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lilover131 · 3 years

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Syaoran and Kaito Analysis

So I’ve mentioned recently in a recent fanart and in my analysis of chapter 55, but I have noticed quite a few similarities between Syaoran and Kaito, and upon some observations, I have some theories, particularly in regards to how Kaito views Syaoran. I decided to delve into that a bit, so see under the cut for more! Warning: It’s long. I wrote a lot. >.<

I have a lot to cover, so I thought it might be best to outline in the most simple way possible some things we already know about Kaito.

· He was born gifted with incredible magic. His parentage is unknown and he was “alone for as long as he could remember”.

· It’s unclear where Kaito originated from, but it seems he spent a majority of his life in England.

· He has moon based magic and has a wide variety of talents, but specializes in time magic. It’s unclear if he already had a skill with time magic or if this was obtained after he met Momo. It seems implied that he made a magical contract with her and maybe gained his time abilities from this. But we do know he has the ability to fly, to locate objects, teleport, to talk to animals, and to make something vanish in a mere moment.

· He is also talented in housekeeping skills, such as sewing, cooking, etc.

· He used to be very cold hearted and preferred spending time alone. Kaito changed considerably in personality at some point in his life. It is uncertain exactly what caused this change, but it seems likely that Akiho’s mother was the catalyst for this.

· He is part of a very powerful group of magicians called as we know it ‘The Association’ and is revered as one of its most powerful with the title ‘D’. He recently betrayed them and left, taking Akiho with him.

· He protects and seems to care for Akiho

· He is preparing for an event labeled as “that time” and needs Sakura to create a specific card.

· He is putting himself in extreme physical danger for his goals, seemingly for Akiho’s sake.

· He has been noted as always smiling to ‘hide his pain’.

So when I look at all of these facts about Kaito, I noticed something interesting. Syaoran too could be described by almost all of these things. You might think “Wait a minute Chrissy! Kaito and Syaoran are nothing alike!”, but please hear me out.

Syaoran too was born gifted with incredible magic. He also draws his power from the moon (a connection that has already been pointed out by CLAMP) and has a knack for household skills as well, being very independent from a young age. Like Kaito, he was cold hearted in his earlier years, preferred to be alone (according to Meiling in the original 90’s anime in episode 43), and had a drastic change in personality later on, particularly after meeting Sakura. Syaoran is part of a very powerful group of magicians as well, the Li clan, and is one of the strongest within it and destined to be the next leader. Similarly, Syaoran too is preparing for some kind of event, a future seen by his mother, and is doing everything to prevent this, even if it causes him physical harm (as we’ve seen with him struggling to conjure the Sakura cards). In order to keep Sakura in the dark as to not worry her, he has been using a smile to ‘hide his pain’.

Now you may be wondering “Okay, so they have a few things in common, but they are still completely different!”. And you would be right. They are two completely different people after all, but try to think of them as two sides of the same coin. This beckons another question: How did two people who are so similar turn out so differently?

This is really where their differences in personality shine through, but part of it I believe is due to their backgrounds as well. For example, Kaito was picked up by the Association at a young age due to his skills with magic and was taken in to “use that magical power to accomplish their own tasks”. Based on their record of not having a great reputation, according to Eriol, and their treatment of Akiho by assisting her Clan in turning her into a magical device, it seems likely that Kaito was not treated kindly by anyone in the Association. In fact, he was probably left alone nearly all of the time unless his strengths were needed, and took care of himself in the remainder of that time. He was surrounded by people but still completely alone, and he preferred to be this way. This cold background of his really prevented him from being able to open up his heart to anyone. But he does seem to be much different around Akiho.

Syaoran, on the other hand, was surrounded by loving and caring family members. Although he preferred to be alone in his earlier years, he wasn’t actually alone at all. His mother was protective of him (like cutting his hair until he was strong enough to protect himself from things like scissors near his neck), and his sisters adored him and undoubtedly showered him with love at every opportunity. But even with that love from them, he was still somewhat cold hearted (though not as much as Kaito) until he met Sakura.

Their backgrounds do differ from each other, but I think the biggest difference in them of all is how they handle their feelings. When Syaoran first started to realize his feelings for Sakura, he struggled quite a bit and was in a great amount of denial, even physically running away at times when confronted with them. It was when he finally came to terms with his heart and confessed his feelings to Sakura that he underwent a great change and became the Syaoran we know today.

So what about Kaito?

Well, Kaito I believe is in that same stage of denial where he is refusing to come to terms with his feelings, whatever those may be. It’s clear that he cares about Akiho, but when she or Momo try to have a serious discussion with him or get him to talk about those feelings, he goes out of his way to change the subject (or once with Momo, actually fled at the first opportunity, which is just like Syaoran used to do!). It is something he is clearly uncomfortable with, and I think that is because it is unfamiliar territory for him. He is used to not feeling anything at all, so having to actually think about his feelings and reasons for doing things is unbearably frightening. He can handle any magical opponent any day (except Sakura of course), but being open and honest about his feelings? That’s another battle entirely that he doesn’t know how to handle without his magic to use as a crutch.

Momo mentioned in chapter 39 how Kaito had made a great deal of changes, all so that Akiho could live comfortably and pleaded internally “peer deep inside your heart. And don’t avert your eyes”. This was said again in chapter 51 when she stated “I implore you Yuna D. Kaito. Listen…to your heart”.

In the very next chapter, it is none other than Syaoran who has a discussion with Sakura about how his mother had told him “If you possess great magic power…when you feel pounding and stirring in your chest…you shouldn’t ignore it. You need to listen to your intuition. I think that goes for everyone, magic or no magic. I don’t think anyone should turn a blind eye to their own heart”. We also know that in that same conversation with his mother, thanks to the mini chapter provided with the special edition of volume 9, that Yelan said to him then “If there’s something you want to accomplish, then training with your spells is surely important, but...more than anything else, you have to face your heart”. She went on to tell him how important it was to listen to his heart and that “If you lie to yourself, you will sadden the person who loves you so dearly”.

And that, my friends, is the major reason for Syaoran and Kaito being so different despite their many similarities. One listens to his heart while the other adamantly turns away from it. This leads me to my next topic (thank you for anyone who has read this long into it. I appreciate it!), and that is in regards to Kaito’s feelings about Syaoran.

I have noticed that Kaito in general tends to act quite differently in regards to Syaoran than he does anyone else. It starts at the very first time they met, when they made their introductions. Despite working so diligently to keep himself hidden from Akiho and Sakura, he did the complete opposite with Syaoran. He had to have known that being able to sense his magic and being given his name and title, that Syaoran would go and research who he was. He wanted Syaoran in particular to know who he was, which I believe is also why he allowed him to speak with Eriol initially. I say allowed, because we know he clearly had the potential to cut off communications at any point in time, and he only stepped in to shut this down when Eriol started talking to the others (Kero and Yue). He clearly wanted to control what information people knew about him, and Eriol crossed a line. He also put spells on Syaoran that would not allow him to communicate with others about him, so again showing he wanted him to know about him, but not to be able to tell anyone else about him, especially Sakura.

Another occasion I found intriguing was chapter 34 in the scene with the pool. Kaito stopped time, but for some reason, allowed Syaoran to move freely as well. Why is this? He could have easily frozen Syaoran too, but he made a conscious decision to allow Syaoran to move.

Then we come to perhaps the most telling scene so far, which is the battle he and Syaoran had in chapter 41 and 42. In a moment where he could have easily stopped time and rewound so that Syaoran never approached him, he instead decided to have a full discussion with him and even go as far as to engage in battle with him in stopped time. In this ‘discussion’, he stated several facts that he knew about Syaoran, who was pointedly not responding to them and seemed solely focused on Sakura. Some of the details about him were probably common knowledge to the magical world, but some of them seemed oddly personal, such as him being a ‘diligent student’, as if to show he had been watching him for quite some time.

Something about the interaction was different than others. It was as if he was observing Syaoran in that moment to see how he would react to hearing certain things. He then mentioned after seeing Syaoran use the Sakura cards how rewriting a contract once written takes a toll on even the strongest magician and he said “Is this all…for Sakura too?”. I think what he was trying to say here is that he recognizes the efforts he’s making for Sakura and may even feel a connection to him because of his own efforts for his own wish.

In chapter 42, continuing on with this conversation, Kaito seemed ready to turn back time the moment he realized they were no longer alone and that Sakura was able to move, but he still had more to say. Syaoran reacted to Sakura calling out for him, and it was at this moment that Kaito said “You certainly are honest, aren’t you? One look at your face, and I know exactly what you’re thinking” (even Eriol made several comments about Syaoran’s honesty in the original series). Once again, he’s showing here that he’s observing Syaoran, but why? For what reason does he bring this up? I think he says this because it is something so foreign to him and fascinates him. Kaito is so used to hiding his feelings and being unable to express them, but Syaoran is the complete opposite in the fact that he can so easily show his feelings and it is not his nature to conceal them. Kaito followed this by bringing up that Syaoran had suppressed that honesty when he came to Japan, which we know was through his fake smiles (something he is all too familiar with). Yue also said to Syaoran in chapter 27 that he had been hiding behind a smile and ordinarily was much more unrestrained in how he expressed his emotions, no matter what that emotion may be.

I wonder if Kaito said this because he wondered “how is it that he’s able to be so honest?” or maybe he was trying to show that he understood his reasons for hiding behind a smile, pointing out the similarities between them; that they were not so different despite having different goals. Kaito’s next comment in particular is probably what caught my attention the most. He divulged the detail about how Syaoran suppressed his honesty particularly to try and prevent the future that his mother saw. Even Syaoran seemed surprised by this, and he had good reason to be! This was likely a very personal moment, one he hasn’t even told Sakura about yet, and this implies that he might have been there when this particular moment happened. It makes sense too, considering Akiho had stated in her very first appearance that she was in Hong Kong just before coming to Japan, meaning she and Kaito were certainly there at the same time Syaoran was, at least for a brief time. This means he probably saw all the effort he was putting in for Sakura’s sake and maybe this resonated with him. I think maybe he also saw how his older sisters, even though they had no magic of their own, are treated with respect in the Li clan, unlike Akiho with her own. Kaito has only ever known a world where those who are strong are used and those who are weak are deemed worthless (like Akiho), but yet Syaoran lives in a world where both live harmoniously. Sakura’s world in Tomoeda is the same as well and filled with kindness, far different from any other experience Kaito has had, and this must have been quite the culture shock! But more importantly, Syaoran and Sakura have all the things that he and Akiho never had.

Another interesting thing to note here is that Kaito was supposedly expelled from the association about a year ago due to stealing a powerful magical instrument that was forbidden to be taken (which we now know to be Akiho herself). And guess what else happened about a year ago? About a year ago, Syaoran went back to Hong Kong to handle his ‘important things’. Coincidence? Well, famously CLAMP series often say there is no such thing as coincidence...only hitsuzen.

Just as he is about to send another attack at Syaoran, he talks about how he and Syaoran both do not have the power of divination, but that “it is for the strong to decide…what the future holds in store for us all”. I think what he meant here is “Neither of us know how this is going to turn out, but the both of us are working hard for our own goals, so may the best man win”. However, before he could go any further, Sakura used TRANSFER to switch places, and he is both surprised by this, but quite quickly decides to end things and rewind time at this moment, indicating that he had not really wanted to engage with Sakura at all at this point in time. He had even stated at the beginning of chapter 42 that he had intended to keep her frozen and only have Syaoran able to move, meaning this whole situation had only been kept going for this long so that he could talk to Syaoran.

After rewinding time and talking to Akiho later that evening, he mentioned how Parent’s day was “quite illuminating”. This could have been said about his newfound knowledge of Fujitaka, but I also believe he learned quite a bit from Syaoran as well.

Now we finally get to the more recent chapters, like 54 and 55. While sitting together at the botanical garden, Kaito puts yet another spell on Syaoran to force him to smile against his will to avoid any suspicion. I feel like this was not just to keep the peace but also somewhat of a way to toy with and tease Syaoran. What better way to get under the skin of someone so honest and open with their feelings than to force them to hide these under a smile unwillingly? I think this was the mischievous side of Kaito showing and almost like a big brother teasing a little brother, but unfortunately for him, he pushed things too far with this, and not only did Sakura notice something was wrong, but this allowed the spell to be broken, and Syaoran wasted absolutely zero time saying the things he had been suppressed in saying before.

Cue to chapter 55, our most recent chapter. Sakura has managed to keep herself from being frozen in time, and she starts off with a few basic questions. The first one was if he knew about her being able to use cards. Kaito answered simply “Yes”. But when asked about if he knew about Syaoran, he gave two very specific details about him, particularly that he knew he was a gifted sorcerer and that he was the next head of the Li clan”. He could have just answered yes, the same way he responded in regards to Sakura, but instead he seems to have wanted Sakura to know in that moment that he knows a lot of information about Syaoran and not just that he can use magic. The two then exchange meaningful looks, and it’s right after this that she looks over to Syaoran and Akiho, looking almost worried. Now, it’s not clear what they were both thinking in this moment, and it’s possible that I am overthinking this one, but I find it fascinating that his answer was so detailed here, and I don’t feel like that was for nothing. Ohkawa has always been very thoughtful about the words she writes in her scripts, and I think this is no exception.

Anyways, I feel like we’ll get more definitive answers in the future, but I’m incredibly intrigued to see if there are any further and more concrete connections between them. I feel like CLAMP has done quite a bit to point out similarities between the two, and it should be a wild ride from here on out!!

#cardcaptor sakura #clear card #alaysis #syaoran #kaito #clamp #spoiler #chrissy talks a lot #this was a long one

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sylvie--laufeydottir · 3 years

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an obligatory analysis of sylvie’s character (aka: who betrayed who?)

in case you can’t tell, i like sylvie. but here’s a big fuckin post where i share my thoughts on her role in the finale in a sort of disjointed kind of way.

NOTE: this isn’t about sylki. i don’t ship it personally, but that isn’t really relevant to this at all. this also doesn’t go into the criticisms i have of the show because this isn’t really the place for that. maybe i can do that later, whatever.

also, this is gonna be a long post. i have a lot of thoughts.

sylvie’s introduction and motivations

one of the first things we learn about sylvie is her opposition to the tva. (okay, it’s literally the first thing, whatever.) in episode 3, we get to see her entire plan - overthrow whoever’s running the tva, and... that’s it. loki questions her about the power vacuum that would leave, to which she shows that she’s not interested in running the tva. (this is also stated in ep 2.) her goals are clear. she wants rid of the entire organisation, and doesn’t care about or want the sort of power that would come with pulling the strings.

her reasoning for this seems pretty simple. she doesn’t want the power ruling the tva would entail because she knows what it’s like to be on the other end of that deal. she had everything taken from her as a child, and doesn’t want that to happen to anybody else. she believes that that kind of power belongs to nobody, not even herself.

this easily establishes her as a character who, despite having an ego, has principles that trump everything else. she’s very dedicated to her cause; the ‘never at the expense of the mission’ line in ep 3 just states it out loud. her entire life has been dedicated to this cause. this is a good time to segue into the next section...

sylvie’s personality, character and flaws

she’s fuckin stabby.

despite only really being present for 4 out of the 6 episodes of the show, we manage to get a pretty good idea of sylvie’s personality right from the start thanks to episode 3 being largely a character study with both her and loki. she’s shown as a very competent and strong character - however, contrary to marvel’s guidebook on writing female characters, those aren’t personality traits. what we actually see of her is that she’s very confident, and has a tendency to be rude or dismissive of other people. episode 3 has a bunch of examples of this, but the easiest one to point to is the fireworks scene. after loki does something nice to cheer her up, something which visibly works, her response is to waive it away as ‘not bad’.

her coldness in this scene even after bonding with loki is likely due to her upbringing. sylvie spent the majority of her life, including her childhood, on the run, unable to form relationships with people who weren’t moments away from dying. it feels a bit redundant for me to point this out, but this is, as they say in the medical field, mega fucking traumatic. not only did sylvie not have the opportunity to form these kinds of connections, she couldn’t even develop the ability to form them. loki is a bandaid to cover a bullet hole in this regard, one she needs years to heal from. while she does bond with him to an extent, she is physically unable to trust him to the point where they can be considered close.

another thing we learn about sylvie is that she’s very violent - and that she enjoys it. being a character that grew up running from an organisation that wanted her dead, it makes sense for her first instinct to be confrontational. however, despite having to fight to survive, she visibly takes pleasure from fighting. this was brought up in an interview with sophia (that i am not going to link here, because tumblr is kind of a hellsite and i’m not in the mood for that today). here’s a nice extract instead.

“She's not trained like Loki is,” Di Martino continues. “She can't do some of the flourishes that he would, but she's figured out how to brawl. She's a street fighter and she loves it. That was a really great key to unlocking part of Sylvie for me, was how much she just loves a fight. She knows that she's either going to win, or if she isn't going to win, she'll survive. She's that damaged character who's dangerous because she knows she can survive.”

her tendency towards violence is actually a key part of sylvie’s character. this works as both a strength and a flaw. on the one hand, she’s able to survive scrapes most other characters wouldn’t, and she knows that. she’s not one to freeze in most (note: most) scenarios, because she knows what to expect. on the other hand, violence isn’t always the answer, and she’s very unlikely to consider any other option than a fight.

her enchantment abilities tie into this - they’re another weapon for her to use, and one she’s not afraid to call on. however, her eagerness to enchant people without hesitation puts her in a pretty bad place morally. her enchantment clearly leaves hunter c-20 traumatised, and yet she’s more than willing to enchant people for the sake of the mission. she’s also relatively dismissive of human sentient lives. an early example of this is in episode 2, where loki asks her if the person she had enchanted was dead, to which she responds with a casual ‘they usually survive’. additionally, she’s more than willing to fight the guards on the train in episode 3, despite them seeing her as a threat for completely understandable reasons.

in the case of the guards, her reasoning for placing such little value on their lives is likely that they’re about to die anyways. everyone on lamentis is doomed, so from her point of view, whether they die at her hands or at the hands of the moon from majora’s mask isn’t really important. however, c-20 is a different story. sylvie places next to no value on the lives of the tva’s workers, content to slaughter them en masse for the sake of her goal. this is despite her knowing that every one of the tva workers is a variant plucked from the sacred timeline. this sets up a weird sort of transactional nature in how sylvie views other people - to her, they’re less important than the mission, and she doesn’t hesitate to eliminate threats.

was this a long section? this was a long section. i would like to call back to the fact that this is not a sylki post for this next part. and also to praise anyone that got this far, because fucking hell, is this excessively long or what? who would have the time to write this out?

sylvie’s bond with loki

i want to go back to that whole thing about her relationship with loki. he’s the first person she’s really spoken to since she was a child who isn’t about to face imminent death. furthermore, despite their differences, they have quite a lot in common - enough to hit it off surprising well for two people who kind of want to kill each other. they’re able to relate on common ground like frigga, and even though they clash due to loki’s initial carelessness, they’re overall able to get along well enough aside from occasional bickering. the blanket scene from episode 5 is probably the best example of this. sylvie allows herself, albeit briefly, to be vulnerable around loki.

except, not really. one of the first things she does is tries to ensure he won’t betray her. i’ve seen somebody cite this before as proof that her fondness towards him isn’t real, and that she was planning on betraying him from the start, hence why it was on her mind. that’s definitely possible, but i think it’s far more likely that it’s just her difficulties connecting to people stopping her from feeling safe around him even as they share a nice moment. she really does seem to care about loki - an easy example of this is her asking how he is during episode 4 without being prompted. she’s just unable to properly process these kinds of feelings due to an incomprehensible amount of trauma. as loki puts it, she can’t trust.

and loki can’t be trusted. she knows - or at least, thinks she knows - his nature as a trickster and a villain. loki embodies a part of sylvie that she considers herself completely separate from; the tva-approved liar whose purpose is to bring out the best in others. while she does show him more decency than to treat him like that, at the end of the day, he represents something that makes her deeply uncomfortable, hence her rejection of the loki name. despite what they have in common, loki is an incredibly difficult person to trust, especially for somebody who has deep-rooted trust issues. so, this brings us onto...

who betrayed who?

so, sylvie and loki make it to kang’s castle. after all this time, she’s finally about to reach her life’s goal. she’s clearly nervous - this is out of her comfort zone, unlike most fights. loki reassures her, and they head in. they meet kang, learn the true nature of the tva, have the opportunity to kill him...

and loki stops her.

loki’s motivations are left ambiguous. the uncharitable interpretation is that he wants to rule the tva for himself, as per kang’s offer. he’s expressed such an interest to sylvie before. for the loki we know in avengers 1, this seems perfectly in character.

however, for the loki we’ve seen in the show, there’s a different option. he believes kang’s threat that there are multiple of him, and that killing him won’t solve anything. to him, he isn’t willing to risk unknown horrors for the sake of taking his revenge out on kang. this is the loki who offered diplomacy and guile to counteract sylvie’s brute force.

but sylvie, who can’t trust, assumes the worst.

to her, loki was the one who betrayed her. they had a plan - find whoever pulls the strings, and destroy them. to her, loki’s hesitation isn’t caution, but treachery. taking kang’s offer to rule the tva is exactly what she thinks she should’ve expected from the guy who hurts everybody who loves him. her fight or flight responses kick in, and she chooses the one she always chooses. loki’s attempts to reassure her fall on deaf ears, not just because she doesn’t want to trust him, but because she’s physically incapable of it. she makes the short-sighted decision of brute force, just like she did back on lamentis, because it’s all she’s ever known, and the cause she’s dedicated her life to.

from the outside, it looks like sylvie was the one who betrayed loki, but things look pretty different from where she’s standing.

this is why i take issue with people calling sylvie a ‘villain’ or questioning whether this was her plan for the start. in my opinion, her motivations line up pretty clearly as a creature of habit, one who panics at the first hint of smoke and pushes away the first person she’s been able to bond with for the sake of self-preservation. did she make the wrong decision? unquestionably - the effects of her actions will no doubt plague the multiverse (and the mcu, for us) for as long as they go unchecked. but she made the only decision she was capable of making, and that’s not villainous, just tragic.

conclusion

well, this is a kind of depressing way to finish this post. for what it’s worth, though, i don’t think sylvie is a doomed character. regardless of how brief it was, she did show a real connection with loki. just because something requires a lot of healing doesn’t make it impossible. this is why i like sylvie as a character so much; she’s deeply flawed and complex, but that complexity makes her interesting, and relatable. marvel has a long history of sexy lamps and supposed ‘tortured backstories’, but sylvie is the first time they paid attention to this with their character writing without having to give somebody a wholeass prequel movie. with loki confirmed to appear in multiverse of madness, i’m hoping we see more of sylvie - not as a villain, but as a hero who can overcome her past experiences and rise to better things.

or maybe another kang shows up and kills her immediately. who knows.

#sylvie #sylvie laufeydottir #loki #loki theory #loki analysis #loki series #long post #like really fucking long #i’m so sorry for this #not a gif

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softyoongiionly · 4 years

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Portraits of a Tiger || 02

Legends of a great and equally terrifying warrior nicknamed the Tiger have been emerging from your fellow villagers for quite sometime. Stories of his skill, his stealth and his supposed wickedness have been passed around to the point where he is more prophecy than person. You have lived your life with a strong sense of conviction, rarely letting gossip influence your opinion. However, you would be lying if you said that his legacy didn’t intrigue you. When the Tiger and his infamous army arrive in your village to refuel, you come face to face with the man behind the myth.

And no amount of marketplace gossip would ever be enough to capture the true complexity of his nature.

Pairing: Merchant! Reader x Warrior! Yoongi

Genre: Adventure, Romance, Smut (later), Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: language, depictions of violence both verbal and physical however they are fairly mild, mentions of war and power dynamics, there will be smut in future parts so, (18+ only please).

Current Tag List (let me know if you want to be tagged!): @gldnrecs @naajix @bluewhale52 @nikkikenji @lustedkisses @loveyoongles @hear-me-growl

A/N: oh hiiii. I’m a little obsessed with this universe so, I hope you guys are enjoying all the Warrior! Yoongi content. Love you!

Once again, I want to shout out @bulletproofbirdy for everything she has done to make this fic possible. I love you so much!

“I’m just saying, some of the women in this village should at least attempt it. Wedding a solider is an honor, not to mention the fact that it sets you up for life.”

Jane’s voice sounds beside you and it causes you to smile to yourself; she’s always coming up with plans for other people, attempting to live vicariously through them.

“Like Y/N- you’re young-” She tilts her head, her frizzy red hair almost twirling above her scalp, “-ish. You would probably be able to convince one of them to take you for a bride.”

You scoff, “Thank you for having so much faith in me Jane, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jane quickly moves on to another girl in the market, throwing the same amount of enthusiasm her way.

You know she means well, even if she is a little brash at times.

It’s been two days since the market place was riddled with thieves and soldiers. Things have mostly gone back to normal apart from the same armored men loitering about your village.

Over the time that’s past, you’ve been able to meet or at least learn more about Yoongi’s fleet.

Seven men, each of them possessing an incredible amount of skill, made up the group behind the gossip.

Seokjin was indeed in charge of community outreach (and the cooking) but, he was also an incredible marksmen; his aim was unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. Whilst you were cleaning up yesterday evening, you saw a few of them practicing and Seokjin through a dagger from nearly 200 feet away only for it to land directly in the center of the target.

Namjoon, you met in the library whilst you were reading more about a new remedy you were planning to try. He was extremely brawny but very mild mannered. He introduced himself and thanked you for the bread you had delivered and upon speaking to him, you learned of his position in the fleet; psychological warfare. According to Namjoon, he was in charge of depleting the moral of their enemies by various means that he didn’t specify. His gentle demeanor made it very difficult for you to believe that he was apart of such a dangerous team but you realized that, that was the very reason he was so successful.

Jungkook, according to Seokjin, was the fleet’s first responder: The first man on the ground during a battle and usually the last one to leave. He had two things on his side: speed and strength. The fleet calls him the Terror Cub which is supposed to be a play on Yoongi’s nickname. You’ve also learned that Jungkook is Yoongi’s younger brother and upon minimal observation, you can tell they have a very close bond.

Jimin, you met at the tavern during an evening out with Rachel. He was incredibly kind and his beauty was nothing short of offensive. His position in the army made sense; he was known as a Red Herring or in civilian terms: the distraction. Jimin’s beauty and charm was the fleet’s secret weapon and after spending a bit of time with him that night, you could definitely see why. Without a uniform, Jimin looks like a soft and unassuming man. A target would never suspect his true intentions.

Taehyung and you had a lot in common as he too was an Apothecary only- he didn’t specialize in the same type of medicine you did. Taehyung was the fleet’s resident poison expert. You met him at the tavern as well as he was the man Jimin hung off of the entire night. You learned of their romance throughout the evening and, couldn’t help but admire the sheer power between them. The Herring and the Poison Expert, what a duo.

Hoseok was still a bit of a mystery to you as he rarely ventured into the village. According to Seokjin, Yoongi placed him charge of training the new recruits specifically in the art Hoseok was most familiar with: archery. Upon the introduction of his position, you quickly recalled a story regarding the legendary archer. Hoseok’s expertise had made it into the discourse in your village roughly a year ago when the Royal Army took down invaders in the snowy mountains just west of your home. In accordance with the story, Hoseok defeated their front line from the treetops before they were able to reach the rest of his fleet. You hadn’t had a chance to speak with him much but, he did introduce himself when you brought a second basket of bread to the camp.

Aside from being their general, their leader and, the most expert swordsman in all of the land, Yoongi was also the fleet’s strategist. He mapped their every move, their every course, their objectives and several precautionary measures should things go sour. He was essentially the brains behind everything but of course, you didn’t learn this from him. The rest of his men had revealed bits and pieces about him throughout your interactions with each of them.

In addition, you also learned that Yoongi’s army was a defensive force. They were established as a means of protection by the Queens which would mean that the stories of them ruthlessly invading territories around the region were null and void. The seven of them preceded over a much larger fleet; 22,000 men who follow closely behind them but never fight unless Yoongi calls in for backup.

The Tiger’s fleet was the frontline, the brain, heart and soul of the royal army.

You feel a bit of sadness for them. They have done so much to protect this land and although they are revered and admired, they are also unnecessarily feared.

The morning passes easily and it’s one of those days where you actually enjoy being out in the plaza.

The weather was nice, temperate and cool just as you like it.

Clouds encase the otherwise sunny sky which keeps it from growing too warm in the marketplace and, with the slight breeze wafting throughout the atmosphere, you feel content.

A minimal afternoon crowd makes it easy for you to provide accurate and lengthy consultations to your patrons.

“Yes- just apply this three times a day and you should notice a significant reduction in the inflammation.” You smile sweetly, passing a lot the salve to your customer before you notice a familiar color making its way through the crowd.

It’s platinum and the curve of the ponytail its attached to belongs to someone you hadn’t anticipated on seeing.

It causes your heartrate to go a little wonky whilst you attempt to look away.

The salve Yoongi purchased from you days earlier prove to be very popular amongst his crew and now his tin that was supposed to last him three months is nearly gone.

He may have other reasons for returning to the market as well but, his story was air-tight and would need no further explanation.

He would know, he checked.

“Good morning,” You smile at him and Jane’s train of thought is derailed the moment she sees your next customer. “How can I help you?”

He raises his hand, a large metal tin between his fingers, “Do you have any more of this? I woke up this morning to find that my men have ransacked it. If you have the stock, I’d like to buy 7 more tins so I can have one of my own.”

You can’t help it but allow your eyes to widen at his request; the profits from 7 more tins would be enough to feed your family for the next month.

But you compose yourself quickly and nod, “I have more than enough- you said 7 right? Did you want the big tins again?”

He lowers his hand and sighs, his eyes flitting back towards his tent, “Please. I don’t trust the younger ones to use it as you instructed so, I want to make sure it lasts as long as it can.”

Snickering, you bend down and grab the requested amount of tins for him and nod in understanding, “Makes total sense. I’m guessing one of the main culprits was Jungkook? I saw him rubbing his hands together for a really long time and, now everything makes sense.”

Yoongi smirks, his teeth peeking out between his lips, “Aish that kid- he's gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“He’s younger brother right? I can see the resemblance...” You tease, wrapping the tins in paper, spending a little too much time on each one and, no it’s totally not because you’re trying to prolong your interaction with Yoongi.

“Adopted brother yes- my parents took him in when he was 7. It’s interesting you think we look alike though, you’re not the first person to say that.” Yoongi’s hands have found their way to his uniform, smoothing it out subconsciously.

“Oh really? Yeah I wouldn’t have suspected that, you guys have the same mouth-” His brows raise at your comment and the glint in his eye makes you backtrack, “his lips are a little bigger I guess though so- uh not that I’m looking closely at your mouth or anything but-”

Yoongi starts chuckling then, the shakiness in your tone amusing him “I understand what you mean don’t worry. What’s my total?” He nods to the tins, which you’ve finally finished wrapping.

“Oh! Right, I’m sorry- your total is 24.50...” You slide the tins towards him carefully before Jane’s shrill voice sounds from beside you.

“Give the man a discount Y/N, he’s practically buying out your entire stock!” She urges, gesturing wildly towards your cart.

Your mouth opens as your eyes move quickly between her and Yoongi “O-”

Yoongi raises his hand, “Nonsense. Ms. Y/L/N’s products are some of the finest I’ve come across and are certainly worth the full price- 24.50 you said?” His brows raise again, looking directly into your eyes, not even bothering to turn to Jane’s direction.

The direct way in which he addresses her sends a bit of heat to your cheeks. Jane is someone you have mutual respect for but, her attitude isn’t your favorite nor is her incessant need to put her nose in everyone’s business.

“Yes, thank you.” You smile sheepishly, bending down once more to grab a paper bag from beneath your counter, “I’ll put in a few bags of rose hip and peppermint tea free of charge; they help with inflammation. I know you all will be training over the next few weeks so, you should get some use out of it.”

He offers a small smile and bows his head, “Thank you. Uh-” Yoongi turns once again back towards his camp, “Seokjin hasn’t stopped talking about your bread, has he arranged for you to bring more?”

Giggling, you accept his payment, tucking it away beneath the counter and nodding, “Yes. I’ll be by this evening with a new batch.”

“Has he offered any payment? We appreciate the hospitality of course but, I do hope he plans on compensating you for your trouble.”

Waving him off, you shake your head and slide the bag his way, “It’s no trouble at all honestly, I’ve been wanting to hone my baking skills for quite some time so, this just gives me an excuse to do so.”

He grimaces, “Still, you should be-”

“I really don’t mind Yoongi, I promise. This transaction is going to take care of my family and I for quite some time. Not to mention the fact that you all saved my village A LOT of trouble. Take the free bread.” You insist, smirking slightly and if you aren’t mistaken, you notice a light blush come across his cheeks.

Clearing his throat, he steps back away from your cart, moving the smile off of his lips as best as he can.

He likes the sound of his name on your lips a little more than he cares to admit.

He needs to get out of this plaza before he smiles at you one more time.

It’s getting a little out of hand.

“Appreciate it.” He mutters before bowing his head once more, “I suppose I’ll see you this evening then?”

Something flutters around in your stomach, “You will. Thank you again for coming by.”

His mouth fixes over a tight smile as he fashions the bag around his wrist, which is quite delicate for a man of his nature.

When Yoongi is fully out of earshot, you take a deep breath and begin straightening up your cart, trying to distract your mind from his presence

Jane however, has been foaming at the mouth ever since he shot down her suggestion of a discount and quickly rushes over to you, smacking her hand across your arm.

“Ow! Ok- listen we have got to find another way to greet each other because, you’re going to leave some permanent damage on me one of these days.” You admonish, your brow furrowing as you rub your arm.

She ignores you and leans down, her eyes wide with curiosity, “You ARE going to pursue him aren’t you? He’s clearly interested, did you see the way he smiled?! He was quite literally hanging on every word you said!” She whisper yells, her eyes darting around

This conversation is giving you deja vu and given your flustered state you don’t necessarily have the capacity to argue with her.

“Maybe he’s just kinder than you all gave him credit for.” You answer coolly, giggling as she tugs frantically at your dress.

“He’s kinder to YOU. He barely gave me a second look.” She insists, sound slightly bitter

You quickly move on, waving over another customer, a smile still on your lips, “Aren’t you happily married Jane? I’m sure your husband looks at you plenty...”

She kisses her teeth and rolls her eyes, “Happily is a loaded word dear. Regardless, my point stays the same. You said you were bringing bread over to him didn’t you? Are you planning on using that chance to further this little bond you two have?”

Its your turn to roll your eyes now, “I plan on using that chance to deliver bread.”

With a grumble, Jane reluctantly returns to her cart as she too has a customer heading her way.

The rest of the day passes easily, which you are quite thankful for given that you’re evening plans are a little out of the ordinary.

It’s hard to get Yoongi out of your mind but, you really do try, he is just a man after all.

Just an interesting, intelligent, handsome-

“Y/N...” Rachel’s voice drags you out of your train of thought and causes you to quickly shift on the stool towards her.

You went to her house after you day had ended because:

She’s the absolute best

and

She has the better oven

“What? Sorry I was-”

She smirks knowingly, sprinkling flour over the dough on the cutting board, “Just thinking about how you plan on charming the Tiger tonight?”

You’d like to deny it but, she isn’t entirely wrong.

Instead, you just go back to wrapping the current loaf of fresh bread in the same paper you use to wrap you wares back at the market.

The cheese in this batch makes the outside of the bread a little greasy so, you always gift it with some wrapping; it also keeps the bugs away.

“You know- you should come with me. It's your one-way ticket to Jungkook, you only have a few weeks to gain his hand in marriage.” You point out, smirking.

Rachel blushes profusely, “I- well- you know?!?! He really is something.” She stutters, swallowing back a bit of her nerves before continuing, “I don’t know if I can do that. You've seen me in social settings...”

You snort and point in her direction, “I have. You’re great in social settings. We panic- in private- together remember? That’s how we bond.” Clenching your fist to your chest dramatically, you continue with the rest of her concern, “Honestly he’s not that intimidating face to face. He was practically hiding behind in his friend when I was there...”

Jungkook had stood out to you for that specific reason; his demeanor at the plaza would have never lead you to suspect his shy and rather docile nature.

He certainly was perplexing.

Rachel smiles whimsically, staring off at nothing while she half-heartedly kneads the dough. She then lets out a sigh before giggling at the end of your sentence, “I suppose you’re right. He seems gentle underneath that brawny exterior. He’s so handsome too- and such a high rank for being so young. I’m just a village teacher...”

You smirk again, “Gentle is one way of putting it.” Then you scoff, feeling actual offense at her comment regarding herself. To express your distaste, you throw a piece of dough her way, “Stop that. You are literally the most eligible woman in this entire village. You are an artist, an educator and-” You take a bite out of a spare loaf of bread and shove it in your mouth, relishing in it’s doughy, cheesy texture. “- a damn good baker. Don’t sell yourself short.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, “Oh alright...you’re quite eligible yourself you know! How does it feel to have caught the eye of the Tiger himself, hm????”

“So you’re coming?” You ask excitedly, bouncing on your stool before promptly looking away in denial, “I have done no such thing. He’s just being friendly to me because I cured his dry skin. Soft hands will change a man let me tell you...”

“Ohhhh I suppose I will.” She sighs with a shrug to her shoulders, “My curiosity will always get the best of me, for better or worse.” She leans closer to her friend, conspiratorially “we can’t have that Tigers paws TOO soft—don’t do your job TOO well, oh esteemed herbalist.”

“In sickness and in health til death do you part...” You finish with raised brows, before giggling “esteemed and eligible? Now you’re just flattering me. I don’t think he’ll need to come back to my cart at least, I gave him enough salve to last the winter.”

Rachel shoves rounds the counter suddenly, heat blooming on her cheeks as she tries to shove you off the stool, “Oh YOUUUUU!!” She rolls her eyes again, looking at you pointedly, “Regardless of salve, you don’t give yourself enough credit. All jokes aside, Y/N, from what you have told me about your run ins with the general, he seems to appreciate your conversation. I don’t imagine people treat him with such frankness.”

Your laughter increases as you hold onto the counter for dear life, “Hey easy!” Biting your lip, you try to think of the right words to say without giving yourself away, “He’s very interesting. I am- you know, very intrigued by him that’s for sure.”

She lets you off the hook, her own laughter dying down as she returns to her place, “He is fascinating...I am a bit surprised at how different he seems to be from the stories...it raises so many questions like- how did he end up where he is?”

“I don’t know honestly. I kind of feel bad that so many people had him wrong- Seokjin said they don’t get a lot of hospitality due to the rumors about Yoongi.”

Rachel pouts before turning to pull one of the last batches of bread out of the oven. As she tugs the tray out of it’s warm resting place her lips tug up into a smirk “Oh it’s Yoongi now? On a first name basis with the nation’s greatest general I see- that was quick.”

It’s your eyes that roll this time, heat rushing to the tip of your nose, “That IS his name... I can’t keep calling him Tiger now can I? That would be weird...”

She continues smirking but, her eyes hold a bit of sympathy as she addresses the rest of your sentence, “Seriously though, that breaks my heart for them...he handled that raider with more kindness than he deserved. It makes me wonder how many other rumors are unfounded.”

“Yeah it really surprised me- I was expecting there to be bloodshed...I still can’t believe he just let most of them go. I’ve seen soldiers administer worse punishments for lesser offenses.

“I suppose you are right. Yoongi seems to be shrouded in mystery, but perhaps you will have a chance to learn more about the man behind the myth?” She suggests, brows rising with her inquiry.

“Typical teacher- rooting for me and all my hopes and dreams.” You tease as the two of you load up the bread into the basket, “Perhaps YOU will have a chance to learn more about the man behind the chest plate hm? Are you all ready to go?”

She smiles, “I will ALWAYS root for you!” And as the two of you begin packing everything up she huffs, blushing once again, “You really won’t stop teasing me, will you?”

“Nope.” You smile cheekily, dodging as she tries to wack you, “I can see it now- you, educating the youth and him- protecting the innocent. It’s a match made in heaven.”

Rachel offers a shy grin as the two of you head out the door, “A girl can daydream...”

The walk to the camp doesn’t take long but within the short period of time you spend walking, your stomach manages to work itself up into a frenzy.

“Ok- the main tent is the one with the flag on the-” You begin, pointing it out to Rachel but your voice is quickly swallowed as you spot him:

The Tiger aka Yoongi, strolls through the courtyard of their camp towards a group of awaiting recruits in the distance.

He’s wearing crème colored linen pants and a matching peasant blouse, his long white tendrils wrapped up into a bun atop his head. He strides through the grass with confidence, his dark eyes observing his surroundings.

“You were saying?” Rachel eyes you curiously before following your line of sight.

Before she can say anything, you rush to return to your explanation, “Seokjin is the one that I made the arrangements with so, we can deliver these in there.” You gesture to the main tent, swallowing back a bit of nerves.

You don’t see many of Yoongi’s men out in the yard with the exception of Namjoon. He’s sitting on a bench, dressed entirely in red, sketching on a piece of parchment.

As you ring the bell of the tent, Rachel subconsciously shifts behind you.

“Is that my bread?!” Seokjin yells from inside the tent and after a bit of shuffling, he pushes aside the entrance, a bright smile on his face, “Ugh it is. You are a godsent Y/N...” His head cocks as he sees Rachel standing beside you, “Oh hello, you must be Y/N’s friend. Kim Seokjin, did you assist with this delivery?”

He extends a hand to her warmly and Rachel graciously takes it, smiling softly.

“I did. It’s very nice to meet you. You can call me Rachel...”

He returns her smile, bowing his head, “Rachel- that’s a beautiful name. Thank you for doing this, I haven’t seen these men so energized in quite some time.” Seokjin smirks fondly before his teeth tug at his bottom lip, “Would you two mind joining me in here for a moment? I have a question I’d like to ask you.”

You nod despite your confusion, still in disbelief that you’ve made contact with the nation’s most infamous men.

“Of course.”

Rachel nods politely, following behind you as Seokjin holds the entrance open.

Your hit with the smell of wood as you enter their tent along with a hint of musk. It’s genuinely surprising that the odor isn’t stronger given that multiple men likely share these quarters. There’s several cots on the floor and mini lanterns adorning the ropes holding the tent together. Supplies, personal belongings and various weapons litter the floor and tabletops and, in one of the cots you spot Jungkook, laying down, shirtless.

In front of his face sits a book that needs no introduction; a famous military strategy guide written by an ancient legend. Befitting, you think, of course they would have their men brushing up on military technique.

Your brain also hones in on the man holding the book:

Jungkook is truly beautiful. His chocolate locks reach the base of his neck, disheveled but luxurious whilst his tan and soft features are screwed up in concentration. He doesn’t notice your presence at first but, Rachel certainly notices him.

You can hear her swallow beside you, her face turning bright red as her body subconsciously shifts closer to you.

Her lips part silently and she tries her best to tear her eyes away from his body. The broadness of his chest and the smooth curves of his stomach is enough to capture your attention as well despite the fact that muscle doesn’t normally warrant a reaction from you.

As you the two of you grow closer to him, his eyes finally flit in your direction and, they grow wide like saucers. Hastily, he throws his book to the side before ripping his blanket off the end of his cot and wrapping it around himself.

“Jungkook-ah, make yourself decent. We have guests. I believe you’ve met Y/N already but, this is her friend Rachel...” Seokjin gestures elegantly to both of you, unbothered and unaware of the lingering tension in the air.

“Yes Hyung-” He mutters and grabs his brown linen shirt off the floor and tugs it over his head. He stands, almost robotically and extends his hand towards her, “Nice to meet you.”

Rachel moves in a similar way, her eyes still widened slightly whilst she takes his hand.

“Hi.” She responds, her voice smaller than usual and it causes Seokjin to quirk his brow at the two of them.

Jungkook visibly swallows, his prominent Adams apple bouncing in his throat as his hand sort of lingers against hers.

“I like your- “ His eyes flit to the top of her head, “ribbon. It’s blue.”

Seokjin smirks knowingly at the two of them now and he opens his mouth to break the tension before Rachel speaks up.

“Thanks!” She says a bit too loudly before swallowing the volume a bit, “I like your shirt. It’s very brown- a nice brown.”

Jungkook offers a tiny smile, dropping her hand reluctantly and before their encounter can continue, Seokjin speaks up.

“Uh ok, hooray for first meetings hm?” He nods to the exit of the tent, “Jungkook, I believe Yoongi was looking for you. He needs an assistant for today’s training session.”

Jungkook immediately perks up, nodding in excitement, “Yes hyung.” He pivots towards his cot to collect his armor but turns around once more to glance at Rachel, “Nice meeting you.”

“You too.” She practically squeaks, raising a hand in farewell.

Jungkook’s teeth peek out as he grins before he grabs his armor and practically sprints out of the tent.

Seokjin chuckles warmly and shakes his head before gesturing to the wooden table towards the back of the tent, “You are welcome to have a seat here, this should only take a moment.”

You each take your places at the table, illuminated by the lantern hanging above you.

Seokjin rounds the corner to sit across from you, his prince-like features tightening with a bit seriousness.

“As I said- this will be quick.” He assures you, licking his lips and lowering his voice a bit, “I was speaking with Yoongi earlier today and, he mentioned something that made me quite curious. He relayed a bit of your conversation with him-” He looks at you, “-he said that you told him that raiders were a common occurrence in your region, is that correct?”

You take his lead and lower your voice as well, glancing at Rachel before answering, “Yes. The number of raids has been increasing recently over the last few months actually.”

“I see. Do you have any idea as to why that may be?”

“I mean- our village is known for negotiating with raider clans.” You offer,” Our leaders feel as though it prevents violence.”

His brows quirk, hands clasping on the top of the table, “Has that method been effective so far?”

You look to Rachel for her insight and she tilts her head, considering the question, before she nods in approval which causes you to follow suit.

“I guess so. We have a specific strategy but, we are equipped with defenses as well.”

Seokjin nods, his brows knitting together in thought. His plush lips part for a moment as he contemplates his next response, uncertainty written all over his face.

“Have either of you noticed any similarities between the clans? Anything at all- clothing, weaponry, language?”

Your immediate response is to shake your head.

When a raid is occurring, you don’t necessarily have time to observe your intruders; safety is the only thing on your mind.

Rachel however, has noticed a similarity.

“There is one thing I’ve started to notice actually-” She begins, “They all seem to have a similar strategy. When they arrive, they encircle the town first before working their way inwards. It takes them a very long time to reach the center of the village, which is where we wait for them. It’s very strange actually, the center plaza contains most of our valuables- it's almost as if they are trying to take over in a way. However, they always end up leaving after negotiations and, I’ve never seen the same faces twice.”

Now that she mentions it, you recall that similarity as well.

They do deploy the same tactic but, you just assumed that it’s the most effective way to get the most out of their raid.

Perhaps that isn’t their only intention.

Your stomach shrinks at the thought as you try to push it out of your head.

Seokjin’s features twitch with a bit of unease but, he composes himself quickly and smiles.

“Thank you. I’ll pass that along to Yoongi and see what he thinks of it.” He takes a deep breath, “We really appreciate your cooperation. As I mentioned to you the other day, it’s not very often that we are able to communicate with civilians and it makes our job a lot easier if we have insight from people who actually live in the territories we try to protect.” He eyes you both with a bit of hesitation then, as if he’s contemplating something, “If you wouldn't mind spreading the word that we aren’t a group of vicious demi-gods that would be great. As fun as the legends are, they can be a hinderance to our work...”

You and Rachel nod in understanding, chuckling lightly at his word usage as the three of you stand.

“I’ll pass along the information. Thank you for having us.” You smile, bowing your head.

Rachel follows suit and, subconsciously her eyes drift to Jungkook’s cot, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Seokjin.

“We appreciate having you very much.” He smirks as his eyes flit to Rachel, “Both of you. I think you should come along with Y/N for future deliveries Rachel, I’m sure Jungkook would enjoy that.”

Comically, Rachel’s eyes widen a bit as she aggressively clears her throat, frantically looking away from Jungkook’s cot.

“What? Why would he? Wh-What do you mean?” She stutters which causes you to giggle fondly at your friend.

Taking her hand, you squeeze it gently and address Seokjin’s request, “Oh she’ll be back, don’t you worry.”

He chuckles and gestures to the door, “I look forward to it. I’ll walk you two out, I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

Rachel mutters something inaudible by your side, towing behind you reluctantly.

After your departure from the tent and a bit of friendly verbal sparring between you and Rachel, you separate to finish the remainder of your day.

That evening, you decide to go against your parent’s judgements and journey to the river once again.

As beautiful as it is in the daylight, the moon provides a rendition unlike any other. She casts her glow on the water like the mother of all spotlights, dancing across the surface with ease.

The truth is, you often sneak out after your parent’s have fallen asleep to find solace in the atmosphere of there. It’s almost magical and you feel as though you can think clearly here.

You always bring your wicker basket along as well so you can collect any herbs or ingredients you may need.

It’s a necessity to switch off between plants though and ensure that you aren’t depleting the rivers natural resources too much; a practice you are continuously getting better at.

The river carries it’s usual orchestra of sounds along with a bit more whistling in the trees.

It’s mating season for the birds here and they are singing to one another in hopes of finding a lover.

You giggle to yourself and think of what the world would be like if humans implied a similar method of finding a partner.

“Should I be concerned that you’re out here alone, laughing to yourself?”

The voice instantly sends energy up your back and you whip your head around to find Yoongi standing a few yards behind you.

He looks a bit worn out, likely from all the work he’s been doing with the new recruits but, his beauty overwhelms you regardless.

The moonlight casts shadows on his face, his mouth pulled up in a smirk, his hair tied back once again into a ponytail.

He’s wearing a set of clean clothes, a white linen top with brown pants, his sword strapped loyally to his hip.

You imagine he never travels without it.

“Should I be concerned that you’re stalking me?” You retort trying to control the smile that crosses over your face.

He smirks, his hand coming up to rub behind his neck, “I’m not stalking you. I’m patrolling the perimeter, common military practice. You just so happen to be along the perimeter.”

“The perimeter is one the other side of the river, there is a path just through those trees over there-” You point to a group of trees to the left of you, “So technically, you’re not walking the ENTIRE perimeter.”

Yoongi smirks broadens enough for his teeth to peak out as he nods, impressed by your knowledge, “Fair enough.” He nods to the river behind you, “I like walking through here, it’s peaceful.”

You can’t help but return a smile of your own as you nod, “It is. I don’t blame you for taking a detour, even if it was to scare the lights out of me again.”

He chuckles, “Are you out here often?”

“Very.” You nod, “This place serves multiple purposes.”

“Oh does it? What purposes are those?”

“Well, I get most of my ingredients from the river or the surrounding forest so, it’s vital to my work and,” You gesture to the space around your head, “It’s the perfect location to contemplate my existence, the meaning of life, the secrets of the universe- you know, stuff like that.”

Yoongi’s expression grows very amused then, his tongue poking out between his lips before he laughs again, “Ah yes- that stuff. Has the river provided you with any answers?”

“Oh yeah- plenty but you know, the answers only lead to more questions. It’s a vicious cycle.” You quip, giggling a bit and feeling very comfortable in his presence.

There is magnetism between the two of you.

It’s something you’ve never felt before.

And deep down within your heart, you hope he feels it too.

He steps towards you subconsciously, glancing towards the moon and then back at you, “I know that cycle very well. Have you found anything worth sharing? My job doesn’t exactly allow me to indulge in philosophy very often, I’d welcome any of your insight.”

It’s perplexing that a famous General would care to know your thoughts regarding the best eateries in your village let alone, for him to care about your philosophy.

It’s incredibly odd.

You've always been a fan of oddities though so, you don’t think as much of it as you should.

“You’d have to be a little more specific, I don’t think you’d want to sit here whilst I prattle on about the complexities of the universe.” You laugh

He bites his lip in contemplation, his gaze on you softening significantly, “I wouldn’t be so sure...” Yoongi murmurs and the way he looks at you sends your heart on a marathon, “But I see your point; what do you think of the war?”

Taking a deep breath, you attempt to compose yourself and your thoughts in order to accurately address his question.

“I understand it to a certain extent. Historically speaking, humans have consistently risen in opposition of one another for whatever reason. Peace seems impossible at times. With so many selfish people rising to power, it almost incentivizes that kind of behavior. It’s rewarded. Peace is only possible when you restrict the empowerment of those who act within their own self-interest. The cycle always continues though so, war is inevitable.” You speak softly, taking your eyes off of Yoongi for a moment to focus on your choice of words.

His dark eyes seem to glimmer with fascination as he nods along to your response, the two of you shifting closer to one another.

Unintentionally, of course.

“How should we restrict the empowerment of those individuals?” He licks his lips as his eyes narrow in curiosity, “Do you think there is a way to do that?”

Chewing on your cheek, you consider his question before letting out a sigh, “The power would have to return to the masses. I think the idea that humanity needs finite leadership isn’t completely accurate. Snuffing out corruption is difficult though, especially since it’s already been let loose. I guess there isn’t a linear path but, I’d like to believe it’s possible.”

He smiles, “So would I. My profession wouldn’t really imply that though would it?”

Your hands play with the fabric of your dress to distract from how close the two of you are as you swallow back the instability of your breath.

“I think it does actually. You aren’t tasked with the corrupt objectives; your job is to defend against it.”

A grimace comes over his face, “I still engage in violence.”

“You do.” You agree, your hands lowering to clasp in front of you, “There is a difference between you and your enemy though isn’t there?”

Yoongi is truly hanging on every word you say, eager to hear the soft twinkle of your voice, eager to understand your mind.

“There is.” He answers tightly, glancing down your hands, “Violence isn’t our objective.”

You notice his gaze on your hands and it causes you to look at his own; they look softer than you remember, which you hope you can take partial credit for.

Amused, you watch as he clasps and unclasps them unknowingly, his nerves starting to creep up inside his head.

“What is your objective?” You ask, smiling softly at him

He bites his bottom lip, nodding as he understands where you’re headed, “Defending the innocent.”

“In times of war, peace also requires an army...” You conclude, hoping to comfort him in some way.

He smiles again but, he doesn’t look up at you, his gaze transfixed upon your fingers, “You should consider becoming an advisor of some sort.”

Your head tilts, your heart rate going crazy in your chest but, your curiosity and it’s need to be sated override your need to be proper.

“Why do you keep looking at my hands?”

He still doesn’t look up but he does blush, nervous laughter emanating from his lips, “Because I want to hold them...”

At his confession, he looks up at you longing, his throat bobbing as he swallows and tries to discern your reaction.

Without thinking you unfurl your fingers and turn your palms so they are facing towards the sky, slightly embarrassed by the way that they shake.

“Then hold them.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen momentarily, shooting down at your upturned palms before he slowly, almost agonizingly places his own shaking hands atop yours.

Simultaneously, the two of you intertwine your fingers, feeling the erratic pulse of one another.

“It’s good to know that my heart isn't the only one that’s pounding.”

Nervously, you giggle and nod rapidly, “Definitely. I thought I was the only one...”

He chuckles in response, stepping towards you a little more so you can feel the heat coming off of his body.

The two of you stand there in silence, enjoying the feeling of one another and the simplicity of the act you’re performing.

Words fall short on your tongue because, you are truly in awe of the way you feel and, part of you worries that you’re actually dreaming.

A shout nearby, coming from one of your fellow villagers rips the two of you out of your moment as Yoongi suddenly remembers why he came this way in the first place.

He drops your hands and steps back, feeling slightly regretful that he let go of you so abruptly.

“I’m sorry.” He clears his throat, looking back towards the voice before gesturing to the forest, “I should go- my men will come looking for me if I’m gone too long.”

Quickly, you nod in understanding, stepping a few inches back, “Of course. Thank you for the talk- it was-”

“I’d like to come by the river more often while I’m here- if that’s alright with you.” He interrupts you, his voice a little shaky as he clears his throat again.

Knowingly, you grin, “I don’t own the river Yoongi...”

Your quip breaks the bit of tension between you and he chuckles, his hands adjusting his clothes unnecessarily.

“I’m aware, Ms. Apothecary. I was just implying that-”

You interrupt him now with a smirk rushing to your lips, “You were implying that we should cross paths again.”

Yoongi bites his lip, cheeks the color of summer roses, “Yes.”

“I think we should too.”

This makes him smile and for a moment, he looks like a young man, completely rid of any burdens.

It’s a good look.

“Are you ok to walk back on your own?”

You want to tell him no but, the light from the main street is yards away and after that, your home is only 5 minutes by foot.

“Yes.” You nod to the forest behind him, “Are you ok to walk on your own?”

He rolls his eyes before chuckling, patting the sword at his hip, “I’ll manage.”

With one last parting smile, the two of you begin to go your separate ways.

Tonight, each of your minds would be filled thoughts of one another and if you were lucky, you’d cross each others path while you sleep.

One could only hope.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight General Min.”

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berrydoodleoo · 3 years

Text

FFXIVWrite 2021: foster

“Well, my dear.” Master Matoya stepped past Y’shtola to look at the new crater in her underground lab. She’d stopped it from filling with water via a handy spell, but repairing the ruined brick and pipes was going to be a more physical sort of challenge. “Regardless of what stories Mr. Kribbet has been telling about my memory, I certainly won’t be forgetting about you anytime soon.” Matoya paused thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever had any student who was such an unmitigated disaster.”

Green eyes hidden by her sodden white bangs, Y’shtola growled under her breath and stomped a foot indignantly. Her wet shoe made a little squish.

Matoya rounded on her, quick as a snake. “And what was that, Y’shtola?”

Her last student, some twenty-odd years past, would have been scrambling at her tone. Y’shtola simply glared out from under her bangs. “Nothing, Master Matoya.”

“What was that? Hm? Can’t hear you when you mumble.” Matoya poked her with her walking stick.

Y’shtola batted it away indignantly. “I didn’t say anything!”

Technically true. Well, her lab might be ruined, but the girl’s spirit was certainly intact. And she had other labs.

“I think I will put you to studying white magic, for a time,” Matoya finally concluded. “At least you’re less likely to blow the roof off the place that way. When you’re grown and safe in your own lab, you can practice more destructive magics at your leisure.”

She turned, and found the girl gaping at her, eyes gone shiny. “What’s this, then?” Matoya demanded, startled.

“Then…” Y’shtola took a deep breath. “Then I can stay? I can -- I can still be your student?”

Matoya regarded her silently. The girl was barely an adolescent, still young and insecure, lost in her herd (or should that be pack?) of older, talented sisters. Perhaps her insecurity, hidden though it was, wasn’t such a surprise. A bit of careful tutelage might help with that, Matoya mused -- tutelage, yes, nothing else, certainly not parenting. Even if her young, overlooked student could benefit from it.

“Provided you do one thing for me.” Matoya stepped forward smoothly. “You almost drowned here, you know. That whirlpool would have sucked you under and held you till you’d stopped kicking if not for my timely arrival.”

Y’shtola withdrew into herself, but only momentarily: “Just tell me what I need to do! I’ll do it!” She stood tall, only her lashing tail betraying her uncertainty. “Is it the spell? Do I need to master the spell? I almost had it--”

“Quiet,” Matoya interrupted. Y’shtola fell silent. “No, it’s not the spell. It’s not my job to teach you forbidden spells, girl, just to fish you out when you go falling in. And if you’re going to keep learning forbidden spells -- and I can see by the light in your eyes that you are -- you need to learn something much, much more valuable than magic.”

Matoya held out her hand. With the other, held behind her back, she summoned the Crystal Eye and drew upon its bottomless strength. Her extended hand shone briefly with silver light, a small shield spell that was powerful enough to make Y’shtola recoil. When the light faded, the girl looked at her questioningly, and then took her aged hand in her small brown one.

“You are going to learn to hold on,” Matoya informed her grimly. “Not just with your hands, but your whole self. All your magic, and all your soul. Beyond all good sense and reason. If you can hold tightly enough to break my shield, I’ll keep you as my student.”

Of course, it was a trick. No amount of effort a child could bring to bear would shatter a shield from the Crystal Eye. But as the girl gripped Matoya’s hand with both of hers, ears flattening and tail puffing as she summoned all of her physical strength and the impressive might of her magic, Matoya figured the trying would teach her a valuable lesson nonetheless.

(When the shield shattered, it left small scratches on the aether in Matoya’s hand, like little bolts of lightning carved into her bones. A careful spell or two, a little mental effort, and they would probably buff right out.

But she kept them anyway. As a reminder.)

Thancred had grown accustomed to rough-and-tumble on the streets of Limsa Lominsa. He’d fought his way to the top of his gang and led an attack on the meanest group of slavers the pirate city had even seen before his sixteenth birthday. He was used to tough going.

This … this was something else.

Louisoix snapped his fingers, and with a musical chime, the winds buffeting Thancred fell away. Thancred himself narrowly avoided landing fast-first in the mud, ending up on one knee instead. Panting, he sank back on his haunches.

“Not bad,” his … friend? Mentor? Teacher? Foster father? said. “You got much closer that time. However, I,” he jingled the bells in his left hand, “appear to be the victor once more.”

Thancred couldn’t help but grin ruefully, staring up at the string of golden bells. “Yes, Master Leveilleur,” he agreed. With a grunt, he pushed himself laboriously to his feet, until he could offer a proper bow to his sparring partner. “Maybe next time.”

The old man’s mouth quirked in a crooked smile. “Hope springeth eternal,” he agreed, sounding rather like Urianger. Both Louisoix and Thancred looked to the edge of the field, where Louisoix’s other student awaited his own duel; even from this distance, Thancred could see him fidgeting nervously.

“Hm, well, what lesson shall I impart today?” Louisoix wondered. Thancred stood at attention, waiting patiently. “I believe you’ve heard them all this point. You certainly don’t need the one about persistence in the face of failure.”

Thancred winced. Louisoix didn’t mean it as a barb, he was certain, but it landed like one nonetheless.

“No, not that one. Nor the one about the tree that bends, or the thrush that survives, or honor like an oasis in the desert.”

Louisoix dipped his chin in a nod. Thancred’s face heated, embarrassed and pleased, and he looked away. Everyone else in Sharlayan might see him a shiftless thief, and those who knew his story saw only an arrogant rogue who’d gotten his gang killed, but Louisoix knew what it had all been for. One day the Upright Thieves would stand tall again.

“No, none of that.” Louisoix pocketed his bells, and came forward to rest his hand on Thancred’s bowed head. “Perhaps I will simply say … never stop. Never hesitate. Never look back.” He thought back to the end of their duel, and imparted a bit of strategic advice: “And always be a moving target.”

E-Sumi-Yan lowered the old book as he reached the end of the passage. His students -- orphans and foundlings whom he’d helped raise since they were smaller than him, all of whom (even Nanayepi!) would now stand taller than if they weren’t kneeling respectfully -- waited in silence.

“For a time,” the head of the Conjurer Guild said, “this chapter of I-Ohok-Pota’s tale was censored from common texts, as it was believed to cast the Padjal in a dishonorable light. With it’s unearthing came much questioning of Stillglade Fane and the nature of the Light that powers our White Magic. Quite recently, there were even fears that the white mages could be corrupted and turned to monsters. It was within my lifetime, certainly.” He paused. “Perhaps not so recently, then.”

A gentle murmur of laughter trickled through the crowd. E-Sumi-Yan turned suddenly, picking someone from the crowd. “K'selh? Your thoughts?”

K'selh jumped at being so suddenly addressed. “I-- I--”

E-Sumi-Yan beckoned encouragingly. “Please be honest, K'selh. This is a safe space.”

“I … it’s only, stories like that.” K'selh paused. “They really make me question if I’m cut out to be a conjurer! I could never make a choice like that! I … I don’t mean to seem ungrateful to the Guild or the Elementals….”

E-Sumi-Yan nodded. “I understand. Of course, none of you are beholden to the Guild. We offer you this training to help you find your place in the world, not to trap you within the walls of the Fane, or the Shroud. If the conjurer’s path does not speak to you, it would be unwise to embark upon it.” He paused.

“I cannot lie,” he said, haltingly, his seemingly-boyish voice slower and darker than usual. “Such choices come often to our ilk. But we must remember that our lives are given in service to the Light and the common good. Sometimes we must let one perish in order to save the rest.” His eyes closed, and he looked very much like a child. “We do what we must, because there is no one else to do it for us.”

The pause stretched. Attempting to shake the darkness away, E-Sumi-Yan looked up, and it was by sheer coincidence that his and Talia’s gazes locked.

Talia blinked, startled, but didn’t flinch away. Unlike some of her other instructors, E-Sumi-Yan didn’t try to force her to speak in class -- he had an uncanny knack for only calling upon those who felt a need to speak and simply needed encouragement. He seemed almost as startled as she, his silvery eyes briefly unfocused, lips parting on some unheard word.

And then he blinked and looked away. The moment, like so many others before it, passed without a word.

“The next passage begins when the last left off,” E-Sumi-Yan said. He lifted the book, and continued reading.

Minfilia says goodbye to the twins and Y’shtola at Mord Souq, before she, Urianger, Thancred, and the Warriors of Darkness go their own way. Alisaie gives her a would-be casual hug, trying to hide her worry; Alphinaud stops frowning thoughtfully at her long enough to force a timid smile and wish her luck.

Y’shtola stands a bit aside, in a little pocket of shadow, blind eyes peering thoughtfully into the endless light. She beckons Minfilia closer, apart from the others.

“And have you made your choice?” Y’shtola asks, without preamble.

Minfilia glances aside, picking at a seam of her gloves. “I -- I … almost.”

Y’shtola’s eyes narrow, her expression fierce as the wind whips her hair too and fro. Minfilia says nothing more. On one hand, the urge to babble is strong -- to let all the uncertainty and agony come pouring out, to desperately hope that someone, anyone, will talk her out of her fate. On the other hand, she can already feel her chin wobbling, and knows if she says anything more she’ll start to cry.

“I see.” Y’shtola straightens. “Minfilia,” she starts, and then hesitates, brow furrowing. “No, that’s not ... I wish we knew your birth name, but I suppose it’s too late for that. And Minfilia is a good name. One you have certainly been worthy of.” She nods, decisive. “Minfilia.”

Minfilia takes a careful breath, only a little sniffle-y, and comes to attention.

“Whatever choice you make, make it with all your heart. Whatever doubts assail you, hold onto your decision with all your strength. I believe there is no end to the things you can do, if only you persist in the doing them.” Blind eyes bore into hers, seeming to peer into her small, unworthy soul. “Do you understand?”

Minfilia blinks back her tears, and tries for a smile. “Yes, Master Matoya.”

Y’shtola flinches and averts her face, suddenly sorrowful. But there’s no time to apologize; Minfilia’s destiny awaits.

“But what about you?” Minfilia cries.

Thancred unhooks his gunblade. “Keep moving,” he orders her. “Keep your eyes on your target, and let nothing stop you. No matter what you hear behind you.” He hesitates, head bowing, and for a moment Minfilia thinks she might see her noble knight weep.

He turns away, voice gone choked. “And don’t look back.”

The air is quiet and hushed, where Minfilia -- the real Minfilia, not a pretender like her -- stopped the Flood and saved them all. “Whatever happens,” Minfilia whispers to Tally and Vahn, “you mustn't interfere.”

Vahn is plainly heartbroken, expression ravaged, but he nods. It’s Tally whose brow crumples in fierce anger, who kneels and pulls her into a hug. Hard enough to hurt. Minfilia’s composure, which has carried her through so much, falters and breaks at last. For just a moment, Minfilia hides her face in Tally’s white robes -- soft white, not cold and bright like the Light that surrounds them, comfortable and worn -- and searches for the determination and cunning Y’shtola and Thancred told her she had.

My friends, comes the Oracle’s voice, the Word of the Mother, like music. Minfilia gasps, struck by the familiar melody, and turns to find Minfilia -- the real Minfilia -- descending from the air to alight on the ground. She is barefoot and smiling, and it hurts to look at her, for all that she is less bright than everything else around her. Her terrible, shining eyes linger on Tally and Vahn for a long, long moment, her lips curving in a sad smile.

“I knew I could count on you,” the Oracle says to them. And then, at last, she directs her attention to her heir. She holds out her hands.

And Minfilia -- Minfilia steps forward, timid at first, and then with greater assurance -- she rushes forward to meet her, laughing in her amazement -- they are so similar! as if Minfilia was her mother in truth, and not just in her imaginings -- and for the first time Minfilia thinks she might be able to be brave, to go out into the world and be unafraid. And she knows she has made her choice at last.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2021 #y'shtola rhul #thancred waters #wol:talia #wol:j'vahn #minfilia #ryne #i have a lot of feelings about master matoya and y'shtola #and louisoix and thancred #and ryne and her family #my fic

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

Can I request a fic for Onyx/MC involving Onyx's pregnancy cravings?

Brief warnings of past abuse. Implied past miscarriage. SPOILERS FOR ROUTE.

Written by: @evoedbd Craving

It was midday when Onyx emerged from her bedroom, all bright smiles and twinkling eyes. The sunlight played across her platinum hair, causing the soft, meadow green streaks to glisten like freshly growing life. Much like the life within her. Just a few months in and Onyx had taken to pregnancy as she took to everything. Gracefully. Beautifully. With the support of her family, the Assassins, Onyx was thus far cruising through the trimester. Sure, morning sickness was an absolute bitch, but with Cali holding her hair back every morning it wasn’t so bad. And not being able to drink copious amounts of alcohol was playing some havoc on her, but Wrath’s baking, Malakai’s uncanny ability to sniff out the best milkshakes, and Darius bringing home endless snacks and magazines from undisclosed locations more than made up for that. Even shopping with Ripley was fun, finding new clothes and materials to replace her dwindling wardrobe. Cal and Avi were horrible influences on her baby collection, both constantly accompanying her to the toy stores and bookshops. Cal had even bought a tiny little guitar, one which Avi was beginning to practice lullabies on. It was enough to melt Onyx’s heart.

She padded across the common area towards the kitchen, barefoot in a pair of shorts, swaddled in a signature Tie-Dyed hoodie. One which was not part of her usual wardrobe. She couldn’t help it. The moment her eyes had cracked open it was like a string between her and the hoodie, a magnet pulling at every sense in her body until she surrendered. She couldn’t feel at ease until the unnaturally soft material was wrapped around her until the scratchiness of worn armpits and elbows chafed at her. Until she was surrounded by that scent. Of bike oils and sand, mixed with an unnamed element that made her heart sing in contentment. It smelt so fucking good, enough that she turned her head in burrow her nose into the hood and sniffed, inhaling as much of that scent into her lungs as she could. A hint of cherry blossom sent her into a moment of sheer bliss. The hoodie was just so good. So perfect. She didn’t even feel guilty about her theft, about leaving the current Envy assassin without a jacket. It wasn’t like Cali actually needed it half the time, she was hot enough, visually and literally if you asked Onyx, as it was.

Before she could make it to the kitchen, a soft sound caught her ear. A breath. Then it played again, stemming from the couches. Onyx couldn’t help but smile, pulling the hoodie just a little tighter around her shoulders before stumbling upon the controlled chaos.

The table was a mess, covered in stacks upon stacks of hand-drawn diagrams and crisply written notes. Writing Onyx could barely understand. It didn’t take a genius to recognise Cali’s flowing concoction of lines which were meant to replicate letters, something that likely would have fit in a med school. Each stack of papers had a name at the top, one for every member of the troupe. It took a few moments before Onyx was able to make out the notes scribbled across the pages, which only made her heart swell with joy. Across them were personalised notes, each a set of instructions regarding pregnancy. Notes to Cal to watch his snark if he wanted to keep his tongue. Demands for Darius to never comment on Onyx’s growing belly under any circumstances if he wanted to remain able to act on his lust, along with a sloppy sketch of some scissors. A gentle reminder that Malakai wasn’t allowed to squish Onyx with hugs, nor take her to packed clubs. Ripley had a whole page explaining that adding honey to everything did not make it suddenly magically healthy.

Quietly, Onyx read them all, her cheeks flushed at the evident care and dedication Cali had put into them. She snickered at notes, warmings such as “Do not squish Onyx, Biceps-sarama.” Or “Do not encourage Onyx to underdress as much as you!”. Eventually, her eyes drifted back to Wraths, specifically to one page marred with blocky letters underlined thrice.

NO PUTTING RAW FISH AND/OR ALCOHOL IN CUPCAKES UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!!!

ALCOHOL + RAW FISH = NOT CUPCAKE FILLINGS

Onyx couldn’t help but laugh, dabbing at her eyes as delighted tears began to fall. Cali’s passive-aggressive notes and demanding were positively endearing, especially knowing how apologetic Cali was likely to be in person about them. Truthfully, the threats were comedic coming from the second shortest assassin. Especially for the vision laid out before Onyx.

There was Cali, sound asleep across the couch, twisted, exposed skin glowing a faint, washed-out brass in the sunlight.

Her bare feet were kicked out over the arm of the couch, a toe or two bent from repeated breaks, heel and balls of her feet callused from the blisters she’d earned riding the canyons. One chipped toenail, from a sparring accident, taunted Onyx’s inner fashionista. Made her itch to buff it out. It was only the blues and purples forming beneath the nail which gave her pause; colours which littered the fine skin across Cali’s shins, up to a spectacularly scuffed up knee. All the little sun worn scars mixed with the fresh graze, a tapestry of her determination. Mental and physical strength, which showed in the relaxed definition of her thighs. Legs which allowed Cali to balance her bike wheels upon the finest wires, let the woman flip with Onyx and play games of chase in the skies. The closest thing to wings a human could have. Twisted as she was, the waistband of her denim shorts rode low, hanging enough to expose the band of her underwear off a sharp hipbone. Low enough for Onyx to have a glimpse of strong core muscles before the simple grey shirt concealed Cali’s ribcage. Bones that could be felt, yet not actively seen. Onyx let her gaze travel slowly, taking in every bump and bruise across Cali’s muscled shoulders. That sent a bolt of pride through the dragon of the Envy Trio. Cali’s muscles had grown since they’d first met, and that growth was directly tied to Onyx’s training. To Cali wanting to stride alongside the small bombshell. Cali had grown stronger to support Onyx. To be there for Onyx. How could Onyx not let herself look? Even if it was for just a few moments? How could she feel anything but pride and admiration for the definition she was the reason for?

She didn’t even realise that she’d been literally purring until her rumbling seemed to wake the sleeping woman. Even before those deep, dark eyes opened, Cali’s lips peeled into a small smile; the meaning of radiance, like a beam of sunlight through the clouds.

“Onyx… you’re purring.” Cali noted softly, as if her sleep husky voice might disturb the quiet. Onyx swallowed. Shuddered. The rasp added to Cali’s usually sweet voice, the weight to the tones, it was unexpectedly appealing. A siren’s song calling Onyx to sleep. A tease. No… not a tease. A promise. An eventuality. An invitation. It was an invitation Onyx couldn’t resist. Cali had barely even moved her arms before they were full of a tie-dyed goddess, shielding her from the harsh world.

Onyx was a dragon, she had learned the depths of her fire in human death, thought she had understood warmth. Yet, Cali once more proved her a fool. The mystery of how Cali’s arms could accomplish a warmth that burning stone could not was beyond all science, magical and mortal. It was beyond reason and madness both. It consumed without destroying, converting fear and shame into courage and pride. It was love, a treasure beyond anything Onyx had comprehended feeling as a human, let alone as a Dragon. A simple hug, delivered in such a sleepy manner had Onyx cooing in bliss, wiggling her smaller frame into the scoop of Cali’s body. A perfect fit. Something written into the heavens, woven on looms of fate, carved by Hephaestus. Something so perfect couldn’t be an accident, no way in any hells could anything convince Onyx that Cali hadn’t been created for her. To protect and love, to offer that in return. Gods, Cali did that so well. This compassionate hurricane of a woman was a shield against the world when Onyx needed shelter. Water when Onyx had dehydrated herself shedding tears for a man who mistreated her. Yet, Cali was not immovable. She cried, she cowered and screamed in fear at times. She was fearless, showing every emotion so plainly, each a little slither of starlight Onyx greedily claimed. Cali, the saviour of Onyx’s soul, was also the greatest treasure to protect. It was befuddling how someone could be strong enough to not only need to protect, but admit they needed protecting.

“Are you hungry?” Cali questioned softly. Onyx simply let a content purr escape her, snuggling deeper into that unique warmth. Honestly, she could eat, but that wasn’t what she needed that very minute. Somehow the combined scent of oil, sweat and cherry blossom was making her entire world creep closer and closer to a standstill. Each blissful inhale had her senses settling, body relaxing in a way nothing could ever accomplish. Not a lovely bath. Not an exhausting night of lust, even with Lust’s friends. A hug. Her world boiled down to a hug… and that playful nudge to her cheek.

“I could probably fry some bacon in chocolate sauce. Maybe add some fried pickles in that Raspberry ice cream you’ve been loving the past few weeks.” This time, Cali’s suggestions earned an actual groan. Whether delight or disgust, even Onyx didn’t know. Her face had screwed up, nostrils flaring as she burrowed her forehead into side of Cali’s neck. Warm. Soothing. Dragging her back towards a land of bliss… disrupted bliss.

Onyx almost whined in frustration, comfort turning overbearing within a blink of an eye. That voice. Cali’s goddamn voice. Onyx couldn’t tell if she wanted to fall asleep to the melody, stay awake to listen as she ate every ungodly concoction her body craved or try to make Cali’s voice break with less wholesome things than snuggling. It was pulling at her, dragging her in a thousand directions until she was more frayed than the hem of Cali’s jean shorts. Loose threads Onyx realised she was twirling her fingers though. Each movement had her fingers brushing across Cali’s rich skin, dancing across the defined grooves of muscle… another realisation. Cali was flexing. No, not just flexing. She was giggling. Laughing. Shoulders shaking beneath Onyx’s torso.

“If you want to be ready to tell the others, I’m not on the menu.” She teased; her voice disappointingly clearer. Sleep had lifted, taking that romanticised rasp. Even without the gravely nature to her voice, Cali’s voice was a Siren’s song. One luring Onyx’s focus from one appetite to another. Touch reminded her of her warmed body, then voice lured her out of the beginnings of lust, back towards practicality.

“We could order Sushi.” Onyx finally suggested, cursing how her cheeks flared at the twitch of Cali’s lips. Indulgent. Admiring. Again, Onyx sighed blissfully, letting herself sink back into the welcomed embrace. Her fingers wove through Cali’s, thumb skimming the ring Cali proudly wore. The layers of twisted metal.

“The chocolate sauce is in the fridge. Or I could melt some dark chocolate.” Cali’s offer was so genuine, so utterly casual Onyx almost forgot how disgusting fish and chocolate was to anybody who wasn’t pregnant or deranged. When Onyx paused to think on it, she was sure even the most dangerous of lunatics would flee the usually vile combination. Not Cali. Every single time, Cali braved it. With a bright smile, she’d bathe her shrimp or raw fish in chocolate sauce right alongside Onyx. When the stares became too much, there was Cali, loudly proclaiming her love for the combination. Making such a spectacle of herself that Onyx’s weird cravings were forgotten.

Cali was so different to Dorran. Cali was there, eating every lunatic concoction fearlessly, ensuring it wasn’t lethal. Even going as far as to make the other trope members taste test everything before allowing Onyx to eat it. Where Dorran had tried to drown it out, Cali drowned in Onyx’s pregnancy. She made Onyx the centre of her world, of her galaxy even. Everything had Cali’s support, her enthusiasm. Even the rare arguments when Onyx felt a little too babied, which never lasted long when she heard the genuine fear in Cali’s voice. The agony held within two little words. One single line.

You died.

In that line, Onyx saw how broken Cali could become. Just how deeply their bond ran in their veins. That. Perhaps it was that intimacy Onyx craved the most. Cali, no matter how, was the only constant Onyx clung to. From her scent, to her warmth, to her voice. Her touch. Onyx never realised that cravings could be more than food, could be so consuming and subtle. Contradicting and complimentary. For so long, validation had been her desire. For somebody, anybody, to care for her as if she was worthy of it. When she’d kissed that girl in the Casino to distract a crowd, she’d never believed her deepest cravings would be sated. Yet here she was. Here they were. Just beginning to learn the true meaning of craving.

#Anonymous #lovestruck #lovestruck swm #lovestruck sin with me #sin with me #sin with me onyx #sin with me envy #onyx wren #onyx x mc #fluff #fluffy #tw: past abuse #tw: past miscarriage #sfw #scatterday

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thinkingaboutitalittle · 4 years

Text

ｔｉｇｈｔｒｏｐｅ

summary: “It’s capital, this tightrope that the two of you walk between harsh discipline and sweet indulgence.”

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: mentions of violence, red room, implied age gap-ish, it’s a little angsty? kinda hurt comfort but there’s plot

a/n: hi again! I really like the concept of this one! I hope you like it too, feedback is definitely welcome

word count: 2.2k ish

When he’d first met you, you were the antithesis to what he’d expected. Prepped with the information that you were a recruit found in one of the last scattered branches of HYDRA’S Red Room and trained to have the strength and endurance of a skilled olympian, when you’d been introduced all wide-eyed and with a bright smile that had a smear of peanut butter at its corner, Bucky was floored. Fresh from Wakanda and losing his best friend, he didn’t think it’d work, the two of you running together.

And at first he was right, things were rough. Technically, you were and still are his apprentice, obligated to attend general training and conditioning sessions with him as your guide. You’d had an impeccable persistence and the skill set that HYDRA engraved into your physicality was more than enough to get you through, but Bucky had the experience. You were strong and good at taking direction, but HYDRA had trained the instinct and critical thinking out of you, and the process of finding your footing with your newfound freedom was difficult.

There were arguments over the ungodly hours that he’d chosen scheduled for sparring sessions (“Are you shitting me Barnes? You want me to wake up at five in the morning to get decked in the face?”), about whether or not certain techniques were viable in fighting situations (“Biting into someones arm while they’ve got you in a headlock isn’t reliable option doll, especially if the arm is made out of vibranium”), and when the two of you were extra frustrated, eating habits were also up for debate (“You cannot only eat pop tarts the week before a mission!” “I’ll stop eating pop tarts the day you give Sam a compliment,”).

But eventually, when the two of you’d finally realized that your distaste for each other may have stemmed for a repressed attraction towards one another, you made it work. You Learn to fight without actually aiming to hurt the other person and you manage to communicate with one another with the exclusion of screaming matches and elongated lectures. (You also learn how to sneak into each others rooms without waking up other shield officers on your shared floor in the middle of the night, but that’s something neither of you care to define)

The two of you are sparring together late this afternoon after you’d convinced him of the fact that you’re far better suited to give him your focus after you’d fully awakened and consumed a healthy portion of your daily allotment of junk food.

“I already told you your elbows are too loose, don’t give me that shit again,”

You tighten your stance against the previously acclaimed Winter Soldier, and throw another, albeit cleaner, punch. A grunt of approval from Bucky and your movements continue to present themselves with precise stability.

“Christ, Barnes you’re stricter than my babysitters at camp HYDRA,” He smirks, appreciates the value of making light of a shitty situation, and then retorts,

“I’m prettier to look at though, huh?”

It’s capital, this tightrope that the two of you walk between harsh discipline and sweet indulgence.

You square your shoulders and dip your head in an attempt to seem more menacing, “Only in the dark, baby. I’m gonna kick your ass,”

Again he responds with a practiced snort, “Good fighters don’t reveal their strategy before they’ve done it, keep that chin up or I’m going to knock it next time you come near me,”

Somehow, amongst all the near misses and successful jabs to the stomach, a small smirk manages its way onto your face. Before you’d started to train with Bucky, fighting was a commitment you had no choice in deciding. You’d go through endless hours of getting beaten down, only to be forced back onto your feet and beaten again; bulldozed into compliance. Training with Bucky is different; dares you to test the boundaries and willingly push yourself to your limit, not because you have to but because you want to.

You solidify your strategy in your head before moving to deliver a swift kick to Bucky’s ankles. He dodges it, as expected, and plants himself on top of you, restraining your legs between his own and digging his enormous forearms into your biceps.

“I already told you, this shit won’t fly on anyone bigger than you, princess, you’re going to have to tap,” and boy, if only you’d had a body camera to record the way that his face slackens when you retaliate with, “C’mon Buck, you’re telling me it doesn’t get you off to be on top of a dame like me?”

It’s a low blow to use your unspecified status outside of the gym to your advantage, but what was it that he’d told you in your first training session? Ah yes, use whatever advantage you have to your benefit.

You were only following directions.

Quickly, you move his practically limp limbs from your body and force yourself onto his front, resting your knees atop his flesh and alloyed forearms (because goodness knows you wouldn’t be able to hold them down with your hands) and the rest of your weight on his torso. And he looks so helplessly confused in this position you can’t help yourself from speaking through a smug smile, “Never took you for a bottom, princess.”

Buckys going to crack your head like a walnut. He jerks upward to catch your head between his fists, but a sudden rush of alarms stops him in his tracks. All of the sudden, the shield compound is doused in red lights and an automated voice is eerily repeating there has been a breach in the compound, agents follow evacuation protocol. However, the warning comes late because only a few seconds after you and Bucky have detangled yourselves from each other, the doors to the training hall are bursting open with what has to be a group of wanna-be HYDRA affiliates demanding information and files about some secret mission that neither of you were a part of.

Regardless, Bucky is on his feet immediately and ushering you to stand behind his immense form, his tone gritting out a stiff, “Y/N. Behind me. Now.”. Though your developing sense of instinct is telling you that this situation is one that Bucky shouldn’t be handling alone, your feet move before your brain can catch up, eager to comply with his demands instead of challenging them.

The infiltrators are small in number but waste no time zeroing in on Bucky as soon as they realize his presence as the Winter Soldier. He pushes you into a locker, spitting out something about staying there until he handles them and direct orders, agent but you can’t help but crack the door open, fearing Bucky’s well being.

Surprising no one, Bucky can mostly handle himself against a group of middle-aged men who are scarcely trained and even more scarcely armed. However, in his struggle with one of the larger men in the group, Bucky fails to notice that one of the other Hydra members has managed to snatch a particularly large knife from his belt loop and is getting ready to dig it into his back in an attempt to save his comrade.

Emerging from the locker, you move to kick the knife out of the enemy’s hand, knocking it somewhere across the gym, and landing yourself in the middle of the brawl. In your haste, the agent swings a punch to your jaw, but you recover quickly. You knock the agent twice and before you can move to disable him further, Bucky finds his way to you and heaves the man a generous amount of yards away.

Before either of the chance to say anything to each other, the room is rushed by Shield agents searching to apprehend the HYDRA men and to find out any information regarding the infiltration.

It’s a couple of hours before you get to see Bucky again.

Between all of the shield officers asking painfully specific questions and their obnoxious insistence that things like this never happen, by the time Barnes finds you sitting in the compound kitchen, legs dangling from the center island and fingers wrapped around a lukewarm cup of tea, you’ve both had enough time to sit with previous events.

You’re ambivalent, a tricky mixture of guilt and pride making a home in the form of a lump in your throat. Part of you knows what you did was the right thing; if you’d have let Bucky get hurt, the other offender would have used the advantage to gang up on him and you’d’ve had to take on the both of them instead of just one. But there’s still a lingering part of you that feels an immense sense of shame for not wholly complying.

Maybe it’s just leftover conditioning from your time with HYDRA, the remaining indents from the ideals they’d ingrained into your mentality, but disobeying direct orders, no matter how irrelevant they may have proven themselves to be, left you with a bitter taste in your mouth and frustrating tears in your eyes. Even after training with Bucky for so long and recognizing the difference between appropriate and inappropriate times to act on your own volition, you still maneuver on a fine line between overwhelming shame and practiced action.

He moves in front of you, between your legs, and when he notices your refusal to look him in the eyes, Buck slips his thumb and forefinger under your chin lifting your misty eyes to his worried gaze. There’s a rush of bile rising in your throat that you know can only be remedied by a salve of words, “Bucky I- I’m so sorry I didn’t l-listen to y-,”

“If you finish that apology, I’m going to give you another shiner, princess,”

He stills you, maneuvering the hand that’s not holding your face to shift the tea out of your hands and then to rest on your bicep. Save for a handful of your sniffles and the soft noises Bucky makes in the back of his throat when his eyes focus on a particularly darkened or swollen segment of skin, the two of you maintain a quietness as he looks you over.

And - no matter how long he’s been fighting with you by his side and no matter how many times he’s scolded himself for feeling self-pity when others, you are in pain - this part never get easier; swallowing his pride and accepting the fact that not everyone can make it out unscathed.

He moves away from you to fish an icepack from the door of the fridge, holding it in his hand for a few seconds before setting it back in its spot and pressing his now cool metal palm to the side of your face. You sigh in relief, starting to come down from your thoughts, leaning into Bucky.

Finally, he speaks, “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you suck in a breath and he knows you’re preparing to refute his claim, so he cuts you off swiftly, “I know you think you fucked it up because that’s what they want you to think, but you acted on your instinct doll, you did good.”

Your breathing slows back down to its normal pace, and his thumb moves to wipe the tears off of your cheeks. It’s almost laughable how easily he gets you calm; how he’s managed to keep you from falling off of the tightrope and now rests on it with you, an unspoken in equilibrium. He nudges his nose to yours and smoothes a kiss to your lips, a final attempt at calming whatever stray nerves remain.

When he pulls away, you can’t help but chuckle. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Recovering with a weak smile you respond, “I get knocked twice for your ass and all I get is a little kiss?”

His smirk is cheeky as he presses another to your lips, this time deeper and more intentional, “You’re telling me this isn’t enough to get you off, princess?”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #eve wrote this #bucky barnes oneshot #winter soldier x reader #avengers #tfatws #bucky barnes x you #Bucky barnes x y/n #bucky one shot #bucky x you #bucky

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girlactionfigure · 3 years

Photo

She was alone when she died on February 7, 1965. She was 50 years old.

Before the incident happened, she had been a successful businesswoman. But after the incident, in which she suffered physical injury, humiliation, and injustice, the personal and professional repercussions were just too much. Her marriage ended, she had to close her business and move out of the city, then out of the country.

And, even after her death, just this past October 2020, a sign at the cemetery giving directions to her head stone was vandalized with “highly offensive racial slurs”, according to the Halifax Police.

What did she do “wrong”?

Like Rosa Parks, she refused to give up her seat . . . but at a movie theatre.

At a movie theatre in New Glasgow, Nova Scotia, a white ticket-seller told her “I’m not permitted to sell downstairs tickets to you people.” Desmond then refused to move to the segregated section of the movie theatre for black patrons.

She was dragged out of the theatre by police, arrested, thrown in jail for 12 hours and fined.

She is called “Canada’s Rosa Parks,” although the theatre incident occurred nine years before Parks refused to give up her seat on a city bus to a white passenger in the United States.

Her name is Viola Desmond, now a civil rights icon in Canada, who confronted the racism that Black Nova Scotians routinely faced and brought nationwide attention to the African Nova Scotian community’s struggle for equal rights.

This is part of an ongoing series on the Peace Page for Black History Month.

“Viola Desmond was born in 1914, the daughter of a middle-class mixed-race family in Halifax,” according to Parcs Canada. “When Desmond graduated from high school she worked as a teacher in Black schools, one of very few employment avenues open to her. Black women in Nova Scotia were restricted from going to beauty salons and studying beauty culture (hair-styling, cosmetics, or wig making), so Desmond attended schools in Montréal and New York. When she obtained her diplomas she opened a salon and eventually a beauty school beside her [husband]’s barbershop in Halifax. As an entrepreneur, she achieved financial independence and became a role model to African-Canadian women through the success of her enterprises, which included skin and hair care products for Black women that had previously been unavailable to Nova Scotians.

“In November of 1946, Viola Desmond was travelling on business from Halifax to Sydney, Nova Scotia, when car trouble obliged her to stop overnight in New Glasgow. She attended a local movie theatre where she encountered segregated seating rules.”

“To be a black entrepreneur was ground-breaking,” Henderson Paris, a New Glasgow town councillor and founder of the Run Against Racism, said in 2015.

“She was building her business and through this – this incident unfolded. Being the strong woman she was – she wasn’t standing for it. It was not right, and something needed to be done.”

Desmond was no stranger to systemic racism, according to Amanda Coletta of the Washington Post. When she left her teaching job to launch a career as a beautician, Desmond was forced to travel out of the province for training because beauty schools in Nova Scotia barred black people from enrolling.

“Canada had no Jim Crow-like laws, but it did have policies that enforced segregation,” said Constance Backhouse, a law professor at the University of Ottawa who has written extensively on Desmond.

The policies were “just as bad as Jim Crow,” Backhouse said, but they were written in a way that “masked” their racist intent.

Desmond was unaware that the Roseland Theatre was segregated, according to the Canadian Museum for Human Rights.

“The segregated movie theatre relegated black patrons to the balcony at the time, while floor seating was reserved for whites,” according to Global News Canada.

“Desmond was shortsighted and needed a better view, and tried to buy a floor seat, but was refused because she was black. She then bought a balcony seat (which was one cent cheaper) but sat in the floor area – until theatre staff called the police and had her dragged out,” according to The Globe and Mail.

She “was charged with tax evasion for failing to pay 1 cent — the price difference between the floor and balcony seats,” wrote the Washington Post. “Despite the theater’s refusal to sell her the more expensive floor seat, she was convicted and fined $26.”

Let us emphasize that again:

“She was charged and convicted of tax evasion – over a single penny,” wrote The Globe and Mail. “She did not have a lawyer at trial – she was never informed she was entitled to one.”

“Her arrest and conviction on spurious charges . . . concealed racial discrimination behind the arrest,” according to Parcs Canada.

“Protests from Nova Scotia’s black community and an appeal to the provincial Supreme Court proved fruitless,” according to The Globe and Mail.

“Now a symbol of the struggle for equal rights, Viola Desmond’s defiance in the face of injustice became a rallying cry for Black Nova Scotians and Canadians determined to end racial discrimination,” according to Parcs Canada.

Desmond’s defiance spurred a broader fight for racial equality that helped end segregation in the province,” wrote Coletta.

She died in 1965 without any acknowledgment of racial discrimination in her case, according to The Globe and Mail.

“It would take 63 years for Nova Scotia to issue Desmond . . . a posthumous apology and pardon,” according to Global News Canada.

“In 2010, Nova Scotia gave her a free pardon – and the black lieutenant-governor signed it into law. “Here I am, 64 years later – a black woman giving freedom to another black woman,” Mayann Francis recalled in a 2014 profile about the pardon, which called Ms. Desmond’s case a miscarriage of justice and said she should never have been charged. “I believe she has to know that she is now free.”

Desmond’s story went largely untold for a half-century, but in recent years she has been featured on a stamp, and her name graces a Halifax harbour ferry.

“More than 53 years after her death, Desmond [also] became the first black person and the first woman other than a royal to appear on the front of a regularly circulating Canadian bank note, replacing Sir John A. Macdonald, Canada’s first prime minister, as the face of the new vertically oriented $10 bill,” according to the Washington Post.

“She was an everyday person... this tiny little woman, it’s such an example of strength and determination and education and dignity, respect that was this whole little woman,” Desmond’s sister, Wanda Robson told the Cape Breton Post ahead of the first Nova Scotia Heritage Day in 2015, which honoured Desmond. Robson is the author of “Sister to Courage: Stories from the World of Viola Desmond, Canada’s Rosa Parks.”

“She laid the foundation in regards to justice and how black people were being treated in Nova Scotia. Even though it happened in New Glasgow, similar incidents were happening all over the province,” said Crystal States, an educator with the Black Educators Association and the representative for the African Nova Scotian North Central Network told The News in 2015.

“It was a breakthrough in social justice that had predated the civil rights movement in the (United) States,” States said ahead of the first Nova Scotia Heritage Day, which honored Desmond.

"At the end of the day, we're all just human beings," her sister Wanda Robson said. "We're just people. There are people with different colours, different skin shades, different hair, but at the end of the day, as I said, we are just people."

Update:

This past week, Novia Scotia issued a check to refund Desmond’s family in a symbolic gesture after 11th grade student Varishini Deochand wrote to Nova Scotia Premier Stephen McNeil asking that the province repay the court costs handed to Viola Desmond.

The court costs of $26 would amount to an estimated $368.29 by today's standards, but the province has since increased the award amount to $1,000, which was given to Desmond's only surviving family member, Wanda Robson, who chose to donate the money to a one-time scholarship at her alma mater, Cape Breton University.

"I strongly hold that one should not pay a fine for a crime they did not commit," Deochand said during a virtual ceremony.

"While we may not be able to travel back in time to right our wrongs, we can show that we care in the most sincerest of ways."

~ jsr

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

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purplesunrisefanfic · 4 years

Text

Sub!Abby/Dom!Nora Headcannons

Warnings:

Warning for lifestyle BDSM and sexually explicit content. There’s swearing and some use of a sexist slur (but only between two women for kinky name-calling reasons.) Body piercing and the strain of working as medic are mentioned. So are sub/Dom drop. There is some switching. Also, I do get increasingly gooey and hurt/comfort near the end.

Some of these got sexied up by @pinkchubbiebunnie in her post on this subject so they may look familiar ❤️

As usual no read more because the Tumblr app and Timblr mobile site SUCK. Apologies.

Now let’s get kinky:

Abby is envy about how Nora can always seem so cool and confident while she is just dripping mess so often.

Even more so because Nora can just naturally and breezily go from talking to Abby normally to talking like she owns her (coz she does) and back again as other people enter and leave earshot while Abby is always unsubtly clearing her throat whenever someone walks in.

In fact, she’s so scared she’ll accidentally call Nora Sir in front of someone else one day that she has literally planned exactly how she will make it out to be a joke just in case she needs to save face.

Abby envies this even more because she knows that Nora isn’t any less prone to feeling insecure or having lapses in confidence than she is, she’s just way better at hiding it.

Even when she really wants to fight back or be a brat, Abby just physically cannot, like her muscles just melt or rebel at even the idea of defying Nora because they know who they belong to.

Abby sometimes tries to avoid getting patched up by Nora especially if it’s not in private bc she knows she’ll be in trouble if there’s any signs she was reckless.

She feels torn about that though because even while she’s getting the look of “You know what a bad girl you’ve been and you know you are gonna pay for it” she still feels so soothed by Nora’s touch.

But Abby’s efforts to control who treats her make no difference anyhow because Nora knows exactly what she’s up to even though she doesn’t let on. Nora only lets Abby get patched up by someone else if Abby’s injuries are way minor.

The other medics figure that’s just a regular protective gf thing, which it totally is as well but it’s also about being possessive over who might be involved in any lasting/permanent marks on what’s hers.

Being in control with Abby soothes some of Nora’s work-related traumas. Her opinion as a medic is held in high regard for the most part but some soldiers are just too stubborn with medical advice. It can be pretty rough on Nora when she knows a patient of hers isn’t going to listen, no matter what she says, and will go back out too early and sometimes wind up returning dead or dying. So it’s really soothing that when it comes to the person she loves most in the world, she doesn’t have these worries.

Nora makes Abby do menial manual things quite a lot, she’s actually ambivalent about making Abby do this kinda stuff, or at least she would be ambivalent about it if it wasn’t so blatant that Abby loves just being treated like her grunt muscle.

They’re actually pretty much the same intelligence-wise, but Abby simps for how much medical and hospital logistics knowledge Nora has and just has warm fuzzies getting to be her trained pet taking orders and knowing there’s well-planned logistics but not knowing herself what they are. It’s like the opposite of being a soldier and needing to be observant, she can just be switched-off eye candy trusting in someone else.

Needless to say, Nora loves said eye candy. Abby doesn’t get to wear too much in their apartment unless it’s really cold.

She’d never admit it, but Nora low-key wants Abby to call her Daddy and hates that with what happened to Jerry she can’t ever see herself risking bringing that up with Abby.

She resents that even more bc she (correctly) feels sure that Abby would’ve absolutely loved that.

Abby can always tell, even in a busy place, whether it’s Nora or someone else snapping their fingers.

When Nora snaps her fingers, the rest of the world disappears. Like instant subspace, Abby could be next to clicker and forget all about it instant.

Nora gives the subtlest, carefully considered hints of underlying affection while seemingly objectifying Abby and it’s just exactly what her pet beefcake needs to feel that undercurrent of love while she gets off on being used.

Abby spends that much time on her knees that she sometimes forgets that Nora isn’t actually taller than her.

And not just on her knees eating Nora out (though she does that a lot) but just generally kneeling like a good girl for Sir.

Abby would physically drool over the idea of wearing a collar 24/7 if she thought about it for too long. Nora would physically drool if she looked at Abby wearing a collar for too long.

Abby is free to masturbate alone when she wants to but she’s not allowed to orgasm from it. She’s never broken that rule and she’d actually be upset if she somehow did come with Nora’s permission.

She worries it might be a little messed-up to feel this way but Nora really enjoys knowing that she’s only partner that has made Abby orgasm. Sorry not sorry Owen, you did not seem good in bed.

Abby ends up being such a good girl that Nora decides to start giving her regular maintenance punishments because Abby doesn’t like to go too long without one.

Nora is near constantly torn between how much she enjoys Abby fingers inside her versus how much she enjoys seeing the intense pining when she doesn’t let Abby do that for a while.

That’s Nora’s favourite problem to have.

Remember the Abby’s hair + rope bondage fantasy? Yeah, Nora is a pro at that.

Nora uses Abby’s braid like a leash, and tells Abby that wherever she is, anytime her hair is braided then she’s basically wearing her leash.

Abby tries so hard not to think about that on patrol, but if there isn’t any actual danger to keep her busy, she sometimes can’t help but think about it.

Abby keeps an eye out for suitable jewellery, and if she ever found some she would love for Nora to pierce her navel or one of her nipples.

When Nora gets Dom-drop Abby carries Nora in her arms so she can hold her tight and feel her strength while she tells her how much she loves her and loves their relationship. Nora feels kinda weightless with the way Abby holds her and it’s so reassuring.

When Abby gets sub-drop Nora wraps herself around Abby from behind, skin-to-skin, and leans her face in next to Abby’s. She strokes her neck and whispers praise.

They don’t switch often because they’re pretty full-on lifestyle but when they have a kind of switchy playtime sometimes where Abby gets to run riot with all her brute force strength, picking Nora up, pining her down, manhandling her. She undresses her roughly then mocks Nora for “thinking you’re always in charge when the truth is I could take you down in an instant,” then picks her up by her shoulders and holds her there so her arms and legs dangle in the air, just wanting to prove that she’s powerless. Abby enjoys getting her own back by embarrassing Nora for once, and she likes to hold their faces very close so she can spot the slight changes in the hue of her skin when she makes Nora blush. “You thought you could hide your blushes from me? I know you too well for that, darling. That pretty face of yours can’t keep any secrets from me. No more than the rest of your body. I don’t even need to look or touch to know that you’ll dripping wet for me by now. That little sting of shame burning your cheeks always makes you a needy little bitch, doesn’t it?”

When they’re having those switchy scenes, Nora gets off on denial. No-one is really sure if it’s a power play that intensifies Abby’s status as (temporary) Dom because she edges and torments Nora but never lets her come, or whether it’s actually the opposite, intensifying their background dynamic because in that respect Abby gets a lot less power when she plays Dom.

Either way, Nora finishes up blissfully satisfied about her lack of satisfaction. Even more so because the next time they play, Nora back as Dom and Abby back remembering that all the muscles in the world won’t stop her from being Nora’s little bitch, she’ll make Abby plead to be allowed to give Sir an orgasm.

Abby begs harder than she ever does for her own orgasms.

A fact with makes Nora feel like a goddess, whilst also being so much fun to rub Abby’s nose in.

“Aww listen to little Abby beg just to please me. She likes to think she’s so strong with all that time in the gym. But no amount of time keeping up that facade will change the reality, Abigail. Deep down, you’re no big, strong brute, just a helpless little girl. My helpless ickle pet, so desperate for approval you’d do anything to please me, wouldn’t you?”

Abby melts then admits Nora is right.

Then Nora tells Abby only one of them of them gets to come tonight and makes Abby decide who it is.

She always chooses Nora.

And never regrets it.

And in amongst all kink of it, that makes Nora feel so nurtured.

Fair warning: this is where it becomes obvious that FEELINGS are my ultimate kink onto which all other kinks collapse...

Yeah, there’s that intense thing where it’s like the way a sub can adore you and nurtures you that makes it so much easier to be strong and tough than it would otherwise be, and dealing with everything in that world and all the injuries Nora and having to be strong with all the horrors, it’s like it’s easier for Nora to be strong in all the ways she needs to just to live that life.

They like doing little things to look after each other because they both know the feeling where they are assumed to be super tough and don’t need to be nurtured but ofc they need and deserve softness.

This ship makes me wish I had the words to explain how all the kinky stuff is low-key so soft imo.

Abby doesn’t get into much trouble but one way she sometimes does is being too much of an overprotective gf when other people are involved.

Oh and Dom or not, Nora is still little spoon and sleeps 1000% better for it.

Hope y’all liked these. AMA (esp anything kinky) about Abby/Nora or Abby/Ellie or other ships I ship because I have the feels.

#abby anderson #nora harris #abby x nora #my hcs #cw #a.s.s. shipping taskforce

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yukiwrites · 3 years

Text

Mages, Sensitive about their ages

Thanks for the support as always @xpegasusuniverse! This was so much fun to write, I hope you like it!

Summary: Back in their home worlds, Lysithea, Hayato and Ricken all had to deal with similar circumstances regarding their ages. That didn’t stop after they arrived in Askr, but now, perhaps, things could go differently...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

The order of Heroes was easily the most diverse part of Askr -- with what amount of Heroes hailing from all sorts of backgrounds who also bore strikingly distinct personalities. There was always something interesting happening; be it new discoveries, friendships or even conflicts.

However, Heroes with similar personalities and circumstances were bound to be summoned and drawn to one another as well, though through different situations that were not always pleasant to witness.

At that very moment, three similar discussions were happening at the training grounds’ vicinity. On one side, Claude was using Lysithea’s head as an armrest, snorting at the girl’s squirms as she tried to push him away.

“How many- ugh, get off me- how many times must I tell you NOT to use my head as an armrest! Could it be that you can’t take this whole situation we’re in seriously?!” Lysithea used all of her strength to push her classmate’s arm off, but he was much stronger than he looked -- and even if he did look the part, physical strength wasn’t Lysithea’s forte.

“C’mon, what’s there to be mad about? I thought you were a mature lady who wouldn’t mind lending a helpful hand -- or head -- to an exhausted ally in need.” The taller boy muffled a laugh as he peeked under his arm to Lysithea’s increasingly red face.

She puffed her cheeks and pointed her index straight to his nose. “Look here, you- I know what you’re trying to pull here and-”

On another side, another pair walked and bickered -- or one should say, one was bickering while the other was laughing.

“You know the BEST part of having been summoned to this strange, strange land, Hayato? I’m free from your magic! You can’t throw anything at me with the intent to hurt or push me away due to the summoning contract.” Azama threw his head back in laughter, enjoying this new freedom of being able to pester Hayato whenever he pleased without worrying about being blown away by a tornado.

The boy covered both ears with his hands, groaning loudly. “Who’s the kid here now, Azama? Between the two of us-”

“AHA, you said it!”

“No, wait-”

Yet on another side, another boy threw a complaint to his ally.

“Robin, I’m telling you stop pestering me!” Ricken stomped across the training grounds, being followed by an amused yet worried tactician. “Yes, I had breakfast, yes I brushed my teeth and- wait, why am I even explaining myself to you? I’m a full fledged Hero and I’m gonna prove to everyone that I can hold my own!”

“Wait, your hat’s all crooked, Ricken. Here you go, let me help.” The tactician patted the young mage’s shoulder before stepping in front of him to adjust the comically large hat as the boy grew increasingly redder.

“For the last time, I’m not a child!” Three different voices resonated at the same time, echoing one another to the point of startling their companions into looking around and noticing the similar situations happening around them.

The first one to react was Azama. “Oh, oh, ohohoho! So you had your little young’un friend and your widdle girlfriend here too, Hayato? Oh, this is a field day.”

“Oh my, that boy really does look like you, Ricken. Look, he even has the same hair colo-”

“BOY? Am I to be insulted by those whom I don’t even know?!” Hayato hissed, much like a kitten being cornered by two bigger animals, as he looked from Robin to Azama.

“What did you just say?! Widd- Girlfri-” Lysithea stuttered, pointing a shaky index at Azama, completely forgetting Claude’s arm on top of her head. “I’m going- I’m going to-” Magical energy started to gather around her, startling her classmate a step away from her.

“Wow, her hair’s floating- her eyes are getting all glowy-” Ricken narrated, enjoying the frankly obscene amount of power coming out of a single girl.

Robin flinched, immediately pulling Ricken back and yelling to Azama. “Duck! If this hits you, you’re toast!”

But the monk was unfazed. “What can she do? The contract is absolute! Believe me, I’ve been in much more dangerous situations than at the other side of a little girl’s wrath, hah!” He sneered, slapping Hayato’s back right after. “You two sure suit each other, don’t you? ‘Magical prodigies’ is what they’re calling these days, right?”

“Oh, buddy, that one wasn’t cool,” Claude muttered as cold sweat ran down his back. Azama had just pressed two very dangerous buttons on Lysithea.

“Prodigy? Don’t mock me!” The girl’s feet floated off the ground as she lifted her hand, entirely able and willing to shoot the strongest of her Dark Spikes magic on that man, if only as a warning. “The contract prevents us from DIRECTLY harming each other, yes, but it says nothing of falling debris, does it now?” She smirked as she looked up to the place Azama was standing under -- a column that held part of the ceiling of the open grounds.

The color left Azama’s face. “Whoops-”

“Hold your staff, priest -- you will need it!” Lysithea moved her hand to release the magic, but something caught her from behind -- from under her armpits -- and lifted her like one does a misbehaving kitten.

“Make a run for it!” Claude held Lysithea back, breaking her concentration as the power swirling around her popped as though a mishandled balloon.

“No need to tell me twice!” Azama held his staff and dashed away with a speed Hayato had only seen a few times.

“Let me- unhand me this instant, Claude!” Lysithea kicked her feet and struggled as Claude simply lifted her up like an infant, though he wore a disapproving frown.

“Alright, I’ll put you down, but I need to be straight with you, Lysithea.” His tone suddenly changed as Lysithea’s feet touched the ground. “I know that guy went overboard and all, but if I hadn’t stepped in, you would’ve destroyed half of the training grounds! If you don’t want to be called a kid, then don’t act like one when someone does something you dislike.”

“What do you know about acting properly?! That man offended me and I am in my entire right to demand reparations!”

“Hey, arguing while your head’s hot will only make you yell nonsense, young lady.” Robin approached beside a bewildered Ricken, taking Claude’s side. “Azama can be a difficult character to handle, but I must agree with Claude on this: you have no right to destroy a facility that not only everyone uses but that also belongs to a completely different kingdom than yours.”

“Well, not that it would’ve been okay if it were back home, either, but the Monastery does get pretty beaten up sometimes from the magical explosions and stuff…” Claude scratched his cheek, shifting his gaze from the tactician to his classmate. “Anyway, food for thought, kiddo. Don’t go exploding anybody here, you hear?” He ruffled Lysithea’s hair before jumping away under her increasingly loud hisses.

“Get away from me!” She took two steps back, panting in rage. “How dare both of you lecture me on something you have no understanding of! I have complete control of my magic and I would have only used it to scare that annoying man! I’m not some stupid child that destroys things in the middle of a tantrum, I’ll have you know!” She shouted, the volume of her voice not really matching her short size. “And you don’t even know me, so refrain from directing your words to me!” She pointed to Robin, who immediately raised both hands in defeat.

“Maybe we’ll be the targets this time. What do you say about a tactical retreat?” Robin snorted under a smirk, stealing a glance at Claude, who nodded while wearing a similar expression.

“Couldn’t have said it better! Bye, children, don’t break anything without adult supervision, alright?” He winked before sprinting out of the place with Robin in tow, their chuckles echoing through the corridors.

“COWARDS! Come back here, you- you- ughh!” Lysithea stomped her foot on the ground to release her frustration, breathing heavily.

“Whoa, that was so cool!” Ricken approached without restraint, his eyes sparkling with respect. “You made all three of those bullies run away with their tails between their legs with only your magical energy! How did you do that? You seem to be the same age as me, but you have so much more magic…”

“If you are about to say that I am a prodigy, I suggest you swallow those words back!” She lashed out at him without missing a breath, her eyes still burning with rage.

“Why would you say that? Being called a magical genius isn’t an insult.” Hayato crossed his arms and lifted his chin.

“It is an insult to all the hard work I put into acquiring my knowledge!” She huffed, shaking her head to put her thoughts in order. “I won’t allow people who only see me for my age to tell me I’m ‘talented’ and call it a day! I worked hard to be where I am and if anyone tries to disregard that, they’ll face the pointy end of my Dark Spikes!”

Hayato scratched his chin, pondered on Lysithea’s words for a beat and nodded. “Well said. I can certainly relate to those feelings, though I am naturally talented on top of a hard worker.”

“Humph, good for you, then.” She looked away from him to the eager Ricken beside her. “What’re you looking at? Are you also ‘naturally gifted’ and snobby?”

“Snob-” Hayato flinched as Ricken shook his head and smiled.

“Uh, not at all! I’m actually fairly ordinary, so knowing that you got that strong by hard work alone is amazing! Especially since I can understand how it feels to be treated like a kid despite being able to hold my own.”

Lysithea let out her breath, finally calming down. “That’s good. I’m sorry for speaking harshly to you just now, I was still a bit on edge.”

“That’s completely okay!” Ricken smiled broadly. “Hey, can I stick with you from now on? I wanna learn more magic to prove myself to everyone, and you’re a shining example I want to follow!”

“As long as you don’t hold me back, I don’t mind helping you here and there, sure.” Lysithea nodded, then looked at Hayato. “Are you gonna keep staring at us or do you have something to say?”

The young diviner frowned deeply, but then shook his head instead. “... No, I was actually going to ask the same thing as Ricken -- since the three of us all share similar circumstances on top of being mages, I figured we could learn from each other.”

“That’s not a bad idea as long as we’re all bettering ourselves.” Lysithea threw her hair back as she started to walk out of the training grounds. “Merric’s magic class is about to begin, so shall we head out?”

Hayato and Ricken exchanged glances before nodding. “Yeah, let’s go!”

#feh #fire emblem heroes #hayato fire emblem #lysithea fire emblem #ricken fire emblem #my writings #yuki's commissions

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johnsmaton · 3 years

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Increase your Surfing With Thought

"Energy and thought work increases goal attainment even more than physical work alone. Physical is easily the most visible, however it is merely the final stage." surf print

Alright, so you have have a move your really being affected by so that you consider the "how to" page inside a surfing magazine and yep there it really is...stoked! They break the process down for you into steps; "crouch, touch water, extend out in to the lip, grab, spot the landing" and boom you have done it. That's great, your amped to acheive it, you paddle out and attempt a couple of but no luck. You imagine some negative stuff regarding it and a belief gradually builds up in your thoughts. "I can't do airs or cutbacks or turns etc" You'll keep trying and seeking the move but you have that limiting belief there and each time you fail it gets stronger. "I can't do them". It may seem I merely need to work with my technique more, practice harder, or break it back but if you actually want to see some change you firstly need to overcome that negative belief that is stopping you moving forward from improving.

As Surfing is really an engaged, from the moment activity its pretty challenging to consider relocating as different stages of technique, it occurs so quickly anyway and being preoccupied with technique often stiffens you up and will really go ahead and take fun away from a surf.

I'm not saying 'how to' advice is really a total waste of time, or you do not need to think of technique in any respect, rather I am going to suggest a process or two which will work on those limiting beliefs and complement the tactic work.

The important thing to improving your surfing is getting a balance between physical practice and work (visualization and belief work). Should you just sit down and meditate or visualize yourself busting new moves without you go around and surfing I would not think you will note much progress. Likewise, if you just practice the move every wave until your blue in the face without addressing what negativity is running using your thoughts. That kind of obsession will not produce instant results either. This is the holistic approach; you start the energy work and attain a state to surf with belief, passion, and confidence. You visualize yourself completing the move and make up an excellent feeling regarding it. After this you act, the power work gives you an opportunity but to complete the training you should practice, this is how the transformation takes place, in water. I really believe until this will speed up your learning curve and it'll definitely enable you to have more pleasurable within the ocean!

"When I used to be a kid...I still do it all the time...taking a look at a wave and mind surfing it you already know, I've always visualized the way i want to ride waves. I've always thought since I was young that we want to be in a position to surf waves generate income see waves ridden over the internet."

Kelly Slater - 9 x World Champion

I've separation these ideas into two different areas; overcoming bad surfs, and learning new moves. surf illustration

Overcoming "Bad" Surfs- turning them around

Why do you surf? Whether for entertainment, in order to connect with nature, or relax, I'm certain you have pretty similar reasons revolving around a great feeling, positive energy. However is this forever the situation? I believe some individuals can say yes to the question but I have come across lots of frustration outside in water and I understand that many of us don't always obtain the intended good feelings from your sessions. What exactly causes these bad surfs, what stands in the way of our fun? It may be because we don't live up to our very own performance expectations, maybe it's too crowded, or it will be because other people surfing superior to us and that we want to do what they're doing! We can easily just accept these bad surfs, or we could understand that our experience of the lake, bad or good, is more about what is going on through our heads on the market, as an alternative to what exactly is actually happening within the lineup or for the waves.

I think it's pretty ridiculous once i look back at some of the bad surfs I've had. I have already been in tropical places with perfect waves, domestic hot water, only friends around and somehow found myself not having fun, oblivious for the beauty around me. It wasn't because of that situation in any respect; it turned out all in my head. Which is a good thing though, when it was the specific situation that caused bad surfs there'd be nothing we will do with that, we would be powerless. These days we understand it's in your heads, and that we can change what bounces around for the reason that thick skull of ours! The power is at us, we could change dozens of bad surfs to great ones!

Now, no doubt you've turned a negative surf to a doozy before, albeit unconsciously. You're around creating a horrible time, sitting there catching no waves, perhaps you just fell off on a good wave and then you sat there with a negative chain of thought running rampant "I just blew my chance then...I can't get another wave now...I usually fall off after i try that move..."

Having those kinds of thoughts occurring, obviously you aren't going to be having an excessive amount of fun! You most likely feel tense and restricted and that will not result in you surfing your very best or paddling energetically for waves. Then again miraculously a wave appears before you no one is around. You manage to surf rid of it as well as the buzz of that one good wave changes your attitude completely. Your ideas be positive. Abruptly you're paddling around confidently, catching loads of waves, surfing to your full potential, having a great time.

However, for every single bad surf which you have turned around, you might have perhaps a few where that magic wave hasn't come and you have paddled in feeling a bit down using the whole thing, you didn't get the positive experience you paddled out for initially. That's where you need to assume responsibilty for your own personel thoughts and turn the negative right into a positive, realize the problem isn't problem.

How do we do this? To begin with, you should steer clear of the thoughts which might be currently creating your bad experience. In many instances you will find these brain is determined by weaknesses and fears e.g. I cannot surf in my backhand or That's not me gonna catch any waves using this crowd. The truth is weaknesses will be in the past and all fears have to do with an imagined future, so get back to the current moment in addition to their grip on you weakens. A great way to do this is always to look around, really look at the waves, how amazing these are, they've traveled a large number of kilometers to get here, look at the scenery, the trees, the headland, really feel the sun and rain, the lake on the skin, and become grateful that you will be playing in the ocean.

Now that you have those mental poison and images from your head, you have to put good quality thoughts in place of them. How about we use a think, what can be the right thoughts to own?

Imagine you simply rode an incredible wave along with your surfing felt better than it ever has before. An amount you be considering? Your attention would most likely be on your strengths and desires e.g. "I'm surfing real well, I'll land that move next time". What we should focus our attention on expands so thinking about that which you need to happen is key. You might be also apt to be very focused on the actual moment after an exciting ride, experiencing and enjoying the scenery, the water, at one together with the whole experience. Really recall in detail how you felt in a past good surfing experience. How did your system feel? Strong? Flexible? Energized? How did you paddle? Confidently? Aggressively? The fact that was in your head? Positive thoughts? No thoughts? Really attempt to recreate that very same positive feeling.

As an example, you may think that a paddling machine, one's body light and energized, already anticipating how good your following ride will feel, your board slicing through the water with speed, excited to try a move you haven't done before.

Connecting with nature by spending waiting for between sets swimming underwater, or exploring the headland is the one other good way to generate some positive thoughts. However put it into practice, the only goal is you generate thoughts that happy to you personally.

This method may take a little time to develop so practice it and extremely get the good feelings flowing through you. Sometimes the negative opinions thinks too powerful to get over such as the give up, really target the nature near you and be grateful, you'll find the energy! Sometimes the mental poison could be more subtle and hard to identify. If this is the truth for you personally, observe yourself. The next occasion you surf just quietly listen to what is happening through your mind. Is it negative or positive? Is the attention on your weaknesses and fears, maybe strengths and desires? The more aware you become of the thoughts, the harder it will be possible to find the ones that provide you.

You can even use affirmations or positive statements to assist focus the mind, e.g.

- Good waves always come to me - My surfing improves with each and every wave - Thx to stay in the ocean

Just uncover what matches your needs, what keeps your mind on the positive side. Watch how are you affected, surfing will end up a lot more rewarding in your case!

Learning New Moves

It is usually great for feel your surfing is improving. One of the primary feelings is pulling off a move you've never done before! However sometimes you might find yourself trying so difficult to behave new but it just won't happen. This really is another time when it's best to utilize power of mental performance in addition to the physical energy you have been throwing in it. If you were trying the move for quite a while with no success it's wise to break it on to two stages; clearing the blockage, then visualizing completion.

Step1 - clearing hindering believes

This stage clears the backlog of thoughts you've got in regards to the move and your capability to get it done. If, as an example you are hoping to do a backhand air and you've got already attempted it 50 times without landing it, your not likely looking for it with the exact same enthusiasm while you did the initial few times. The thoughts you might have from all of these failed attempts can hang over you prefer a cloud and cause more frustration. We have to get rid of this cloud and also to do that we must identify the thoughts which might be blocking the sun's rays. Contemplate these questions, exactly what do I do think and feel before I aim the move? Think about following a failed attempt? Will i take into consideration a few things i did wrong or things i did right? Only think of or attempt to picture myself doing the move today, what feelings arise then?

With one of these answers you could start to see what's stopping you from proceeding.

Here are the backhand air example again in terms of the above questions. So before the move I think "I can't do these but I'll just try it", and "My feet will slip over board". After it' think "I can't do them, my method is wrong", I paddle out of the home feeling bad about my surfing. When I think about the move I feel frustrated and unconfident, I do think my strategy is way off, I doubt I could improve it.

Given that we've identified those hindering thoughts we can advance. It takes discipline and practice but we stop giving our energy to those unhelpful thoughts and hang the vitality into some thing useful and positive.

Prior to going to another step, look at a baby that is certainly learning how to walk. If it falls down this doesn't happen concern yourself with just what it did wrong, or whether its technique was correct, plus it doesn't put on the error. It is aware that the training what food was in the method, the mistakes won't need to be analyzed, it focuses all energy on the next attempt and expenses into it! Always try to keep in mind that you learn something on the failed attempts instinctively. Rid yourself of any hindering thoughts and know you can achieve anything you give attention to.

Step # 2 -visualizing the specific move

We have now all this energy which we now have claimed away from negative opinions, feelings and also over analyzing our mistakes and technique. That alone will boost your surfing, but if you channel this energy into supporting yourself, you will be moving toward pulling that new move. We are able to do this with visualization.

Firstly we have to obtain a strong visual image of just what the move looks like. Watch a DVD or look at a magazine, get the move and take it in. Hit slow-mo if you'd like, soak up the tactic but don't keep worrying about it, just absorb it with full awareness.

Now, go somewhere quiet and relax, close up your eyes and imagine you're going surfing at the local break. Try to be as realistic as you can, think about the sound with the waves, give an impression of the ocean, how the water feels. Imagine yourself catching a wave and notice the sensation of riding it, then when you are ready visualize the move. Imagine the actual way it would feel, your system flowing over the movements, your board firmly beneath your feet, your excitement as you complete it perfectly. If you think any negativity coming up that's ok, allow it pass and check again, all you are doing gets the sense of completion. There could be a certain area of the move you typically damage, follow it before you see yourself flowing through that movement with perfect technique. Visualize every last detail so it becomes alive. When you have a fantastic feel for the move, try visualizing it from another woman's perspective, just like you are watching yourself surf. Increase the risk for scene as realistic as is possible again, see yourself catch a wave, surfing confidently and completing the actual required move effortlessly.

Do these visualizations regularly, they're going to build confidence and a a sense possibility in your surfing. You will soon be approaching the move with full commitment and believing that you're going to ensure it is. Previously you could have been passing it on your very best self but the negative thoughts were sabotaging your efforts, meaning your very best was below 100%. Congratulations, you will be running at 100%, you'll completely expect success, and I bet you will observe some drastic improvement, in both your surfing and the volume of fun you will have.

Visualization alone isn't enough though, so it's once again time heading to the water again and also have awesome. Practice enthusiastically, transformation happens through action. As said before, affirmations are another technique which you can use to check the visualizing. These are generally particularly useful when you are out in the river, they remind one to focus on the positive side. Revisit the questions from step one. What pessimism have you identify? Get those negative opinions swap them around in order to create your individual affirmations.

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Appealing To Better Judgment (SpicyHoneyMustard, lemon)

Summary: In the aftermath of the attack, Rus has some time to himself.

Tags: SpicyHoneyMustard, Fontcest, Fellcest, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Established Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LEMONY GOODNESS!!

Sequel to:

Showtime

Secret Garden

A Judicious Amount of Effort

Musically Inclined

Lest You Be Judged

Solo Act

~~*~~

Read ‘Appealing To Better Judgment’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It could more properly be called brunch than breakfast, Edge supposed, when the meal was riding on the border of noon, even if he’d started cooking closer to dawn.

That was when he’d left Rus and Red alone in their wide bed, too agitated to sleep any longer and not needing as much rest as they did besides. Edge dressed in silence, coming out to the kitchen. He put on his apron without even a recipe in mind and simply started cooking, infusing each dish with as much healing magic as it could take.

None of them had eaten since yesterday morning and Edge suspected when Rus woke, he’d need food and healing both, as much as Edge could coax into him.

Edge made plenty, choosing both sweet and savory. Red would eat anything that was put in front of him and Edge wasn’t sure what Rus might want so it was best to be prepared. Batter for waffles was chilling in the refrigerator and a hearty soup made with homemade noodles simmered on the back of the stove. Hot rice was waiting in the cooker, needing only a raw egg vigorously stirred into it until the grains were glossy and a splash of soy sauce.

To finish was a plate of small fluffy cakes ready to be drizzled with honey, each topping with a variety of fresh fruit. All of it delectable, an attempt to temper nutrition with treats that might entice Rus when his appetite might be lagging. He needed to eat but his desire for food sometimes ebbed after a long possession, leaving him picking listlessly at his plate.

That was something Edge was trying to avoid today by offering plenty of options. What Rus needed was plenty of food, rich with healing magic and not only Rus. Red would be worn out yet from the expending so much magic yesterday in the attack and then spending the night dealing with Rus’s helpless demands. Edge already ate, shoring up his own reserves for anything that might be required of him; food, protection, comfort, even more sex.

He couldn’t keep the world outside away forever, but he could give them this.

There was no way to tell how Rus would be when he woke. Edge didn’t have a measure for anything like the last day. In his experience, the Judge only manifested fully for a Judgement. Truthfully, Edge did not know what standards needed met to call for a one, but couldn’t be as simple as trying to murder the vessel or else other Judges would have done the same during past assassination attempts. Not every crime called for a Judgement and even with all Edge’s training and time as Chosen, he’d never heard of a Judgement happening outside the hall, whether it was in New Home or the modified corner office in the Embassy

He’d certainly never heard of the Judge fucking their Chosen. None of his teachings indicated that would even be a possibility and the memory of being pressed against the elevator wall, of the Judge staring at him, through him, their gaze plunging into the depths of his soul, the surge of power as he was taken—

Edge shook the memory away, focusing on giving the simmering soup a stir. It was over and right now Rus needed him just as much as he had the night before, if for very different reasons. Now was the time for Rus to recover and regain his physical strength before the Judge needed to manifest again. Edge was far less worried about being fucked against a wall than he was at Rus’s appearance early this morning. Even asleep he’d seemed fragile, his pale bones chalky rather than luminescent in the darkness of their room and his physical energy drained even as his magic levels slowly rose yet again.

An unexpected knock at their door made Edge’s own magic flare unconsciously. Yesterday’s attack left his instincts raw and ready, but there were passing few Monsters who had the clearance to even exit the elevator at their floor, much less make it through all the security Checkpoints

A glance at the cameras showed the Queen waiting, her own guards standing a fair distance back. Unacceptable; he should have had warning that they were approaching long before they ever made it to the door. That was a discussion to have with Red when he awoke.

That did not change the fact that she was here and there were very few reasons she might come directly to their door. Almost, Edge wanted to scream at the unfairness of it, to stamp his foot like a child and refuse to open to her. Rus wasn’t ready, he was exhausted, he needed his rest and another manifestation right now might—

But Rus knew what was expected of him; he’d made his vows and so had Edge. He wouldn’t thank Edge for keeping Toriel away, would likely be furious with him for overstepping. Rus could not be held back when he didn’t wish it and neither could the Judge.

It was a poor satire, Edge supposed, that after spending most of his life eager to join the guard, to protect the Judge and King, that he would be here now, wishing in the privacy of his own thoughts for a chance to steal Rus away, to keep him from anyone but Red and himself. Ridiculous, unworthy thoughts for any guard, much less a Chosen. Even if there were a way for him to secret Rus out of the building, his love would never agree to go with him and neither would Red. His brother would likely be deeply disgusted at the very idea of it.

Edge couldn’t steal Rus away, couldn’t selfishly keep Rus for him and Red alone. He couldn’t.

All he could do was open the door.

Edge bowed to the Queen even as he kept a wary eye on her entourage. “Can I help you, your Highness?”

Her smile was gentle, wry, and Toriel could not read a Monster’s soul, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t tell what was on one’s mind. “Good morning. I’m not here about a Judgement, I only wanted to speak with you about yesterday, Edge.”

Edge did not allow even a flicker of his relief to show on his face. “Come in, your Highness.”

Her team made no attempt to follow as she stepped over the threshold and the moment the door was closed, she asked without preamble, “How is Rus?”

“He’s sleeping right now,” Edge said. He headed back to the kitchen to make sure nothing would burn without his attention, gesturing the Queen to their sitting area. “I can’t begin to conjecture about his state of mind, but his body is exhausted.”

Toriel nodded. “I won’t ask you to wake him,” she sighed heavily and sat. The sofas were large enough even for her bulk and Edge deliberately did not think of having Rus lovely and naked in his lap not two days ago in the very spot she chose. “I’m quite sure he needs all the rest he can get.”

“I would agree.” Edge reached for the kettle. “Would you like some tea, your Highness?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

It was unexpected and Edge only hesitated briefly, "We do." His brother kept a small stash of liquor for the rare indulgence. Rus never drank, saying that his head whirled enough. He did occasionally steal a sip from Red’s glass, saying he missed it sometimes, his days of overindulgence from Before.

Edge dug the bottle out from one of the cabinets, bringing it and a pair of glasses to the coffee table. Toriel took the bottle, pouring out a splash of the dark brown liquid into both without so much as examining the label. She tossed it back, grimacing, then poured herself another. “Two of the guard are dead,” she said. “The healers are still working on another. He may yet survive, if the Angel wills it.” She looked up from her glass. “Will you tell him?

“If he asks.” And if he didn’t, Edge would hold that information until he dusted.

She nodded wearily. “They’re getting bolder.”

“Yes.” This was the third attack in as many months and the closest yet to Rus. The guard was spread thin and their ranks might well be compromised. It was incredibly frustrating and even more humiliating to come to the surface world and discover that the danger was not from the Humans but from their own kind.

Curious that while not all of the dissidents from the previous attacks died in the attempt, none of them had been Judged. The Queen could call for a Judgement on anyone, it was her right, and Edge wondered briefly why she hadn’t. She’d not asked for the Judge for those who initiated the last attack and instead called for their execution immediately after what Edge could only assume was a very thorough interrogation. Edge also hadn’t been called for, but his brother had, and the night after his return, Red spent an inordinate amount of time between Rus’s thighs, riding him until he was hoarse from pleading and Red’s shoulder blades were a mess of fine scratches from Rus scrabbling to hold on.

Toriel took another swallow from her glass, staring into the depths as she said, softly, “I must confess, I would have given almost anything for Rus to not have been Chosen as Judge. To be honest, I would never have expected it to be him, not after his brother.” She swirled the remaining liquor in her glass. “It’s so uncommon for more than one member of a family to be Chosen, but here was Rus and then you and your brother came right after.” She looked up, meeting Edge’s gaze pensively. “There was always a preference for skeletons in both Judges and Guards. Your kind is strong and there are so few of you now. Perhaps with your numbers so low, there were few options.”

Her regard made Edge shift uncomfortably. He had no desire for the Queen’s confidence outside of how it affected Rus. Skeleton Monsters were few, it was true, and fewer still who could be in the guard. “Speaking of skeletons, how is Blue?”

If Toriel had an issue with the subject change, she didn’t show it. “He’s doing well,” Toriel said, “all things considered. He has a house of his own now in the Refuge with the others who don’t want to live in Ebott proper. Since he’s left the guard, he’s taken up gardening. His flowers are quite lovely.”

"Rus misses him." Edge only knew Blue only by reputation, a former guard and Chosen. He’d survived the coup, but not unscathed. Edge saw him once in the direct aftermath of it all, when he came into the throne room with his unit to cough on the dust still heavy in the air. Blue was one of the few still alive, or at least what was left of him.

Rus spoke of him, not often, but when he did it was always with a certain desperate longing that Edge understood all too well. When Red joined the guard, he’d been alone for close to two years before being able to join himself and then in only a few short months, he’d been Chosen alongside him. He and his brother would never be apart in life again. Unlike Rus and Blue.

“I know,” Toriel said. Her gaze was very nearly admonishing, whether it was for that comment or simply asking about Blue at all. “But a former Chosen can’t be reunited with the current Judge, you know that.”

“I do,” Edge said stiffly, resisting the urge to snarl that he hardly needed a lecture on etiquette from her. He abided by the laws of the Chosen daily, from the moment he woke until the time he drew Rus back into their shared bed at night, no matter how he felt about them.

She went on, obliviously, “Rus should take comfort in the fact Blue survived at all. None of the others did, including the Judge themselves.”

That felt entirely too much like a scolding, making Edge bristle. Rus did take comfort in it, but he should be allowed to miss his fucking brother. He’d lost him once to the guard and then again when he himself was chosen as Judge. In two years, the only and last time Rus saw his brother was in the hospital before he regained consciousness. By the next day, the last host succumbed to their injuries and Rus woke in the morning an entirely different person than the one who’d lain down for what he thought was only a night’s sleep.

Something of his irritation must have shown on his face. Toriel’s expression softened, “I’m sorry if that seems cold, my memory of the event is not a pleasant one, particularly with the ripples of the repercussions are still effecting us.”

That was undeniably true. Some still blame the Judge for betraying Asgore, dissidents who thought that war with the Humans was the only path and that Toriel was a traitor to the crown.

They were fools, all of them. They were the true traitors, not to the crown, but to the Angel herself. The true loyalty of the Judge was to the Angel and the Maker, not any ruler, and if They chose Toriel as their leader, then she was the rightful heir to the throne. Those Monsters, those so-called Acolytes of Asgore were the ones who strayed from the path and Edge would see them all as dust before they could lay a finger on the hem of Rus’s robes.

That was a promise he made to the Angel and to himself, sworn on his own soul.

Toriel heaved herself to her feet, setting her empty glass next to the bottle. “I doubt the warning is necessary, but you and your brother should have a care the next few weeks. Things will get worse before they’re better, I think. I can feel it in my soul.”

“Of course, your Highness,” Edge said crisply. He started for the door even before she did, more than ready for her to leave their home. Their sanctuary, such as it was.

There was a certain sadness to her smile, but she obeyed his unspoken demand and followed him to the door. “Let him know I stopped by?” she asked, quietly. “I miss my friend.”

“I will,” Edge agreed, and he would. But perhaps tomorrow, once Rus was more himself and no other.

He secured the door behind her, watching on the security feed until she and her entourage made their way back to the elevators. Then he walked back up the table to pick up the other glass and swallowed it down. The burn of expensive whiskey was no different to him than cheap moonshine, both were equally foul, but he needed something to steady his agitated nerves.

“is she gone?”

Edge turned around to find Rus peeked out from around the corner to the hallway that led to their bedroom, all wide eye lights and worry. The sight of him, healthy and alive, was more settling then any liquor could possibly be.

“Yes,” Edge said gently, “It’s safe.” He held out a hand to his love, even as he scolded lightly, “You should still be sleeping.”

Rus slipped around the corner and Edge sighed in fond irritation to see he was in his bare feet on the cold floor. His feet weren’t the only part of him bare, he was only wearing one of Edge’s button-ups, shamelessly hanging open overtop his bones and managing to be simultaneously too big for his shoulders and too small for his height. The hem skirted around his pelvis tantalizingly, alternatively baring and concealing. Edge never left his clothes on the floor which meant Rus had to bypass his own clothing to get it from the closet. Comfort clothes, Rus told him once, wearing Edge’s clothes felt like being held in his arms. That and Rus knew that Edge liked to see him in them, deliberately showing off both his nakedness and Edge’s claim to him like the brat that he was.

He caught Rus around the hips and dragged him down onto one of the sofas, the one Toriel hadn’t been sitting on. Rus snuggled in happily, drawing up his legs as he curled up against Edge.

“couldn’t sleep anymore,” Rus admitted. “red is taking up the whole bed. think he grows overnight, like one of those damn chia pets.”

“He does spread out an incredible amount for how short he is,” Edge agreed. Better to let Red sleep. Rus was often very needy after a manifestation and Red would need all the energy he could get. “How long were you standing there?”

Rus grimaced, fleeting shame crossing his face. "long enough. sorry i didn't come out sooner."

Edge only pressed a light kiss against the slight nodule of his nasal ridge, rubbing a gentle hand up the length of Rus’s spine. He could feel every intricate joint through the thin layer of linen. "It's my duty to protect you from all things, even nosy friends."

A sniff of Rus’s jawline carried with it a soapy clean scent instead of sleep-sweat. Rus was fresh from the shower, and Edge frowned inwardly, discretely checking him. His magic level was stable which meant that unless he'd persuaded Red into some hasty activity he'd likely masturbated in the shower. Not that Edge had a problem with that; he even enjoyed watching if Rus was in one of his fey mood, his own desire a burning flame as Rus taunted them, shuddering from one orgasm to the next while refusing them a chance to touch.

But Edge suspected it wasn't a desire for personal attention that drove Rus to it and more his altruistic nature, and that was more than a little frustrating. It wasn’t Rus’s duty to worry about them, no matter how warming it was. He’d thought them long past the point of Rus hiding his needs.

No matter. Rus was here now and if he needed anything else today, Edge was more than capable of serving.

Until then there were other needs that should be addressed. “You should eat.”

For blessed once, Rus nodded agreeably, “okay, edgelord, what’ve you got for me?”

Much as it pained him to pull away, Edge drew from Rus’s hold and settled for shaking out a blanket to wrap around his slender shoulders. “Hold on and I’ll bring a tray.”

It was the work of moments to take out the waffle batter and pour a serving into the waiting iron. He ladled out a bowl of the soup as he waited for the waffle to cook, adding a small plate of the cakes after drizzling them with honey as golden as Rus’s magic, though not as sweet and that was something he told Rus often to see that same shade bloom in his cheek bones like wildflowers. The rice he left for now; that was more of Red’s preference. The waffle was added to the plate still steaming hot, doused thoroughly in syrup and a dollop of whipped butter melting into the crevices.

Rus stared as he carried the heavy tray over to the coffee table, laughing nervously, “that looks great, babe, but how hungry do you think i am?”

“What I think is that if you eat even two bites from each dish, I will be happy,” Edge retorted. He nudged the whiskey bottle aside and set the tray in front of Rus.

“i do like making you happy,” Rus murmured. He picked up a fork and it hovered over the plates indecisively. Then it sagged without touching a thing, Rus glancing up at Edge. “um. could you maybe…will you hold me while i eat?”

After all this time, it still stung that Rus was afraid to ask for what he needed. But those doubts weren’t for Edge, he knew, and Rus was always more uncertain after a long night of needing to be fucked, so wary of crossing a line that for Edge simply did not exist. The irony of someone like Rus being Chosen as the Judge always made Edge wonder sourly about the divine sense of humor. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against Rus’s skull, breathing in his sweetness as he murmured, “Of course.”

Edge moved to sit behind Rus, his legs on either side of him, pulling him back against his chest even as he urged Rus to scoot forward, closer to the filled plates. That empty fork finally settled on the waffle, cutting through the crisp exterior to the softness within, revealing a smear of melting chocolate chips.

It took three bites before Rus offered one to Edge, catching a dribble of buttery syrup with the tip of his tongue as he gestured with the fork at Edge. “y’wanna bite?”

Hiding his distaste, Edge leaned in and carefully took the syrup-soaked bite, trying not to gag as his formed tongue cramped at the overwhelming sweetness. In his arms, Rus quivered in poorly disguised laughter that turned into a squeal as Edge poked his fingers into Rus’s ribs, squirming them ticklishly.

“You are taking advantage of my giving nature,” Edge growled teasingly, then hugged him close, "How is your head?”

“bet’r,” Rus swallowed around his current mouthful. “better. takes a little while for it to all sink in. two manifestations in one week leaves me jittery, i guess.”

"That's one way of putting it."

Rus pushed the waffles aside and picked up a spoon. He stirred the soup, noodles and vegetables rising to the surface, but he didn’t take a bite. “i’m starting to remember more,” Rus admitted softly. “yesterday, sans came out. while they were…” Rus’s voice faltered briefly then firmed, “while they were fucking red.”

There was no point in denying it. Edge tightened his arms around Rus. “Yes.”

He nodded a little, his head lowered as he whispered, “is red…do you think he's okay?”

“He’s fine, love.” It wasn’t quite a lie. Whatever emotions Red felt from that manifestation, it hadn’t shown in the aftermath and his brother was vanishingly unlikely to allow it to affect him, either in his treatment of Rus or his duties. That was as close to fine as any of them could ask.

Rus swallowed hard, his voice as soft as a confession, “i didn’t mean to hurt him like that.”

An unpleasant thought occurred, and Edge asked it, baldly, “Are you worrying he doesn’t love you? Because if so—"

Rus shifted, turning in Edge’s arms and his expression was of such aghast surprise that it made Edge weak with relief. “no, of course not. that’s…no.” Rus said, firmly. “i might have sans's essence, but i know red loves me." He sighed, moving to rest his head against Edge’s chest, surely to keep from having to look at him. "but. red did join the guard hoping to get chosen by sans, i know that. he would have, too, if there'd been time. sans liked variety, he picked new chosen all the time, even my own brother—”

He choked, faltering, and Edge only pulled him closer, urging him on silently, “is it wrong that i’m glad he wasn't?” Rus asked. His voice was achingly timid. “if he was sans's chosen, then he couldn’t be mine. i know it’s selfish—"

“No,” Edge soothed. He cupped Rus’s skull in his bare hand, careful to keep his sharpened fingertips from grazing the pristine bone. “No, it’s not selfish, not at all. It only means you love him, the same as he and I love you.”

The very idea of not having Red with them was despicable, horrifying. To Edge’s mind, Sans had plenty of Chosen during his tenure. Rus only Chose two and wanted no other and for that, Edge felt only a wealth of gratitude. The thought that a stranger might have been Chosen along with him instead of Red, a stranger who would be not only allowed but required to touch Rus’s delicate bones, to have their mouth on him, tasting his sweetness, to fuck him and listen as he begged. Edge would have been forced to endure it, they both would.

They sat in silence and Edge slipped a hand beneath Rus’s shirt, petting his bare bones soothingly, seeking only to comfort and not entice. In slow increments Rus relaxed against him, settling against him more comfortably and Edge was tempted to leave things as they were. He could urge Rus back to his plate, cajole and bully a few more bites into him and then perhaps coax him into another nap.

Tempting, but there was a question that needed asking and if Edge didn’t bring it up now, it would be all the easier to let it slide and never ask it at all. And it needed asked, if only for his own soul. Edge closed his sockets, tasting regret as he asked, “Rus, this isn't the first attack we've stopped. But it's the first time the Judge surfaced during one. Why this time, why now? Do you know?"

Immediately, Rus said, “they were going to hurt you and red.”

That was not the answer Edge wanted and it was the one he dreaded most. “Our duty is to protect you, not the other way around.”

“that’s your opinion.” Rus said sullenly. He drew back enough to look Edge in the face, all hostile glares. There was a stirring in the air, like static dancing over them, prickling at their bones and glinting in Rus’s eye lights. “you’re Chosen for us, like so many others, and yet,” Rus voice dropped faintly into a strange echoing whisper, "we've Chosen so many and none of Them ever made Us Feel as you Two Do. In A Thousand Years, None Of Them Ever Loved Us So Deeply In Return."

Rus’s pale eye lights flickered, gleaming indescribably brighter. Then he blinked, his gaze clearing. He glanced around, confused, "i'm sorry, what was i saying?"

"Nothing, love," Edge said. Shaken as he was, he didn’t allow any of it in his voice, saying only, “Come on now, eat up for me.”

Rus seemed doubtful but didn’t press. He managed a few bites of soup and half of one of the cakes before pushing the tray away with a sigh. It was more than Edge hoped for and when he Checked Rus, his HP was steady. He didn’t need the Check to know Rus’s magic levels were rising, Edge could smell it, heavy in the air, that syrupy thickness sweeter than any cakes.

Physically Rus was exhausted, but his magic continued building up relentlessly and it wouldn’t wait for a nap before needing relieved.

Rus knew it as well, sighing impatiently. "all i wanted was to hold you.”

"I know," Edge soothed. He kept his touch light, fingertips tracing the glossy smoothness of ribs. "It'll be all right, love, your magic is always more lively after a manifestation. In a day or two, it will be settled. You know that.” There was another unmentioned benefit. If nothing else, sex also kept Rus’s thoughts from wandering, sifting through memories he didn't need to look at, like picking at an irritating scab. It was difficult to fret when one was hazed with ecstasy and that was a fact.

Not that Rus seemed in any position to appreciate that. He mumbled out a subdued, “yeah.” Pulled out of Edge’s arms to sit in the corner of the sofa, spreading his bare femurs and summoning his cunt. The glistening lips were puffy and swollen, recently used and poorly at that.

Edge frowned inwardly but chose not to call Rus on it. Not now, when his emotions were teetering like a cup on a table ledge, ready to topple and pour his melancholy over them all.

Instead, he ducked his head and ran his tongue gently along the delicate slit. He did not miss Rus’s flinch despite his care. Rus was sore then and that right there was Edge’s issue with him taking care of himself. Rus could be too rough on his own, trying to get it over with even though some things shouldn’t be rushed

Some day they were going to spend some quality time together with Edge directing him, but not now. For now, his magic needed relieved without causing his love any more pain.

Edge considered, rubbing his thumbs down the smooth bone that ran along the insides of Rus’s femurs. “Would you be comfortable forming your cock?”

Rus startled, his sockets widening briefly, then he cringed into himself and nodded. That was the opposite of what Edge wished to see and he crawled up the length of Rus body to kiss him gently, drawing him back out before he told Rus, "No is a complete answer, love, you don't have to.”

His chin wobbled, but Rus’s nod was firm, "yeah, no, i can. but i don't want to—” He gestured awkwardly, frustrated as he stumbled over the words that he couldn’t seem to form. That was all right, Edge didn’t need him to say it.

"I'm not asking you to fuck me," Edge told him quietly.

Rus nodded shakily. He closed his sockets, face tightening as he struggled to exchange his pussy for his cock. The transformation was a difficult one, sweat forming on Rus’s skull, trickling down, and almost, Edge asked him to stop, ready to make do with what they had.

But finally Rus’s cock coalesced into existence at his pubic mound. Edge stared, fascinated. It had been inside him, but he'd never seen it. Smaller than his imaginings, the shaft had seemed enormous while the Judge was fucking him, stretching his walls with agonizing pleasure. Instead, this cock was long and slender, much like Rus himself, the same honey-tinted ectoflesh as his pussy. It curved up towards Rus’s abdominal cavity, tautly hard beneath his hand as Edge reached out to curl his fingers around it. Rus groaned as Edge gave it a light stroke, moving to gently push back the foreskin and reveal the rounded head, fondling the sensitive ridge beneath it. Whatever Rus’s uncertainties, his cock knew what it wanted. Golden magic beaded at the tip, glossy wet and begging to be licked away.

Edge’s mouth watered, eager to taste, but he swallowed the pseudosaliva away, looking up into Rus’s lovely, flushed face as he asked, "Is this all right?"

He waited only long enough for Rus to give a shaky nod and then fell hungrily upon him.

The taste was different than Rus’s pussy, unexpectedly potent and the sweetness was tainted with an underlying bitterness. It was delicious and Edge groaned around the length filling his mouth, working his tongue against the shaft, seeking more.

It had been a long time since he’d done this, not since his training days back in the barracks. Back then this had been nothing more than another exercise, a chore that might be required of him if he were ever Chosen and he’d endured learning it the same as he did the morning drills.

For Rus, he wanted nothing more than to overwhelm him with pleasure, a chance to show to him that this could be as good as being fucked. Those long-ago lessons came back to him in blurts of memory coupled with common sense. To be cautious of his jaggedly sharp teeth, that didn’t change no matter what equipment Edge went down on. Making sure to keep the heated, plush magic of his mouth wet and slippery to allow the shaft to slide easily. Bobbing his head in slow, luxurious movements, winding his tongue around the length and swallowing deeply to let the head of the shaft bump chokingly deep into his throat.

Above him, Rus cried out, shrill and shocked, and way he moved, his fingers scrabbling over Edge’s skull, suggested he wasn't entirely comfortable with it. Reluctantly, Edge pulled off, licking the lingering sticky-sweetness from his teeth as he said, "Love, we don't need to—"

"i know,” Rus panted. His entire face was glowing with a hectic flush, his eye lights bright and wild. His slim hands fluttered indecisively, phalanges clicking softly together, “i know, don’t stop, keep going, please!"

Instead, Edge ran the tip of his tongue up the length of the shaft, watching that light touch crackle in Rus’s eye lights. Rus’s hands fisted, trembling against the sofa cushion as he struggled not to touch when Edge did it again, lapping away the renewed surge of sweetly-bitter fluid leaking from the tip. Edge let his breath touch that wet skin, damp and hot, as he murmured solicitously, “Would it be better if I held you down?”

It was an answer he already knew. Rus enjoyed being tied up well enough but for one of them to hold him down nearly sent him into a frenzy, sputtering out wordless cries as he struggled and begged. His love would never admit it in so many words, he was usually too mortified to even ask for it, but he and Red drew the truth from him over time with mouths and hands. Rus didn’t want to give up his control, he wanted it to be taken, and that his cock pulsed at the mere mention of being held down was a fair sign that still held true.

Edge only let his mouth curve smugly as Rus looked away, his blush deepened to a true orange as he muttered, “shut up.”

“Love, I didn’t say a word.”

And he didn’t, only took hold of Rus’s wrists and pinned them firmly to either side of him on the sofa cushions. Rus struggled briefly in his grip, trying fruitlessly to twist free and when he couldn’t, he sank back, panting, each word couched in a whine as he pleaded, “please, c’mon, i can’t…i need it, please!”

Through the open shirt, his soul was manifesting, already slick with thick silvery fluid, fat droplets on the verge of falling. His magic levels were getting painfully high then and Edge didn’t waste another moment, ducking his head and taking Rus’s cock in again deeply, sucking hard.

The shaft throbbed suddenly in his mouth, pulsing, and the abrupt spill of thick, hot seed at the back of his throat nearly made him choke. Edge struggled to swallow it down, taking Rus as deeply as he could, his nasal ridge pressed tight to his pubic bone. Rus was squirming and sobbing, fighting against Edge’s grip even as he came hotly down his throat. He whimpered out a feeble protest as Edge pulled off, only to let out a near scream as he lapped his way lower instead, following the smoothness of the ectoflesh back to find the tight pucker of his ass. He licked up the cleft and back down, pressed the narrow tip of his tongue against it, breaching that furled hole and forcing his slippery tongue in deep. It was so tight, clenching around the flexible length of his tongue, and for a moment Edge lost himself in it, muffling his own guttural cries into the generous curves of overheated ectoflesh, imagining that tightness around his own cock, thrusting inside and jerking Rus off with his other hand or better, Red sucking him off, his mouth tight around slender length of Rus’s shaft, grunting out his own satisfaction in deep gurgles as they gave their lover pleasure from both sides.

Beneath his eager mouth, Rus convulsed, his hips jerking so hard he nearly sent Edge to the floor and his bony knees clattering against the sides of Edge’s skull as he came again, crying out in desperate ecstasy.

By the time Edge reluctantly drew away, Rus was shivering with exhaustion, pulling weakly at Edge’s shirt. Edge let go of Rus’s wrists and followed that upward tug, but not before glimpsing the pretty bracelets of deep orange bruises he’d left behind to fuss over later.

“please, fuck me now,” Rus begged. Bright tears were streaming down his face and dripping down, swirling into the splatters of silver left by his leaking soul like creamer into coffee. “i want you inside me.”

His pussy all but snapped back into place, soaked and eager, the narrow passage clenching visibly, and Edge almost fell between his legs. His hands were shaking, need tangled with desperation as he took Rus’s mouth fiercely, shoving his tongue between his teeth to share his own dark, sweet taste. Edge reached down to fumble open his pants, guiding his cock between those swollen, drenched lips and started pushing in. Rus cried out, the sound lost within their kiss, his fingers digging into Edge’s shoulders through his shirt as Edge forced his cock deep, riding the slickness of his pussy and driving into Rus’s pliant body in a brutal rhythm.

Neither of them were going to last. Rus was nearly sobbing in his pleasure at each vicious thrust, squirming as he reached between them. Not for his clit as Edge first thought but into his own abdominal cavity and Edge strangled out a disgraceful sound as Rus squeezed his cock through the thin sheath of his own magic with both hands. There was no holding back after that, relentlessly driving into Rus’s pussy and grip as one, and every thrust came with a slick, obscene sound, matched by the desperate cries gurgling through Rus’s clenched teeth.

Edge’s grunt caught in his throat as he came, glottal and thick, and he watched greedily through narrowed sockets as his magic filled Rus, glistening crimson flowing inside of him, staining him with his claim. His sockets clenched shut without Edge’s permission, unable to bear the wracking pleasure of it as he shook and jerked, unbearable ecstasy shaking him to his very core.

He collapsed, sagging down on Rus even as he struggled to keep the bulk of his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing him into the cushions. Even so, Rus only clung to him, breathless beneath Edge’s weight while refusing to let him go.

His wits were still scattered to the four corners of the room when clapping from behind them, mockingly polite. “nice show, gonna have an encore?”

They turned as one to see Red leaned against the wall dressed only in his shorts. His joints were lit with deep scarlet, matching the burning of his eye lights and his grin was a slash across his face, wide and eager.

"You're late, brother,” Edge panted, struggling out from between Rus’s legs. The hitched sound Rus made as he withdrew sent a pulse of regretful guilt through his soul, but there was nothing for it. As he pulled out, crimson oozed from between Rus’s pussy lips, staining the sofa cushion beneath him that was already streaked orange and silver and Edge did not care. He rolled over to face his brother instead, asking with mocking sweetness, “Finally decided to wake up after I already wore him out?”

Red snorted. “ain’t a sinner or saint who could sleep through that racket and i ain’t either.” His crimson gaze moved over them greedily. “but he do look tired. trying to win a marathon on his belly?”

“i’m not that worn out,” Rus grumbled, the words belied by the way he struggled to sit up, his limbs wobbly and disobedient. “if you want to give it, i can take it.”

Red’s gaze dropped and Edge knew he was taking in those swollen pussy lips, like bruised petals surrounding a battered flower. He flicked an accusing glance at Edge who could only flush guiltily, but that annoyed gaze didn’t linger, went straight back to Rus as he said, smoothly, “honey love, you know i never like to turn down a chance to give it to you good—"

“your pillow talk could use some work, short stuff,” Rus snorted.

“i’ll work on it when we get some pillows out here,” Red blithely continued even as he prowled closer to the sofa. “anyway, love to nail you good, honey, but my magic ain’t quite up to it. i might be a little prick but i ain’t interested in using one.”

It was a reasonable excuse, one that Rus might even believe, particularly when Red lifted a hand, waggling his fingers teasingly. “mind if we take the scenic route?”

“any road trip with you is bound to be interesting,” Rus wriggled back into the cushions, dragging his own fingers across his spread femurs and smearing the colorful array of fluids across his lovely bones. “better get in the driver’s seat.”

Edge shifted back, easing away to sit in the other corner of the sofa, already anticipating a remarkably interesting show as Red crawled up onto the sofa.

Then he was clawing uneven holes into the cushions, a ragged, shocked cry escaping him because instead of joining Rus, Red swooped in to lick at Edge’s softened cock, his hot mouth startlingly gentle on the soft organ. It might even have been considered soothing if it weren't his brother's mouth on him. Edge jerked convulsively, unable to pull away and only able to lie there watching in sheer disbelief as his brother mouthed him. There was a brief moment of suction, the warning prickle of jagged teeth and then as quickly as he pounced, Red pulled away, licking away smears of honey-gold and red from his teeth with a lascivious tongue.

"sorry, bro,” Red purred, low and gravely as a stray tomcat. “you needed a little cleaning too. didn't want any of that honey to go to waste.”

Edge said nothing, staring speechlessly at his brother before his eye lights flicked to Rus who was watching wide sockets. Rus squeezed his sockets shut, shivering deeply and clenching his thighs together, bones rattling as he quivered, and a low cry hissed out between his newly clenched teeth.

“Did you just come?” Edge demanded in disbelief. If so, he was honestly impressed by it; to come untouched and not even on the heels of the last orgasm was delightfully needy, even considering what set Rus off.

Honey-gold color bloomed across Rus’s entire face like wildfire. He tried cover it with both his hands, but skeletal fingers were hardly a barrier. His joints were already lit with renewed arousal and he drew his knees together, but it didn’t hide the generous rush of golden dampness slicking his inner thighs.

Red's grin widened, tongue lolling eagerly out. "hm, looks like i better get to drivin'."

Edge only swallowed hard, sinking back to watch as his brother ran a gentle finger up softly bruised folds that were colorfully tinted with Edge’s come. Rus’s hands fell away from his face, revealing sockets sank to half-mast as he arched, stuttering out a ragged cry and if Edge ended up with his own hand back on his achingly hard cock, jerking himself off and coming in hot spurts into the cup of his own hand as he watched them together, he had no one to blame but himself for not joining them.

He sat there watching them, watched as Rus’s eye lights hazed in ecstasy, watched as Red’s tongue pushed between swollen pussy lips again and again, until he’d licked away all of Edge’s come and there was only the sticky gold slipping from Rus’s entrance in shining wet droplets. Edge watched as Rus’s magic finally dropped to acceptable levels and he sagged back, exhausted, all but clutching Red to his chest when he crawled up to lay tiredly next to Rus, the both of them falling trustingly into sleep with Edge’s gaze still upon them.

He only moved to cover them with a soft blanket, tucking it around their bare, damp bones and when Rus began to whimper in his sleep, trembling, Edge sat next to them, gently petting the delicate curve of Rus’s skull, whispering to him that it was all right, that he was safe.

Red slept on obliviously, even as Edge cupped his skull in his other hand, a hand on each of them. He kept his touch light, gentle, fighting off the urge to pull them both fiercely into his arms, to never let them go.

I would take you both away from here, if I could. An unwelcome, useless thought and Edge dismissed it ruthlessly. He was no traitor to the crown or to the Angel, he was Chosen and here was where he belonged, watching over them.

Keeping them safe, from anything at all.

-fin

Next Chapter

#fontcest #keelywolfe #underfell papyrus #underfell sans #underswap papyrus #underswap #underfell #lemony goodness #papcest #spicyhoney #honeymustard #spicyhoneymustard #bodyguard au

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monsieur-hadrien · 4 years

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Quarantine Harry Potter Fanfiction *READING LIST*

I’ve spent the past months reading copious amounts of fanfiction and now my amount of AO3 bookmarks is absurd. I really need to share these because if I don’t I think I might implode. Drarry-centric but not all!

These are in no particular order nor is there a particular time frame that these were all posted. I have a little bit of everything in here just you wait.

On Punching Gods and Absentee Dads by Enigmaris

56 Chapters, 247k Words, Complete, no slash, T Rating

Marvel, Norse Mythology, Harry Potter Crossover

TW: Past Abandonment

Harry finds out that his dad is alive, has been the whole time. Instead of being overjoyed, Harry's disgusted. His dad left earth and abandoned his friends. Every painful thing he's ever gone through can be traced back to one man. Now Harry's got super strength he can't control and an almost unnecessary amount of magical power. His dad might be living it up with the Avengers now but not for long. With the help of his friends, Harry comes up with a plan for revenge. Get ready Avengers, Harry's out to punch a god.

We’re starting off strong with a Marvel crossover fanfic wow. Who knew that crossovers could be done tastefully as 2013 Wattpad kind of ruined it for us. However, this fic changed my mind! This fic is funny as fuck and is just a goodass time. I love a good multi-chapter fic (as you’ll soon see) and this one is a showstopper.

The Man Who Lived by sebastianL

42 Chapters, 254k Words, Complete, Draco/Harry, E Rating

TW: Major Character Death, Graphic Deptictions of Violence

Draco breaks a cup, and one thing leads to another. A story of redemption, tattoos, dreams, mistakes, green eyes, long conversations, and copious amounts of coffee.

With all of the Black Lives Matter protests happening right now, I think that this fic is super relevant. Draco has moved to New York City and is working as a receptionist at a tattoo shop and a mentor for inner city kids, but he accidentally gets forced to work out his differences with Harry, who at this point hates his guts. This fic is pretty serious, tackling themes of mental health, suicide, and police brutality. Every OC in this story is completely lovable and I cried my eyes out many times. When people ask me for a fic reccomendation this is the one I give people. Dare I say that this is my all-time favorite fic.

Warm Bodies by Betty_Hazel

Work in Progress, 37 Chapters as of 6/12/2020, 108k Words, Draco/Harry, E Rating

TW: D/s Dynamics, Graphic Porn, Dubious Relationship with Food

Draco Malfoy has spent his whole life wanting to go down on his knees for other men, and that's by far the least of the depraved things he fantasises about. He's wanted it all for so long that he's stopped believing that there might be someone out there who might be able to give it all to him; it comes as something of a surprise to find that maybe Harry Potter can, and that maybe Harry's looking for something too.

ALRIGHT MY PORN LOVERS THIS ONE IS FOR YOU! Don’t lie I know you’re horny. Somehow this fic is so fucking gorgeous and sweet yet so sinfully hot. It’s literally two boys who have never felt like their emotional needs have been satisfied learning to help and love each other like how much more wholesome does it get. I mean it’s all fine and wholesome until you get to the kinky sex which is WONDERFULLY WRITTEN MIGHT I ADD! I always say that if porn can make you feel something other than just horny, you’ve found a winner, and this story does just that.

Definitely check all the tags and I mean all the tags before you read this, but this is definitely one of my favorite porn with plot stories.

Running On Air by eleventy7

17 Chapters, 75k Words, Complete, Draco/Harry, T Rating

TW: No Archive Warnings

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Might I just say that classics are considered classics for a reason. This is one of those stories that has the vibe of high school summer after senior year where all you do is try to escape reality and figure out your place in the world. While the plot is wonderful and the characters are great, I think what shines the brightest from this story is the writing style. It’s so enchanting and poetic with the best one-liners that make your heart hurt. On my AO3 bookmark i captioned it, “This just ripped my soul in half and restitched it together again,” and I still stand by that.

Lokison (Series) and How To Train Your Godling (Series) by sifsshadowheart

Main Story (Lokison): 33 Chapters, 244k Words, Completed, Harry/Various Characters, E Rating

14 Spinoffs/ Sequel Stories, Completed, Harry/Various, Various Ratings

Norse Mythology, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Various Fandoms Crossover

TW: Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Underage Sex, Spiralling Mental Health

James and Lily Potter had a secret, one which led to Thanatos saving young Harry from a dreary life with the Dursleys and changed the face of the Second British Wizarding War before it ever began.

This story feels much more like a 12 season television show than a two hour movie if you know what I mean. The plot is pretty slow going but the character development and interation makes it worth it. The story blends the lore and events of the HP and PJO to make a completely new story without making it feel like a goddamn recap. The reader follows Harry from when he’s young all the way into adulthood and it’s a fun time to watch him grow as a character and bond with his parental figures. Also some of the spinoffs are really wild and I never would have thought of the pairings but they just work somehow?? My personal favorite spinoff is the Pirates of Caribbean/Calypso and Leo arc like HELLO?! hot pirates. The total word count of the two series is 465k so beware it takes a hot second to chug through this one.

This Worship of an Extinct Fire by Lomonaaeren

Oneshot, 30k Words, Draco/Harry, M Rating

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Deppression

Unspeakable Draco Malfoy has planned for nearly six months how to take down Thomas Linwood, a man who has discovered the secret of converting wizard bodies to pure magic. He was prepared for anything--except the discovery of the missing Harry Potter in Linwood's compound.

This one, I don’t know how it’s not considered a classic. I’ve seen it floating around on drarry tumblr and wow is it good. I especially like the detailed magic system and mechanics that Draco is investigating. How the author managed to have so much detailed and gracefully planned out backstory in 30k words is beyond me. Also gentle Dracoo Malfoy is my favorite Draco Malfoy :) absolute angel mode.

Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night in Soho) by LLAP15 and Writcraft

Oneshot, 66k Words, Draco/Harry, Past Sirius/James, E Rating

TW: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light D/s Dynamics, References to Cancer, References to HIV/AIDS

Draco is lonely, Harry hates the press and it won’t stop raining in London. Harry discovers a magical street that’s close to disappearing forever and Draco realises he’s one rainy night in Soho away from finding everything he’s been searching for.

This fic is, in every sense, a masterpiece. Especially for pride month, the story surrounding LGBTQIA+ activism, the AIDS Epidemic of the 80s, and the gentrification of historically queer communities is one that should be read by everyone. Every single place, OC, and historic event has real world ties and is historically accurate, making this fic even more enchanting. Everything about this fic is graceful and slow burning I can’t help but fall in love with it. I’ve only seen this fic once on HP tumblr, but I feel like it should be considered a classic as it is truly a moving piece. This fic is one of the biggest reasons why I became so enthralled with LGBT history and am writing a fic that takes place in a wizarding version of the AIDS epidemic.

Sensitive Touch by Raserwolf

45 Chapters, 194k Words, Complete, Draco/Harry, E Rating

TW: Racism and Racial Slurs, Homophobic Slurs, Ablism and Ablist Slurs, Rape and Sexual Assault, Sensory Overloads and Mental Breakdowns, Extreme Bullying and Hate Crime, Past Abuse, Anxiety Disorders, PTSD wow this is a long list

When Draco Malfoy encounters a struggling and frustrated Harry desperately trying to tie his shoes after a meltdown in the Great Hall, his curiosity regarding the incident leads him to seek the help of the two people closest to Harry: Ron and Hermione.

After even they are shocked to hear the extent of Harry's issues, though Hermione had her suspicions, he discovers more about the man than he ever thought he knew before.

As a Neurotypical, I found this fic to be absolutely wonderful. I don’t know much about the typical traits of those who are one the autism spectrum and how they affect their everyday lives, but from what I was reading in the comments from those who are on the spectrum or who have family who are, this fic was pretty accurate and realistic. Harry, who lives with aspergers, goes without a known diagnosis until 8th year and it’s just heightened by his PTSD and anxiety and ugh I just want to hug the boy. The story follows Harry and Draco and the rest of the 8th year gang through the year and has multiple arcs in which the wizarding world are just dumbass bitches who can’t fucking seem to accept people for who they are. Not only is Harry on the spectrum but he’s also Desi with a purpose and not just mentioned and forgotten which is wonderful. The boys go through a lot of trauma in the story but there’s also a lot of teeth-rotting fluff that I live for. This is one of the fics that I have read and reread because I love it so much.

This definitely is not my full list I have a ton more stories in my bookmarks if you are curious. I’ll probably post a part two to this just cause I have so much and read so often. These, however, are definitely the biggest highlights.

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highqueenofelfhame · 4 years

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25 Days of Christmas: Rowaelin

Fear and Fire: Chapter Two.

“I want to try for special ops,” she said, sitting on the edge of her chair and regarding her Admiral with the utmost respect. Brullo’s fingers were tented in front of his face, chin resting on his thumbs as he mulled his words over.

“You’re sure you’re ready?” His eyes finally met hers, scanning her face for any sign of instability, she was sure. There had been a long while when, after Sam, she had been like a loose canon. At this point, she wasn’t sure how many times they’d had this conversation. That she was ready to join, but that he didn’t think she was ready. After yesterday, she was positive he was going to say no again, but instead he leaned back in his chair and nodded. “Alright.”

“You’re serious?” Brullo’s approval meant everything to Aelin, considering how hard they had both worked to get her where she was at present. Despite it being the twenty-first century, men didn’t take kindly to taking orders from women. Especially women younger than they were, women that were smaller than they were. It usually took her kicking their ass before they would treat her with an ounce of respect. So for him to say that it was okay, to give his go-ahead that she so desperately sought, meant the world.

“Of course I’m serious. I think it’s time,” he said, nodding to himself as she rushed around the desk and threw her arms around his neck. It wasn’t often that he allowed such things, but when she snuck it up on him he could hardly refuse. Brullo had been friends with her father, was someone Aelin had known since she was a child, and sometimes felt like all of her dad that she had left.

“I won’t let you down, sir.”

~*~

Aelin had never wanted to let Brullo down so much in her life. She knew, weeks ago when she had asked for his approval, that the special ops tryouts were grueling. She had known that Brullo had worked his ass off to make it so she could even tryout for special ops. Up until Aelin had voiced her interest months ago, women hadn’t been allowed. Aelin was the first, and currently only, woman to tryout to be on one of the elite teams of Terrasen’s Navy.

Now that she had passed the initial test (an intense physical test that included running, swimming, and various other physical tests), training had begun and her life was already hell. Everyone was making sure of it, too. Everyone except for her friends in the Cadre: the twins, Vaughan, and Gavriel. Aelin was pretty sure that Rowan and Lorcan wanted to eat her for a snack.

Now, with her hands bound behind her back and her ankles tied together, she had been struggling so hard to keep her head just above water that she would have been embarrassed had the men not had an equally difficult time. When the final whistle blew, she took a deep breath and let her body go completely limp to sink beneath the surface while she untied her hands and feet with ease. The knots hadn’t ever been so tight that she wouldn’t have been able to get out of them. With her eyes open beneath the water, she could see several of the men having a hard time unravelling their knots. It was amusing, really, to know that their biggest fear was likely being bested by the only woman and then having to watch it come to fruition when she finally pulled herself out of the pool. Aelin sat on the ledge for a few minutes, untying her boots and depositing them on the concrete beside her. When she tilted them upside down, water poured from inside and she shook her head with a sigh.

And then the catcalling started. The low whistles, the cheers while she twisted her hair to wring out the water.

It wasn’t the first time that it had happened. It wasn’t even the first time this week that it had happened. Her rank didn’t matter when she was smaller than all the men on base. The fact that she kicked their asses day in and out before special ops training didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was a woman, she had tits, she had an ass, and these men were wildly deprived on base despite frequent trips into the bars and pubs in town. It was gross. It was wearing her thin, and she couldn’t help but wonder when she would finally snap and beat them all to a bloody pulp, likely getting excused or kicked out of special ops training for violent behavior.

“Take it off, Princess!” Someone shouted in her direction, and she kept her head down while she squeezed the water from her shirt. The same man that had just yelled at her had stripped his shirt off and tossed it to the side, and Aelin shifted uncomfortably while he yelled at her again, only to be joined by several others. It was disgusting, the male mind in thinking that they were completely entitled to speak to her however they so wished. Just when she’d lost her patience, another louder and more authoritative voice rang clear through the room, echoing off the walls and cutting through the choppy splashing of the water.

“Everybody outside. Now.” Whitethorn. Nobody hesitated when he or anyone from the Cadre spoke. They were the law as far as anyone was concerned, and they would follow each and every order they were given.

Despite her aching and waterlogged body, Aelin pulled herself to her feet and shoved them back into her shoes, following the rest of the soldiers outside. They all stood in a single line, heads held high despite their aching bones.

“Galathynius.” Aelin stepped forward, lifting her chin a fraction of an inch and did her best to ignore the low chuckles behind her.

“Sir!”

“About how badly would you like to kick these men’s asses for patronizing you simply because you’re a woman?” The question caught her off guard so much that she huffed out a laugh, her shoulders relaxing the slightest amount. For a moment, she had been worried that he, too, would start reaming her over her gender.

“You would be surprised how bad, sir,” she answered truthfully as Rowan came to stop in front of her. Gods, he was huge. Aelin looked up at him, making direct eye contact for the first time.

He leaned down then, lips close to her ear and murmured, “Can I do it for you?”

“I don’t need protecting, sir. I can do it myself.” Something in Rowan’s eyes flickered as he stepped back and gave her an appreciative look.

“Would you mind?”

“No, sir.” She admitted, not minding at all if he took them down if only because she was too tired with jello limbs to do it herself.

It was the biggest honor of her life, she decided, watching thirteen men get the life beat out of them in a sparring ring while she got to watch.

An even bigger honor just to watch Rowan Whitethorn take down men with hardly any effort at all. It was like it came so naturally, so second nature that it took no effort. The only sign that he didn’t possess some sort of superhuman strength was his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths from exertion. He moved in such a beautiful way that it surprised her. Despite his size he moved with such grace that it was almost like watching a dance. Rowan Whitethorn may as well be Superman.

~*~

Aelin had been running on the treadmill for too long. Despite the long stamina she had when it came to running, the fact that she had been holding a steady pace for well over an hour while she watched Rowan and Fenrys spar on a mat across the room. There was a stitch in her side, because there were others in the room besides just Rowan and Fenrys. Grave and Cain were two of them, and Aelin refused to slow down lest they decide she was weak and couldn’t keep up a mild sprint for long enough. They kept looking at her laughing as it were, each of them sporting swollen jaws and black eyes from the beating Rowan had dished out earlier in the day. As soon as those two left the work out room, though, she slammed the speed button to slow down while she gulped in large breaths of air.

Not too long after, Fenrys and Rowan fist bumped and Fen left the room leaving Rowan and Aelin alone. Rowan was dabbing at his brow with a towel, sweat reflecting off the surface of his stupidly pronounced chest. There was such a raw cut to each of his abdominal muscles that it felt more like she was looking in on Brad Pitt filming Fight Club.

“Sir?” She immediately wanted to die at how out of breath she sounded, how raspy her voice was. Rowan lifted his eyes to meet hers as she finally stepped off the treadmill, though, and raised a brow. “I had a question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said, tilting his head back to squirt a shot of water into his mouth from his water bottle before spraying it over his face. Shit. He was hot.

“I’ve never seen anyone fight like you did today.” Not her question, and his answer of a raised brow told her that he, too, noticed it wasn’t a question. “I’m quick. I’m strong. I am very accomplished as a soldier but I was hoping that you might teach me. Teach me how to fight the way you were. I can kill someone with a dagger from fifty feet straight to the heart, but with just my fists I’m not as talented. I feel like if I don’t ask for help where I need it that I won’t get the job I’m trying so hard to obtain and I refuse to not get a promotion because a few men decided I wasn’t good enough.” Her heart was thundering in her chest, pounding like a herd of wild stallions were beating against her ribs. Rowan tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, licked his lips, then nodded once.

“Only if I can take you out for a drink.” Aelin was torn between wanting to scream yes and wanting to slap him for being like the rest of the men on base.

“That sounds wildly inappropriate. Is that why you beat everyone up today?”

“I kicked their asses because their behavior was bullshit and not something that I tolerate.”

“So you’re going to approve me for the SO position if I say yes?” Chewing on her bottom lip, she rested her hands on her hips while she watched his face carefully. His cheeks were flushed now, eyes flustered but bright.

“Asking you out for a drink is inappropriate but trying to get me to hand you a position isn’t?”

“I’m a woman, sir. I need all the help I can get.” It was a challenge, those two sentences. A challenge that if he failed, she would find a dagger and stab him with it for being a hypocrite, but when he spoke she found herself to be pleasantly surprised.

“You don’t need my help getting the job. You’re doing more than fine without my help, you will get SO because you deserve it, because you are capable.” The sincerity in his voice was striking, the lilt of his accent making the words a soft confession that she wanted him to repeat. She wanted to ask him if he meant it, if he truly believed what he said, but the look in his eyes told her that he did. Rowan Whitethorn, if no one else on the base, believed in her. “I’ll train you. The drink is optional, but yes, I will help you train.”

With flying colors, he passed. So after a few beats, after she willed her heart to calm, she took a step back and offered him a small smile. “You can pick me up at seven.”

tags: @starseternalnighttriumphant @mariamuses @keshavomit @faefromthenorth @ifyouwouldseemysoul @murlymoo150 @faerie-queen-fireheart @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyre-therabeaux @runawayrowan @someonemagical @stormymeow @singme-t0sleep @tswaney17 @shyvioletcat @city-of-fae @kandasboi @mynewdreamwasyou @tangledraysofsunshine @aelin-is-my-heart @empire-of-wildfire @mynameiscelaenasardothien @myfeyrelady @schmlip-scribble @musicmaam @nalgenewhore @westofmoon @aaronwarnvrs @acourtofrowaelinandfeysand @im-not-rare-im-rarr

#25 days #day ten #rowaelin #fear and fire #faf2 #fear and fire 2 #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #fenrys moonbeam #tog #throne of glass

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