answers you with sounds different from all the other ones you’ve gotten out of him today. He presses the tip of one thumb silently to your lips, then steps away to find something to use.

He comes back with a strip of white-ish fabric held out between his hands, draped across both palms. It’s a rag, really, probably something he’s saved to use as a bandage, and his posture is one of sheepish yet hopeful apology. “This is the best I could find.”

So he doesn’t take girls back to his ship often enough to have any sort of necessary fucking-a-strict-Mandalorian gear at the ready. That’s… sort of comforting. You tip your head up to him in response, and reassure him as simply as you can. “Thank you.”

Only as he’s wrapping it carefully across your eyes do you realize that putting this on you means that he will be taking something of his own off. How much skin is he planning to bare this time? You feel your whole self flush in anticipation; because even if you won’t be able to see it, you’re going to feel it, somewhere on your arched and bound body.

The ship feels simultaneously louder and more silent when you lose your sight along with your ability to move. Time seems to stretch out. Nothing fills your perception but the Mandalorian; his movements, his presence, the snugness of the cords he’s bound you with, and the brush of his hands as he secures the blindfold at the back of your head. His fingers trace along the bottom edge of the cloth when he’s done, along your cheekbone and up to the bridge of your nose. His fingers. No glove anymore. When he traces them down over your lips you just have to reach out and try to catch one in your mouth, sucking the salt directly from his skin.

His breath hitches. You wonder just how sensitive his bare skin is, given the life he leads. He lets you have one finger, to suck deep into your mouth, to explore with your tongue and the inside of your cheek. The rest of his hand closes softly over your face as you pull him in as far as you can. It’s callused, but not rough. Hands that are worked hard but always insulated, protected. You lick your tongue out a little into his palm and he moans for you. Sensitive, indeed. You wonder if it will be the same when you get to his cock. But all men are sensitive there, are they not?

His finger dances along with your movements, respectful of its position as a guest inside your mouth, but still commanding the space. You almost don’t notice him getting down to his knees in front of you, until the clang of his armor against the deck draws your attention. His other glove is off too, you note as he takes you around the hip, steadying you and caressing in equal measure.

He draws his finger from your mouth slowly, playing with your bottom lip on the way out. The touch of it is absent from your perception for only a moment, though; he uses that fresh wetness to press suddenly between your lower lips, going directly for your clit this time.

Your moan sounds a lot like a whine; he’s got you revved fully up again in an instant. You lean into him as the little circles he’s rubbing start to make you feel weak. He still has all his armor on, which you realize when your breasts brush his cuirass just a moment before your head contacts the edge of his helmet. Does he like it that way? Would it just be too much for him to open up more of his skin to you?

He draws you to rest more of your weight against him, a welcome relief from the somewhat awkward balance you’ve been maintaining in this bondage. The cords wrapped around your middle tighten even as the pressure comes a little bit off your ankles and your hip muscles. A decent trade. The erotic discomfort only makes you feel more sensitive to his hands, one working your clit mercilessly while the other is now curving over your backside. He grunts in a pleasured little noise when he feels at the knots keeping your wrists tight against you back there, and you swear you can feel the sound vibrate through his chestplate where you’ve sagged against him.

“Do you like this?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you hum, pushing a lot of emotion into the one little word, and rubbing the side of your face into that angled beskar curve over his cheek. It’s a little strange, to snuggle the man’s helmet, but in the moment it feels right. It’s also the only affectionate movement possible, given your current predicament.

He presses two fingers inside you, deliberately and with very little preamble. You moan against him, pretty sure this is more teasing but determined to get the most out of it while it lasts. He did say that he was going to come first this time. But he presses on to find that wonderful, overwhelming g-spot inside of you, and curls his fingers against it until you are all but sobbing.

When your breathing starts to change he slows, and there’s no amount of wiggling that you can do to make him go faster again. “I did tell you—”

“Yeah, fuck,” you answer, “you first. I remember. Please.” Your throat’s fucking dry after all that panting, and you have to swallow before you can keep talking. “How can I help?”

You think maybe he laughs at your wry little tone; or maybe your voice is so blown out from being edged for what feels like kriffing hours that the joke doesn’t come out so well as you think. He leans back, making you hold up your own weight on your knees again, and drags his slick fingers up your bound and straining body. “I seem to recall an offer to suck me so good, I’ll forget my own name. Or… a similar boast.”

“It was something like that,” you say, distracted from recalling your exact words from that final attempt to renegotiate the bounty split, because his phrasing makes you think of something else. “I better not try to be that good, because I wouldn’t be able to remind you. I don’t even know your name.”

“No,” the Mandalorian says as you hear him stand up and unzip his heavy trousers, “you don’t.”

Fuck if that doesn’t make this hotter, for how little you really know about this man to be at the forefront of your attention right before he sticks his big, fat dick in your mouth.

One of his hands starts roaming over your body again, paying particular attention to your outstretched tits, and the places where you’re bound tight in the cords. The other one is suspiciously absent. You imagine him stroking his own length with it, softly at first, fingers in a loose ring around that girth as he gets himself ready to abuse you with it. His size is going to be a challenge. But you’ve never been one to back down in the face of hardship before, when the goal is worth it. And convincing Mando to make you come again… that’s a prize worth fighting for.

The only warning you get is a soft grasp of his hand at the side of your face, his thumb tipping your cheekbone up as the rest of his fingers wrap under your ear. The next thing you feel is the blunt, velvety tip of him brushing against your lips.

“Open your mouth.”

You’re a little embarrassed he had to say it. You were just so lost in the moment, enjoying the feel of his head brushing across your lips like a kiss. Now you part them for him eagerly, tipping your head so he can watch your tongue curl out and lick around the edge of his head. He doesn’t press in closer, and you can only manage to suck around just the tip of his cock.

“Show me,” he says. His voice is tight and you know that you have him already, but he’s remaining resolute to whatever game he’s decided to play. “Show me how bad you want it.”

You strain your neck to get more of him, but he’s not working with you, and you gain maybe only an inch of smooth, thick shaft. You work your tongue around the ridge of his head, then start sucking strong enough that you can feel him shiver.

“I can see you, but I can’t hear you.”

It’s easy to moan for him, and you’re rewarded with another inch of his thickness in your mouth. You know by the steadiness of the angle that he’s got one hand wrapped around the base of himself, pointing it down for you, but your lips haven’t yet come near to hitting that grip. You try to push forward, to reassure yourself that he’s not too long for you, but even as his head is bumping into sensitive parts at the back of your mouth, you still don’t contact those fingers. Fuck, he’s big. And you can’t even spit into your own hands and use that shortcut to make him feel more enveloped. This job is all on your tiny little mouth, and how much you can manage to relax your throat.

Your next moan comes out sounding a little bit more desperate.

“Ung, do I love that sound,” Mando moans above you, his tone somewhere between appreciative and cruel. Bastard can’t seem to help being intimidating no matter what he’s doing.

Finally you give up on the suspense for yourself, and pop him out of your mouth in favor of running long licks down the sides of him. It’s sloppy, leaving your cheeks embarrassingly wet, but what else is there to do? You have to find the end of him.

You reach his hand with your tongue and it dances out of your way, allowing you to lick all the way to the hair curling around his base. He pushes you back a little when you try to get down to his balls, though, and presses his length into your cheek until you turn your head and accept him back into your open mouth. It was worth a try.

He groans above you when you close your lips around his tip and give him a swirl of your tongue. A strong, deep pull after that earns you more of those foreign-tongue curses. And when you take a deep breath and then try to pull him in even deeper…

“Are you gonna—” his head bumps the back of your throat and you keep pulling “—oh, yes—” your gag reflex tries to start and you swallow down against it, spasming your pharynx against the thick tip of him “—just like that, yes, fuck yes, you’re doing so good.”

His hips start to crowd you, but now you’re at the point where you can’t breathe and it’s harder to fight your body’s instincts. An ugly sound comes out of your throat and before you get as far as you wanted your upper body is flinching and trying to pull you away. Mando retreats and you try not to cough too loudly.

You don’t want to let him down. As soon as your reflexes relax you’re lifting your head to find his cock with your lips again. “Fuck,” Mando curses again as you drag him back in, and you can hear the reluctance fighting with the eagerness in his voice. “You don’t have to—”

You cut him off by sucking him hard and deep again, proving your determination even without the use of your voice, your eyes, or your hands.

The sounds you make as you keep struggling to take as much of him as you can aren’t the prettiest sounds in the world, but you can’t really help it anymore, and you just have to hope the whines and gulps aren’t ruining this for him as you all but choke yourself on his dick.

Mando’s hand comes to cup your cheek, the other one winding further around the back of your head, so soothing in contrast to the abuse you’re putting yourself through to do this for him. “So fucking good,” he murmurs. “Trying so hard for me. I love to hear how you’re trying.”

And those sweet words are the only thing that lets him get away with starting to push, in time with the bobbing of your head, and with wrapping his fingers a little tighter behind your skull and making it even harder for you to catch a break every time you need one. You have to believe that he even likes hearing you gag, when he’s driven you to it for the third time.

“Oh yes you sweet little—” a panting breath cuts off his thought, “and I thought fucking your pussy was good—” you gag and he groans in pleasure. His fingers tighten in your hair, though he gives you enough space to breathe. “Love how you take me so good, in both ends.”

You’re glad of the blindfold when you realize that tears have been leaking out of your eyes. You want to do this for him, to be his good girl, and you don’t want to make him feel guilty about the struggle. You still don’t want the best bounty hunter in the parsec to think that you’re weak.

“Doing so good for me,” he pants the next time you loosen your lips to gulp another frantic breath around him. And suddenly it hits you, that the sound has changed. His voice is… fuller, and more immediate. Has he taken his helmet off? Some instinct tells you not to call attention to it.

You can definitely hear his breathing more clearly now, and it’s hitching, coming faster and wilder, his body tensing in front of you. His thumb slides along your cheek and you just know that he's looking at you with his own eyes while you work so hard for him, know that that’s what made him tear his helmet off, that he wants to finish while drinking in the sight of this. His cock convulses inside your mouth, and you both make ragged sounds when he pulls himself abruptly out of you.

He’s already starting to spray before he’s left your lips, coating them with his first pump of warm salt. His pleasured groan fills the air and just goes on and on as he works himself through his release, his cum hitting your cheeks, your collarbone, and one shoulder. He finishes by dragging himself across your outthrust tits, making a thorough mess as he rubs his shuddering, finishing cock all over you; and you in your bondage just have to kneel there, exposed, and take it.

One hand is still scooped around the back of your neck. Mando comes down to one knee, steadying you and himself both by leaning his shoulder against yours. You think about how close his face is, and how it must still be bared. You realize you can feel his breath hitting your cheek. You listen to the sound of him pulling himself back together, and feel the movement of air, his air, against the sticky wetness he’s left all over your face and and upper body. You don’t say anything. Any remark that might come out of your smart mouth would only remind him of the distance he’s honor-bound to reassert between you, you’re sure of it.

You feel him shifting, though his one hand stays wrapped around your head, thumb softly stroking the corner of your jaw just in front of your ear. In your darkness and immobility, you try to imagine what’s coming next. Your nipples have gone hard, so hard, and your naked body, dripping with his fluids and your own, is aching to be touched, to be allowed to seek its own release too.

The Mandalorian lets go, leaving you alone in the dark. When he grasps your neck again, his glove is back on it. “Do—do you want to know what I was thinking, earlier, when you asked me?” His voice is gravelly from his orgasm and coldly modulated from the helmet again. You wonder if he even thinks you knew it was off.

You’re about to answer his question, but his other hand cups between your thighs, stroking insistently at your slit, and that one is still bare.

“I was thinking that I wanted to see you just like this, bound on your knees,” two fingers press into you, bold and deep, wasting no time now, “but also roughed up, and crying, covered in my cum.” He whips the blindfold off your head so he can watch your eyes as he finger-fucks up into you, fast and hard, with the heel of his hand grinding into your swollen and needy clit.

You blink under the cold lights of the ship and wonder if he can see the tears that he had, in fact, forced out of you earlier. His beskar face gives you no indication where his gaze might be focused.

His hand returns to the base of your skull, winding into the roots of your hair and controlling the angle of your head again. Still worried you might look down and see his bare hand fucking into you. It’s merciless now, giving you the intensity you had been begging for since he started touching you under the blanket, and then some. You realize he might be hoping to make you cry again, and as his deeply satisfying assault starts to overwhelm you, you realize that it’s working.

“Look at you, you filthy little thing. You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

Stripped, hogtied, covered in his cum and crying over his fingers, you really are in no position to argue with that particular accusation. Your body starts to tense at the very thought, blessed release finally blooming up over you at the thought, just the inkling of the idea that there might be even more filthy things than this that the Mandalorian might want to do to you. Stars, if he gets off on seeing you cry, then what else might he—

Your own orgasm cuts off any other thought, blinding you with a white-hot pleasure that arches your back and sends a shuddering scream through the walls of the Razor Crest that they can probably even hear out in hyperspace. Mando guides you through it, working your body just right to keep the release stretching on and on until you’re sobbing, shuddering, and then he pulls you forward to rest against his armored bulk when you have nothing left to give him.

While you’re busy remembering how to be human, Mando’s arms wrap around you. He holds you up as you tremble and pant through your come-down. “So good,” he’s murmuring. “You did so good for me.”

He strokes your upper back, your arms where they’re tied behind you. He keeps you balanced into his shoulder while he works to get you out of the bondage. You sigh in relief when your feet are released, legs now able to angle out to a position that’s a little less work to keep you upright. You’re almost sad when the loops of cord around your waist let go, however; their snugness had felt like a constant hug supporting you throughout that delicious ordeal.

When your arms are freed, you realize through your swirling bliss how stiff your shoulders had become, an ache already setting in now. Mando seems to have anticipated this, as his hands come up immediately to rub them briskly, helping normal circulation resume. He catches himself in a sudden start, and keeps you held close to his body while he finds his other glove and covers his hand quickly behind your back.

“How do you feel?” He sounds calm again, but his tone is still warmer than you’re used to hearing from him.

You exhale slowly, taking inventory. “Sore,” you admit, then smile against his shoulder, “in all the right ways.” You lift your head from its rest against his pauldron, only to realize the cum left forgotten on your cheek has adhered you to it a bit. “And… filthy.”

“Maybe we should get you into the ‘fresher,” he suggests. “I’ve got enough water for you to take your time in there.”

Meaning he wouldn’t be joining you, as the men you’ve known from trysts like these often do. Another piece of intimacy sacrificed for his creed. Still, you think to yourself as your gaze winds over the angles that form his beskar face, from your position held tenderly in his arms, that doesn’t make this not worth it.

His fingers stroke up and down in front of your ear again. Maybe that’s the only clean part of your face. You give him a contented smile and lean back on your heels.

And promptly wince in pain; the sustained positioning of that bondage has definitely taken a toll on your muscles.

“Move slow,” Mando cautions, and helps steady you as you come stiffly up to your feet.

His hands don’t leave your body as you walk together over toward the ‘fresher. It almost feels like he’s loathe to separate too. Even though all his armor is back on. Even though the tiny measure of allowed physical contact is complete. You kind of assume that once you’re clean, and your clothes are back on, everything will be going back to normal between you two, but something in the grip of his fingers makes you question that.

 When you step out of the most luxurious shower that a former troop transport ship can offer, your clothing is nowhere to be found.

“Feeling refreshed?” Mando asks, watching you in your tiny towel from where he’s seated at the little table that turns one portion of the hold into a galley.

“Very.” You look around pointedly. “Mando, where are my clothes?”

“I want to keep looking at you.” That’s all he has to say for himself. “Can you do that for me?”

You feel heat flushing through your body. Apparently both of you really are going to spend the rest of this flight just horny as fuck. You nod, and unwrap the towel from yourself slowly, wiping off the last bits of moisture but also hoping to give him a little show.

Mando sits back, splaying his arms out, getting comfortable.

You pass the towel over your hair one last time, wondering if you’ll be able to stay warm enough. Though it does feel like he might have adjusted the environmental controls while you were in the ‘fresher. The ambient air seems warmer. Or maybe that’s just your own blood heating up already.

“Now,” Mando says once you’ve set the towel aside, “I think you said something about cleaning the blasters.”

You shoot him a look. “You want me to disassemble and clean out the weapons… naked.”

He just nods.

 It’s hard for you to even remember all of the details from the rest of your time in hyperspace; your brain was so overloaded with the best kinds of chemicals, the overwhelming pleasures and the intensity of the Mandalorian’s dominance and need to get everything he could from you; your sounds, the sight of your skin, the way it marked up when he was feeling cruel and plumped up firm and wanting when he played nice again. Every time you think you recall all of it, another memory hits your mind.

 Climbing naked into his lap, having noticed a smudge on his helmet. Grasping the back of his neck to stabilize him as you polish the beskar, the way he leans into your touch like a happy pup. There’s something wonderful about having an excuse to give so much attention to the only parts of him you will ever get to see. His gloves encase your naked hips as you clean his armor diligently. “A guy could get used to this, don’t you think?” is what you want to say, but you don’t dare.

 That brat instinct taking over your brain again. When he appears not to be paying attention, your naked leg reaches out long and high so your foot can slap him upside the helmet. His arm coming up, lightning fast, locking your leg and swinging you into a takedown on the floor that leaves that foot trapped up high on his shoulder, the rest of your body inescapably open to him. His hand under your jaw as he fucks you into the floor right there; the grip is gentler than the first time, only a token reminder, maybe for you, maybe for himself.

 Jokes that hint there might be a next time, some continuation of these passions into tomorrow, but nothing too explicit. “What I need is one of those posture collars,” you say to him while arched into yet another creative sex position meant to keep your eyes away from his naked cock, “the kind those aristocratic ladies wear on Thespa. They can’t even turn their heads. Those things keep their chins so high they can barely swallow.”

Effortful, pleasure-filled grunting stops long enough for him to quip, “I’m not sure I like the sound of that last part.”

 You're in the cockpit when the ship drops out of hyperdrive above Nevarro. You wanted to have him up here before the journey’s end, to fuck him right in his seat so he’ll think about you the next time he’s “meditating” during flight. It takes two orgasms and a concerted, well-lubricated effort to get him inside you one more time, your pussy so swollen and abused already that it’s a real fight to slide all the way down onto his length. But you want him there, one last time before you arrive at the planet. Before you have to go back to reality, and the complications of the bounty hunting profession.

Your last orgasm feels like it never quite finished, your walls clenching around the solid certainty of his cock buried deep inside, unable to give up their rhythmic spasming against that delicious resistance. The whole core of you thrums like the string of an electroharp, in a note that can’t seem to figure out how to end.

From the tone of the Mandalorian’s groans and the way his hips are now still, you know that he came already too. His gloved hands are spread across your thighs, right where your guns are usually holstered, and they’re the only part of him you can see from where you sit arched on top of his lap, your butt pressing up against his stomach. And you try not to even look at those hands, so as not to make him think you’re sneaking a peek at the root of what’s buried between your thighs.

The stars have stopped streaking. A big gray rock of a planet fills the main viewport now, and you’ve never been less happy to see it. Even if the successful hunt is about to bring you a respectable payday. New lights flash all over the consoles, and all the sounds in the cockpit have changed. Time for the Mandalorian to bring his ship in for a landing.

You tense your muscles to rise up off him but Mando clutches at your waist, urging you not to move, not to withdraw your body from his yet. “No, stay.” You settle back down, holding his softening length inside yourself, even as he’s still whispering “Stay.”

You close your eyes, breathing in deeply and trying to hold on to as much of this moment as you can. Even when he’s not hard he fills you, and that sweet ache of a stretch is wonderful, still. He can’t see how soft your face goes, how weak he’s making you feel, so you let yourself feel it. The sweetness. The soothing comfort of being held from the inside. If only. If only it didn’t have to be over.

That whispered “stay” keeps ringing inside your head as Mando reaches carefully around and above you, flipping switches, punching codes, and programming the descent. From the way his hips roll along with the little movements, you know he’s loving still being inside you while he goes through this routine. But did that one word mean only this, his cock tucked snugly inside your warmth for as long as he could get away with it, or was he trying to say more? He never was much of a talker. Perhaps that simple word was the best he could do, to suggest what he wants from the future.

You shake your head a little at yourself. Call yourself a fool for imagining things. You’d spent nearly half a standard day having some of the hottest sex of your life, that should be enough. You’d always have the memories. You flex your core muscles, grabbing his thick cock a little with your pelvic floor, just to feel him, to remind yourself of the only thing that this was about. Good clean sexual satisfaction. Why bother it with feelings?

A subtle stretch, making you feel impossibly more filled, tells you you’re making him grow harder inside you. Just like that. It feels good but somehow even the pleasure annoys you, makes you feel restless.

There’s one blinking light that Mando’s been ignoring on the console. The screen says a message came in almost as soon as the Crest came out of hyperspace. A message from Greef Karga.

Your sudden irritation compels you to swat at it, causing a little hologram of your boss to appear on the dash. If time is up, then let it be up.

The blueish-gray image lifts both its hands wide. “Mando! I trust that you have brought back my bounties swiftly and without complication, as you always do.” You smirk a little at the ‘without complication’ bit. But since your wild fucking has led to an even fifty-fifty decision on the split, you suppose that Mando really did ensure that your involvement has turned out not to be complicated. No, not complicated in the slightest. “I await your arrival eagerly at the cantina. Meet me there without delay. I have a special assignment for you. Only you.”

The message cuts out, hologram disappearing as quickly as it had arisen. Mando shifts uncomfortably beneath you. He has definitely gone soft.

So he’ll be leaving. Likely almost immediately. And definitely without you. “That’s alright,” you say quickly, trying to keep your voice from sounding as flattened-out as you feel on the inside, “I’ve already accepted a bodyguarding job.” Which is true. “Starts in a few cycles.” Which is less than true. “I’ll go with you to pick up the payment, but I’ve got a lot to do to get ready to fly halfway across the system. I’ll leave you with him so you can talk in private, straight away. No problem.”

You swear he makes a noise, somewhere in there as you babble out your excuses, something that might have signaled an argument, an attempt to not let you brush everything away, revert to professionalism. But nothing comes out of the Mandalorian underneath you but that one, single, half-assed attempt. When you’re done speaking, he doesn’t try again.

 By noon the next day you’re slumped into a booth at the cantina, nursing your fourth spatchka. And definitely not pouting. Not daydreaming, not ruminating, not playing the flight on the Razor Crest back in your head like a private porno film, and definitely not wondering under what circumstances you might run into Mando next. Just…killing time. Planning your next move. Yeah, that’s it.

You squint and blink when a tall drink of beskar climbs into the seat across from you. “That can’t be Mando,” you say, eyes flitting around the mostly-empty joint to check if anyone else is seeing this. Karga’s not yet at his table; in fact it’s too early for any of the regulars. They’re going to think you’re making this up.

The mask before you just tilts to the side.

“You don’t drink after jobs.”

He throws one arm up on the backrest. “I don’t drink.”

Your face screws up. “Really?”

“But someone once told me I should loosen up.” He looks around the patron-less cantina. “So this is how you spend your time.”

“No,” you say, “I just,” you look down into your drink, but there’s no excuse to be found there. So you opt to take another sip rather than finishing that sentence.

“I thought you said you’d be busy prepping for your next job.”

“And I thought you were on some secret assignment for Golden Boys only.” Guess Mando’s finding out right now that spatchka makes you petty.

He shakes his head a little at you. “Karga did give me a rather interesting assignment.” He leans his forearm on the table, fingers rubbing absently against each other. “That bodyguard job you mentioned. It taking you anywhere close to Honfa?”

You try to play it coy, though your heart just started beating twice as fast. “What would it mean to you if it did?”

Those fingers continue to circle each other. “Thinking I might need a little backup. Could be a security system I’m not confident I can handle.”

You blink at him, forcing yourself not to grin. “I thought he said the job was only for you.”

Mando leans back, both pauldrons lifting in an extended, elegant shrug. “If I want to hire a subcontractor, that’s my business.”

“SUB-contractor?” you shout, splashing a little of your drink as you straighten up in indignation. “I run again with you, Mando, I do it as an equal partner.”

He’s got to have a shit-eating grin spreading under that helmet. He just has to. “We’ll just have to settle this same as last time. We can negotiate the split on the way.”

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[vampiresuns]

This Is How We Say Goodbye (Song To The Open Road) | Asra x Milenko

☽ THIS IS HOW WE SAY GOODBYE (SONG TO THE OPEN ROAD) ☽

1.9k words. Written for Asra Week, day 6: Promise. In which the Plague ravages Vesuvia, there’s an argument and Asra and Milenko part ways.

You can catch up with Milasra’s pre-game canon, ‘Like Thirst Holds Water’, here.

When Anatole and Milenko got involved, Asra and Amparo were already fighting. 

Their relationship had always been peculiar. More than friends, they were sometimes mirrors, matchstick and friction, cause and reaction. While Milenko was the one Asra had fallen in love with, and Anatole the one who he rode and died for, Amparo tended to spring Asra into motion. Both of them did things in almost identical ways — Asra’s sun sign was Amparo’s moon sign, her rising sign, his moon. As such, they gave the idea of instant compenetration, of unspoken frequencies vibrating in the same way. 

Amparo, the animancer, the actress, the dancer, the impersonator imbued in Asra something the others could not quite describe. That was Amparo’s charm, after all, that pizzaz that made her no one other than La Cassano. 

In that way, they shouldn’t have been surprised they would butt heads this way. They shouldn’t have been surprised that nothing could deescalate the fight either. Everyone was tired, everyone was grieving. The City was ridden with the Plague, there were no answers and no solutions offered, and for the first time in the almost 20 years Lucio had ruled the inevitable had happened: the Council of Vesuvia wasn’t enough, and now it was too late for them to remove Lucio from power by declaring him unfit to rule. The mechanisms would not work, the tissue of the Court was almost entirely destroyed, and the people were ill and needed food, clean water and doctors.

Their families had decided to all ride this out together in the Palazzo, with the proper health regulations that they could adopt. The building could house them all without problem but more importantly, it would mean they would be together. Many things were said about them, like how nothing mortal could kill them, based on an old, old story of how the Consul’s office had become theirs. It was no less true that the Radošević-Cassano did not survive alone. 

So they grouped, they went back home, and with their location inside the walls of the infamous Palazzo Cassano, they took in their closest friends. Their families had begun as friends, marrying between each other was recent, and only a kink of some very specific sets of family members. To them, family wasn’t blood, family was a choice. 

They had asked Asra to move in with them, and with that, to relocate Muriel, no one had to know he was in the Palazzo with them, specially not the Count. Asra, however, wanted to leave, and he wanted to convince Amparo, Anatole and Milenko to go with him, so they all would take their stuff and go, and abandon Vesuvia — a City that had never done anything for any of them. There was no point in dying in it, let alone for it. 

Naturally, the proposal turned into an argument. Amparo especially would not leave her mother and parent, Amparo would not leave Anzano, their grandparent, as she knew they would not leave Vesuvia. Anzano was old, very old, but still fit for travel; however, they had once been the High Priest of the Sun and had trained the new one, just like their spouse Atilia Cassano, had been the High Priest of the Moon. They wouldn’t leave a City they felt a sense of responsibility towards, and Amparo herself would not desert her family when they needed her.

Milenko had a similar idea. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave when he could help, he couldn’t leave when his mothers would not go, when his grandfather would not go, when his cousins would not go. Unlike Amparo he had no will to argue with Asra, instead, with the help of Anatole they tried to calm it down, so Asra could see where they were coming from, and they could try and answer Asra’s concerns.

It didn’t work. Everyone was strung, stressed and grieving, so it was a matter of time before one of them said the wrong thing, at the wrong time, with whoever the comment had been directed at not wanting to be understanding about it. It was a matter of time before they were all arguing in the ground floor of the Moonstone and Jasmine, all of Asra’s things packed up as he said he was not staying to die in a City like Vesuvia and how anyone with half a mind would do the same. 

Milenko saw the point of no return happen in slow motion: Asra’s words collided with nothing other than the behemoth that was the Cassano’s sense of pride. Whatever they had begun, it could not be stopped now. 

A lot of accusations flew around. Amparo tried to tell Asra that he couldn’t just expect her to leave the City she had always lived in, the City that she hoped to die in at old age. Asra told her what did she know about losing homes, she who had been born in the Heart District with a silver spoon on her mouth, who had never had to struggle because she always had a roof above her head. Funnily enough, Amparo’s patience ran out when he told her that she couldn’t even cook for herself. 

“Do whatever you want. I’m not leaving. If that’s all you think of me, then forget we were ever friends Asra.” 

She disappeared into the upstairs of the shop, into its main living quarters. 

“Asra, that’s not fair,” Milenko said. His tone was critical, but he still tried to stay as calm as possible. Maybe if Asra could see that he really would be safe—

Then Anatole spoke, his anger raw, yet cold and precise, like a well practiced fencing blow: “What the fuck is wrong with you. If we were a bunch of superior assholes who did everything for our own benefit—”

Asra snapped. “No, but you sure think you’ll save Vesuvia from Lucio just from existing, as if anyone in this city would ever care if you lived or died, Anatole. That’s what you do, don’t you? Pretend like you can fix his mistakes while everyone else suffers from them.”

The silence that fell between the three of them was abrupt, soon ringing in their ears, but when Asra tried to apologise, noticing he had said the wrong thing, it was too late. 

Anatole looked like he had been slapped.

“Toly?” Milenko asked, moving closer to his cousin to squeeze his shoulder, wanting to make sure he was okay. Asra’s words had hit one of Anatole’s greatest fears: that no matter how hard he tried, it’d never be enough. 

Before he could reach Anatole, his cousin’s face changed. As his features shifted with anger, Anatole spoke again. 

Now he was truly and really angry. “You meant that.” 

The issue with words was you couldn’t take them back once you said them. All you could do is hope the other person would forgive you and understand if you had misspoken. As Milenko was once again caught between Asra and Anatole arguing, he realised this was one thing Anatole might never forgive. He doubted it was his place to say, yet Milenko didn’t know if he could even advocate for Anatole forgiving Asra’s words, with time.

The issue wasn’t about who was right or wrong. There was no right or wrong, there was no miraculous answer in this unsalvageable situation. It was that Asra had meant it. Part of Anatole’s language magic was this: he was able to read feelings and intentions in spoken words. As a language manipulator, he could tell everything which people (intentionally or otherwise) imbued into words when they spoke, even if he couldn’t tell the why or the how. 

Would he be able to carry on if he could feel that after years of showing honesty and vulnerability because you want the other person to know you, this was what they thought at their worst? 

The argument didn’t last much longer. Anatole, not wanting to speak, went upstairs to check on Amparo, while Milenko and Asra stood alone on the ground floor of the shop. 

The magician began taking his things, preparing himself to leave for real. Milenko followed him, standing outside of the backdoor as he looked at Asra adjusting his travelling coat. Amparo has gotten it for him. It was handmade, Amparo’s gift to Asra two birthdays ago. 

“Aren’t you going to say farewell?” 

Asra startled, not expecting Milenko standing there. “I thought there was nothing else to say.” 

Once again they stood in silence. It felt like forever, even if it was probably just a couple of seconds. They were aware of every moment they lost to silence, looking at each other under the Vesuvian sunset. They felt far away, miles away. 

It hurt to realise, more than Milenko was willing to admit, but Anatole had been right: he still remembered when they were arguing about Asra not asking for help about Muriel. They could be as open as they wanted with Asra, but Asra would never step in time with them, even if he wanted to. 

Who better than Milenko to know this, and to know that sometimes, it was through no fault of his own. 

Asra spoke first. “You think I’m making the wrong choice.” 

Milenko pressed his lips together. “I don’t think there’s a right choice. There’s just the best we can do with the options we’re given.” 

“You don’t think I could do better with mine?”

“I don’t know, beloved, could you?” 

“Don’t— don’t call me that.” 

“I’m sorry. Force of habit.” 

“I forgive you,” Asra said, shifting his weight between his feet. He wanted to say something else, yet he said nothing. 

“Asra. I’m not judging you. I already told you I am no one to judge.” 

“How can you say that to me at a time like this?” 

“What? It’s the truth. I don’t like that you’re leaving and I would never make the choices you are making, and I could give you a piece of my mind and point fingers at you. I am angry, I’m hurt, but nothing I accuse you of will make me feel better. Judging you will not make me feel better, so I won’t. I’ve never done.” 

“Sometimes,” Asra said, dislodging his travel bag from his shoulder, “sometimes I wish you did. It would make leaving easier.” 

To Milenko’s surprise, Asra crossed the distance between them. Milenko didn’t stop his hand from cupping Asra’s cheek. Asra leaned against it, even if he wished he hadn’t. Asra closed his eyes, tears coming through his closed eyelids.

“You know I won’t ask you to stay,” Milenko said, getting teary himself. 

“Just like I know I won’t get you to leave.” 

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, Asra. Promise me that at the very least, you’ll try to take good care of yourself.” 

Asra opened his eyes, his vision blurred because of the tears. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, letting Faust slither into his arm to stretch herself all the way to say goodbye to Milenko.

Her tongue flicked against his nose, making Asra smile. 

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself too, please.”

Milenko nodded, Asra saying his farewells before turning around and walking away as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Milenko watched him go, until Ursula, his familiar, nudged him inside. 

“May Allah keep you safe, Habibi,” he said to the empty street before closing the door behind him. 

[fishybehavior]

Can you continue the robot ninjas fic thingy, plz

well, I’ve been having ideas about when Kai woke up. . .

---

His reboot, that should have been taken slow as all of his systems recalibrated, wasn’t. He was being pulled from his unit, stumbling as his servos hadn’t unlocked yet. Pulled along and practically carried as he was rushed from wherever he was being stored, the warehouse opening as he was dragged into the city. The loud, bright city overloading his sensors, until he was moved into a dark vehicle and moving before he could orientate himself.

He watched as they where speeding along, the tires squealing as they made turns at high velocity than recommended. At this point K-17′s auditory out put finally came online, “What's happening? Doctor?” He asked, Dr. Julien turning around in the passenger seat to address him. 

“There’s been an emergency, Ray is dead.”

“Who is-

“The elemental master of fire!” He cut off harshly, stress evident on his face. “I hadn’t finished the chrono-steel heart that I designed for his element. You are the only free chrono-steel I have.”

K-17′s mind rushed at this information, not noticing that they had stopped until he jerked from the car, pulled quickly into a large building he recognized as a hospital. Yanked through the corridors and hallways, he was rushed to a small room, a man who was horribly disfigured laying in a bed. A woman and two small children sat in the corner crying, and old man stood with them comfortingly. As he was brought into the room, the woman stumbled over to them. Grief evident on her face.

“Are you sure you don't want one of your children to take the element?” Dr. Julien whispered.

The woman suppressed a sob, “This is what he wanted, what we wanted. These powers seem more like a curse than a blessing. They deserve to be normal children.” She replied gesturing to her children in the corner, fear, exhaustion and grief filled their small faces.

Dr. Julien nodded in understanding. “Very well. K-17, activate retrieval protocol.”

Immediately he moved, the procedure protocols emerging at the command. Placing his  hand on the mans chest he activated the secondary process of his chrono-steel power source. It started to hum and vibrate, trying to match the frequency of the mans elemental power. Once the frequency was match and the two energies harmonized, his power source flared as it increased its intensity slightly until he felt the element dislodge from the man, energy condensing as it started to twine up his arm, almost like a serpent. Slowly crawling up him, it passed through his paneling, winding around his core, his own energy flaring as the two merged. Letting the element settle the two energies became one as the element of fire intertwined with him. He felt the heat of the room increase and flare as it completed the process.

And just as he finished he was pulled from the room, Dr. Julien and the old man talked to each other quietly as they left the family to mourn.

"I'm taking them back with me, you agreed that I'd oversee them after they have been endowed with their powers." The older man quietly argued with the doctor. K-17 followed behind them as they walked down the hallway.'

"I did, say that, but its not finished. Its my prototype, its not designed to hold any element. Let me keep them, I should finish my designed android in six months, I'll move the power source over and then you can have that android." Dr. Julien hissed back as they entered the elevator.

"You don't have the means to take care of them, especially if they lose control-"

"It won't loose control."

"You said that about the first one." The old man returned. The two falling into a tense silence, as the elevator stopped and they continued to walk out of the hospital.

"Fine," Dr. Julien sighed, "But it cannot train to use its power, it's not built to take the heat of fire. It'll overheat, and I cant have that core damaged." Dr. Julien turned back to K-17, "You will be going with Wu, do whatever he says. I'll return for you as soon as I can, you cannot allow your core to be damaged. Understand?"

K-17 nodded in agreement, "Of course." And he followed the old man, Wu, getting into his vehicle. And finally had the time to fully process what just happened, as the car moved towards its destination.

He went from shut down, to holding the element of fire within 46 minutes and 17 seconds. Looking at the car dash, he registered the time was 2:13 pm. Finding a street sign he saw that they where on a side street quickly leaving Ninjago city. He looked to Wu, who hasn't said a word to him, wondering if he was allowed to speak to him or if he just wanted silence. He wanted to speak, wanted to ask, he was full of questions. Who was that woman? Where were they going? When would the doctor come back for him? How much time had past? What was he supposed to do now?

"I see that you are confused," Wu suddenly broke the silence, his voice warm and inviting. "Please, let me answer any questions you may have."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Wu, I'm keep track of everyone who has elemental powers, and you are my newest charge."

Newest charge? What an odd phrase for K-17 to assign oneself, he was used to being watched over, but the warm tone made it seem more personal than tests and experiments. "Where are we going?"

"To my monastery. Its a place removed from society, the perfect place to train and center oneself."

K-17 hummed in false understanding, he has no basis for training nor centering oneself. Dismissing the information he move to a question he was afraid of. "What year is it?"

"Well its 20XX, though its rather interesting that-"

K-17 stopped listening, processing as he updated his internal clock. Skipping over 10 years as he corrected the date. He stared at the number in his internal monitor. 10 years. The most he'd been out was 10 months, and he hated that, after waking up then he was shocked at how outdated he seemed to be, along with the rust that he found had started to crop up on his shiny silver surface. Reminding him of the disuse, the time, the lack of care he was given.

Looking down for the first time he registered the state of his body. Trembling as he saw he was completely rusted, the white clothes he was wearing had been stained a tie dye of yellows, oranges, and reds. They shiny silver that he would spend hours to polish and keep clean when he was activated was gone. Covered in corrosion and oxidation, the body he knew was gone. Trembling he pulled down the visor to look at the mirror, shaking as he saw his face was covered in the same ugly stains, even his hair was filthy, hanging limply weighed down by the dust grease and rust that clung to the fibers.

"Are you ok? K-17?" The voice of the old man came through concerned as he tried to stop shaking. He couldn't turn away from the tiny reflection, the evidence of the years, his inactivity, the years of carelessness as he was in that unit unwanted for a decade.

"Of course, nothing is wrong." K-17 forced himself to answer, closing the visor, his corroded reflection disappearing, but the image still burned in his processors.

"Its nothing."