#this also happens if he struggles to spell or say a word correctly

[olliesneweyes]

okay so this MAY be where the "aggressive tendencies" came from but i think that. this is not a valid reason to say he has aggressive tendencies especially w all the neglect and shit??? like ok yeah the guard was bleeding or whatever but. this was probably the first thing he's had in days (upon rereading he attacked the guard for a single piece of bread which is probably the first thing he had the chance to eat that wasnt literal dog food since he got locked in the kennel) and he's being treated like a dog. he's gonna be on edge what are you expecting?? (also the fact the staff only know his name because HE HAD A COLLAR AROUND HIS NECK???)

also it actually is canon that his education was super extremely limited and his vocabulary was expanded by talking to the kids from a village around the place he escaped to

also the way he's constantly referred to as ada's "accessory" in canon makes me SO ill (/neg) like

YEAH...........

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod - Teaching you their language

Requested: No

Warnings: ✨Spice✨, slight Angst, Reader doesn’t speak the character’s language

König

König is a patient teacher and also quite a bit excitable when it comes to the topic of his language. He’d love nothing more than to speak to someone else in his mother tongue, as it is less nerve wracking for him than trying to carefully pronounce things in English. He’s really good at answering any questions you have, and is gentle when he corrects your pronunciations or words you’ve mixed up. That being said, because he’s so excited, he sometimes forgets that you can’t speak the language as well as him, so he’ll go on long rants or explanations in Austrian-German without realizing it until he waits for an answer from you and you just stare at him blankly.

Krueger

Krueger is much less patient than König and he’s also less excited. It’s been a long time since he’s spoken to anyone in his language, and he’s constantly insecure about how his accent has been changed over the years, and he’s constantly doubting if he’s even speaking the language right, even if it’s his own mother tongue. But once you two really start to make some progress he’s much more relaxed, and even finds it a bit soothing to be able to speak like this with someone again. He’s not the most patient teacher with you but he’s not the worst either. Some days are worse than others but that’s mostly due to his own stresses and for reasons already listed above.

Alejandro

Alejandro is SO glad you asked. You can’t tell exactly what’s on his mind but what you can tell is that it’s something devious, if the smirk on his face is anything to go by. He takes great joy in focusing on anatomy first and foremost, taking a marker to you, writing down pure filth on your skin, words like “*Propiedad de Alejandro” and “*Tócame” and “*Mía/Mío”, sucking and nipping at whatever correlates to the words that you manage to pronounce at least semi correctly. Of course he’ll teach you things beyond that but he’s just really excited to use this to his advantage. He may or may not have had this exact scenario as a fantasy for a while now.

Roach

Roach is happy to teach you BSL! Sure he can speak at times but it takes a lot of effort and it makes him uncomfortable, and it takes forever for anyone to figure out what he wants through vague gestures and charades. Not to say that moments like those can’t be funny but you get sick of them rather quickly when it happens so much. He’ll probably start by teaching you the alphabet hand signs and some simple words finger spelling, along with his name. (Which you later find out is not him signing Gary, but Roach.) He’ll even teach you some of his personal signs, like the ones he made for his teammates and that they’ve all vaguely come to recognize as them. You learn that yours in particular is actually the sign for Bug, what once was his secret nickname for you but that he’s kind of happy you now know, if only to see your smile whenever he uses it.

Gromsko

Gromsko, much like Alejandro, used this opportunity to his advantage. Except in a bit of a different way. He’ll be edging you throughout your “lessons”, cooing in your ear as you struggle to even read what he’s written down for you to practice, your legs trembling as he fingers you. If you get it right? He goes faster, hitting just the right spots. If you get it wrong, he stops completely, taking enjoyment in how you sob with dismay, pressing kisses to your shoulders as he whispers to you. “Shhh, *Kochanie. It’s okay. Try again.” He’ll tell you, a smile on his face that looked almost deceivingly innocent.

*Propiedad de Alejandro = Property of Alejandro

*Tócame = Touch me

*Mía/Mío = Mine

*Kochanie = Sweetheart

[theadorableapprentice]

A Simple Spell

MC x Solomon

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 622

MC struggles with a spell they think should be easy.

It was supposed to be a simple spell. Summon a book from the human world. That’s all Solomon asked you to do. And theoretically you could do it. You’ve summoned a book while in the Devildom. How is this any different? That’s what you were thinking anyways. The reality of it was that you couldn’t get it down.

“Sol, I swear, if this happens one more time I’m going to lose it,” You huff. You both are soaking wet from head to toe and you’re trying to pry off the fifth octopus you’ve accidentally summoned instead of a book. 

Solomon, of course, finds this hilarious. He doesn’t even bother to hide his laughter. “I must say, this is quite the interesting result. To summon an octopus each time instead of a book is something I can’t say I’ve witnessed before. It’s definitely not something I expected from you. However, why an octopus? Should I be taking this as a sign?”

This manages to get a chuckle out of you. You know of Solomon’s dislike of the ocean. “Maybe it’s my subconscious saying something… But what am I doing wrong? I swear I’m saying the incantation correctly. Am I emphasizing the wrong word or something?”

Solomon shakes his head. “You’re hesitating. Here, do it like this.” He holds out his hand and says the incantation, not hesitating on a single word. A book appears in his hand. His book. The one he wrote about fish. 

You want to laugh at that but you’re also frustrated. “I don’t feel like I’m hesitating though. I’m saying the words without pausing.”

“Just try it again.”

So you do. You hold out your hand and say the incantation. Once again there is a splash of water that falls down on the both of you and an octopus that attaches itself to your arm. You let out a groan as you feel the octopus wrap its tentacles around your arm. “I’m never going to get this!”

“MC, you can’t give up. You’re still managing to summon something which is good,” Solomon says as he starts to help unwrap the tentacles surrounding your arm. “You’re still hesitating with a couple of the words.”

You let out a sigh and shake your head. “Solomon, I don’t feel like I’m hesitating. I don’t know what to do.” You continue to help him get the octopus off your arm. 

When he finally gets it off, he sets it in the tank with the others. He looks at you and puts a finger under your chin, tipping your head up so you’re looking in his eyes. 

“MC, you’re hesitating on three of the harder words. Do you doubt you can say them if you don’t think them through first?”

You let out a small breath. “Well… It’s just… They’re words I don’t know and have never had to say before. I don’t want to say them wrong and have something catastrophic happen like the illusion spell.”

Solomon chuckles when you bring up that incident. “MC, you won’t mess it up. You know the words. I know you do. Try again, but this time just say the words. Don’t worry about saying them wrong.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before opening them and holding out your hand again. This time you say the incantation you just say the words without thinking about them. You close your eyes, expecting a splash and an octopus, but instead a book plops into your hand. 

Your eyes widen in excitement. “Solomon, I did it! I got the book!”

Solomon grins and ruffles your hair. “See?” 

You set the book down and smile at him. “Thanks for the help.”

“Anything for you, my adorable apprentice.”

[isfjmel-phleg]

A few adaptations/retellings don't get the significance of the fact that Mary has grown up unloved and for whatever reason try to soften her relationship with her parents. But many of them do grasp just how neglected she's been and highlight it, especially in light of how prickly it has made her. These versions tend to understand the root of her issues relatively easily.

But an overwhelming number of recent adaptations/retellings do not do the same for Colin. It is extremely common for these versions to give him/his equivalent a warm relationship with his now-deceased mother/equivalent. In The Humming Room, Phillip "adored [his mother] and she adored him back," and he is in the depths of depression after losing her. Callie in The Misselthwaite Archives has fond memories of her late mother and footage of the family enjoying happy times in the glade, as well as a father who, even though he's gone frequently, regularly keeps in touch with her through affectionate postcards. When Mary meets Colin in the 2020 film, he talks about his relationship with his mother, how she "loved me hugely" (painfully awkward wording), and her letters back that up. Colin in The Secret Garden on 81st Garden mourns the apparently very recent death of a loving father and, despite his anger toward Mr. Craven, is still surrounded by adults who appear to genuinely care about his wellbeing. Although Clement in The Edge of In Between was an infant when his mother died, he apparently had such a close bond with her already that he lost all color (something that happens to those who succumb to grief in this book's world) after losing her. It's been a while since I've read A Bit of Earth, but if I recall correctly, Colin in that book also knew and loved his mother before her death and struggles more with living up to (perceived?) familial expectations than feeling rejected or unloved.

And I'm not saying that these creative choices were necessarily ineffective within the stories that these authors/creators chose to tell. But it does take the character in a fundamentally different direction. Not only does it eliminate one of the deliberate parallels in his and Mary's backgrounds, but it also alters the root of the character's problems.

There are a lot of messed-up reasons for why he is the way he is, but what it ultimately comes down to is this: Colin is unloved. He has never been loved. Like Mary, he exhibits the behavior he does because he has never learned how to connect with others. It's easy to miss this about him, easy to get so caught up in what a horrid little brat he genuinely is that it might not immediately occur to the reader how loveless his existence has been--every bit as loveless as Mary's. His mother died giving birth to him, his father rejects him because of this, and his caretakers are all "tired of him" and (in one case) have even said in front of him that it would be better for him and everyone else if he died.

No wonder he has such ambivalence toward living. Dickon tells Mary once that his mother believes that unwantedness is "th' worst thing on earth for a child," that "Them as is not wanted scarce ever thrives." And that is the root of Colin's problems, the reason his expectation out of life is to die. This is more of the point than any psychological condition that we might be able to pin on the character--those things are symptoms, not causes. This is why developing strong friendships is so important to his arc, why his getting hugged (possibly for the first time in his life) by Mrs. Sowerby and telling her that he wishes she were his mother is such a poignant moment, why his arc ends with being reunited with and accepted by his father.

(Weirdly enough, an adaptation that did seem to pick up on this was the 1986 musical, in which Colin is introduced with a solo entitled "No One Needs Me." A bit too on-the-nose and self-aware for him to be able to spell out like that, perhaps, but as a summation of the problem? Spot on.)

If, as recent adaptations and retellings interpret him, he is a child who has been loved and has lost that, his behavior as Burnett depicts comes from a different place and possibly makes less sense, his whole character changes, and the themes shift. He becomes someone who needs to work through traditional grief--which in the original book is his father's arc, not his--rather than someone who needs to learn that his existence has meaning and that he can matter to other people (and they to him).

And I think that's why a lot of these reinterpretations of the character feel a bit off to me? There tends to be so much concern for remolding him in light of themes of disability or mental health (which are significant to his character! but not all that there is) that the original point of his being as much an emotionally neglected and unloved child as Mary can get lost in translation.

[hello-nichya-here]

I know this is out of nowhere but your English is very good. I think my vocabulary and grammar have actually improved since I've started reading your fanfictions and metas. So thanks. Say, do you sometimes struggle to express yourself in english when you have to actually start speaking despite that literally seconds ago you had a clear structured sentence in your head?

Oh anon, you're very sweet, but I'm a linguistic disaster. Behold! The struggles of speaking more than one language!

Yeah, every now and again I struggle to properly express myself in english, even with a coherent sentence having just been formed in the back of my mind - and I've had it happen when I'm speaking PORTUGUESE too. It's annoying.

Sometimes I forget that I'm speaking a second language, and my brain just kind of goes to the "default" (brazilian-portuguese) pronounciation of some words, especially when I’m tired. I remember a few months ago, when @signlessacolyte, the main witness of my fuck ups, was introducing me to System Of A Down and he just couldn’t understand what song was I talking about, because I pronounced “Chop Suey” the brazilian way, which is completely different from the american one. This week, for whatever reason, my brain randomly decided that it now hated the word “pirates” and would not let me say it right ever again.

My autism can sometimes complicate things too, since I tend to speak VERY fast when I'm talking about any topic I really like, and I end up slurring and mispronouncing things a lot, regardless of which language I'm speaking. It can also happen when I’m surprised, and whenever I’m angry I just HAVE to switch back to the brazilian insults and curse words because the english ones often cannot properly express my rage.

I also make a ton of spelling mistakes. I have to google words all the time to make sure I'm writting them correctly, and every now and again my brain just refuses to accept that some words are NOT the same in portuguese and english. I wrote "special" as "especial" so many times that @dragomer mocks me over it all the freaking time.

[sbnslver]

Don’t Be A Fool

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female! Reader

Warnings: Fluff! Also talk about an injury No Multiverse of Madness Spoilers!

A/N: IM BACK!! I will say this again STEPHEN STRANGE IS THE BEST MAN AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. Now that school is ending soon I can get back to writing! Requests are open.

Word Count: 1.22k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Out of all the things that could have gone wrong, this has to be the most embarrassing. You were attempting to hang up a new shower curtain when you lost your footing on the side of the bathtub. You landed on your foot the wrong way and heard an unsettling crack. You cringed at the noise as you came tumbling down. To make matters worse, you’re home alone and this fall has rendered you immobile.

You sort through all the possible options for your next move, which are either calling an ambulance and causing a huge unnecessary scene or reaching your best friend, whom you just so happen to have a huge crush on, Stephen Strange.

Since you live at the near top of your apartment complex in the bustling city of New York, you opt for the latter and lose a bit of your dignity. As you’re sitting on the floor of your bathroom with a throbbing ankle, you reach into your pockets and pull out your phone, calling Stephen. You’d figure it was best since he’s both a full-time wizard and a part-time doctor.

The phone rings a total of 3 times before the other end is answered and you hear the low voice of your best friend.

"Y/N? What’s wrong? You never call me." The worried tone in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

"Nothing special, just sitting around, bored... you?" You answered as coolly as you could.

"And for some reason, I have trouble believing that," he sighed. "Tell me what happened before I portal there." He said sternly.

"Well you see, I was putting up my shower curtain and-"

"I’m on my way, don’t move." He hung up before you could even explain yourself.

You sigh, defeated. You rest your back against your tub and cross your arms, patiently awaiting for Stephen to show up and reprimand you as he always did.

"Y/N where are you?" You heard Stephen shout from down the hall.

"In the bathroom, where else?" You replied, you guessed this was the price for free healthcare.

"Geez, really"? Stephen sighed at the sight before him. You were sprawled out on your bathroom floor with your ankle propped up with visible and prominent swelling. "Let’s get you outta here." He extended his hand outward to you, waiting for you to grab hold. "Hold my hand."

"What?" you needed to know if you heard him correctly.

"Just hold it so I can get you to your room." He rolled his eyes, getting impatient.

You grabbed his warm hand and he hoisted you up from the ground, getting a small inhale of your breath from the sudden pressure being put on your ankle.

"Hang on to me, don’t put pressure on it, it’s only going to make it worse." 

You both slowly made your way down the hall and into your bedroom, hopping and limping every step of the way. Stephen grabbed both of your hands as he helped you to sit gently on your bed while he got to work examining your injury. The intimacy and closeness caused your cheeks to burn.

"Well, the good news is that it isn’t broken and I know a simple spell that can reduce the swelling." He suddenly spoke, his eyebrows creasing, and you had to fight the urge to smooth it over. "I hate seeing you like this, you know, but I’m glad you trust me enough to ask for my help." He gave a small smile and said, "I really appreciate our friendship."

Your heart broke into thousands of pieces as the last word of his sentence echoed in your head. Of course, he thought of you as just a friend. Your face must have resembled your messy emotions because Stephen shot up and was frantically asking if you were in any pain and where.

"No, I think I’m okay. I just need to lie down," you stammered, struggling to keep your composure in front of him.

"I think you may be right. If you need anything, and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to call me." And without another word, he vanished completely, leaving you alone with your thoughts and racing heart.

Your ankle was long forgotten and all you could think about was how your doubts were true. Stephen really didn’t think of you as anything more than a friend. You know you shouldn’t be as sad as you are, but it’s hard when, for the better half of your adulthood, you harbored feelings for him and you secretly hoped he had felt the same way. It’s as if you wasted your time going after him.

Almost as quickly as he left, Stephen came back, carrying a small bag with him.

"Hey I know you said you wanted to sleep, but I figure if you’re really in pain you can take some over the counter meds-" His eyes finally met yours as you were sitting on your bed. Streams of tears left streaks on your face before you could quickly hide them away. "Are you in pain? Did my spell not work?" He came and gently sat down next to you, placing his warm hand on your shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. 

He was worried about you. It was the worst feeling because you liked it. His worrying about you as much as he did made you feel special. "Why are you doing this to me?" you whispered to yourself, hoping he wouldn’t hear you.

"What do you mean?" He straightened up and looked at you fearfully, scared of what you might say next. "I care about you. I want to take care of you." He lifted your chin to force your eyes to meet his. "This isn’t easy for me to say, but you are so important to me and I’d do anything for you. And I know I’m not the best guy, but I really try to be for you." His eyes held the greatest amount of sincerity you had ever seen. Your eyes started to water at his sudden confession. He wiped them away before they could travel down your cheeks.

"Stephen," you sighed, "being friends with you isn’t enough. I-we can’t be friends anymore…it’s not enough for me." Your hands went up to cradle his, which had been holding your face. You brought them down to your lap where you rubbed your thumbs over his hand, giving him time to say something, anything.

Instead of words, he quickly pulled you into him, wrapping you in a bone-crushing hug. His hand went to cradle your head and slowly rock back and forth, "Oh I'm so glad you said that." He said it in your ear, petting your hair. "I like you too, so much. You're everything. You're my best friend, and I could never ask for anything more."

“Thank you Stephen, for letting me into your life and allowing me to start this new adventure with you.” You smiled from ear to ear allowing yourself to wrap your own arms around him and give him a tight squeeze. You felt a soft kiss in your hair and you felt the rapid beating of his heart resembling your own. 

“I’m never letting you go by the way, you’re in this for the long run” he laughed. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[theanonymousloser]

idiot boys

pairing: Regulus Black x fem!marauder!reader

requested: no

word count: 1k

warnings: cursing, douchebags, suggestive comments, it's kind of trash but whatever, says the word sex but nothing actually happens

description: regulus anonymously gets revenge for the reader after she has a date go wrong

Y/n L/n was a natural at Transfiguration. She had always had a knack for it, and McGonagall had taken advantage of that. Whenever someone was struggling in that class, McGonagall would switch up the seating chart so that Y/n would sit next to that person and help them. Y/n was extremely patient and also a natural teacher. Eventually, Y/n began to catch on, but it didn't bug her. If anything, it encouraged her that simply helping someone to do a spell correctly could have such a big impact.

It was because of this that McGonagall had asked Y/n to tutor Regulus Black. Y/n had, of course, agreed, and the two began meeting every Saturday morning in an empty classroom.

The two grew rather close throughout the year as they continued to meet.

"Oh, Regulus, I forgot to tell you that we can't meet next week," Y/n said as the two were packing up one week, "I have a date in Hogsmeade."

"Ooh," Regulus said in a teasing voice, "can I ask who this special guy is?"

"It's uh Alex MacBride," she blushed.

"The Ravenclaw?" he asked, surprised. He had heard some far-from-pleasant things about MacBride. But that wasn't going to stop him from being happy for her.

"Yeah," she smiled. "Do you know him?"

"No, I just know of him," he explained, "have fun."

"Thanks," she smiled at him, "I'll see you in two weeks."

The next week seemed to take forever as Y/n got more and more excited for her date with MacBride.

"Girls, I need your help," Y/n said, exasperated, sitting down with Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary at breakfast once the day had finally come.

"What can we do for ya, Y/n?" Marlene asked.

"I don't have any idea what to wear, I can't do my makeup to save my life, and my hair doesn't seem to want to cooperate."

The girls laughed and agreed to help her.

Once Y/n was finally dressed, and her makeup and hair had been perfected, she looked at herself in the mirror.

"Thanks, girls," she sighed.

"Of course, Y/n," Lily said, "now go get 'em."

Y/n giggled as she left the room, on her way to where she would meet Alex.

...

"I had fun today, Alex," Y/n said as the two walked through Hogsmeade. He had held the door for her, pulled out a chair for her, he had even paid for her lunch. It had been a perfect day.

"Yeah, so where do you want to do this?" He asked her.

"I'm sorry?" She had no idea what he was talking about.

"You just said you had a good time. I did too, where do you wanna do this? My room or yours?" Realization dawned on her as he repeated his question.

"I'm sorry Alex, but I think you've got me wrong. I'm not going to have sex with you after our first date!" She exclaimed.

"Well excuse me for thinking that! You're the one who's been leading me on all bloody day!" He accused her.

"I have not! All I said was that I had a good time!"

"Whatever, I don't think this is gonna work out." He muttered before walking away.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," she muttered before sitting down on a nearby bench.

"You can come out now, I know you're there." She said to what looked to be thin air. Keyword: looked.

James and Remus came out from under James' invisibility cloak as Sirius and Peter came out from behind a bush in dog form and rat form respectively.

James, the mother of the group, rushed to sit next to Y/n, draping an arm around her.

"It's alright, Y/n, there are plenty of other fish in the sea," James comforted her.

Sirius, however, took a different approach.

"I mean, who does he think he is?! I'm bloody gay and I know that no girl wants to bloody have sex on the first fucking date! I'm gonna kill him." He ranted.

"No!" Y/n stopped him, "please just leave it alone. Don't do anything."

The boys all looked at each other, having expected her to want them to do something to him as a way of getting revenge.

"Are you sure, Y/n?" Remus asked.

"Yes. He would be the type to make up some rumor and twist it so that it's all my fault and that I'm some manipulator or some shit. Just promise me that you won't do anything."

"Fine," Sirius sighed, disappointed.

Unbeknownst to the group, however, a certain younger brother of a member of the group had heard the interaction between Y/n and MacBride and had had a similar response to that of his brother, only he didn't hear the part about doing nothing about it.

...

"I told you boys not to do anything!" Y/n scolded her friends as she sat down. MacBride had woken up to bright pink hair, and the words "respect women" and "no means no" written across his face.

"We didn't, I swear it!" Sirius replied. "Though I wish we did," he muttered.

"Trust me, Lily already scolded us and we have had to tell at least five other people that we didn't do it," Remus explained.

"Plus if we had done anything, everyone would definitely know it was us," James said.

"Well if you lot didn't do anything then who did?"

[sapphicquill]

congrats on 100 followers friend <3 may I ask for anything with ler!Fjord bc the way you wrote teasing in your TAZ fic was so good? or lee!Lucretia during the Stolen Century arc being tickled out of her antisocial little shell if you're in a TAZ mood :) -Chock

Whoops. This is what happens when my whole life gets flipped upside down and I have to move cross-country back home out of no where! Sorry for the long wait, I'm finally making headway on these fics. I owe the entirety of this fic to @ticklishnonsense's honey-tongued because that’s the Ultimate Teasey Ler!Fjord fic and to @poesparakeet-fics for the plot because my smol brain could not come up with anything good and she gave me THE GOODS. Hope you enjoy, @chockfullofsecrets!

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Fjord, Caleb Widogast

Wordcount: 2423

After everything they’ve all been through, Fjord thinks he can handle most things. Spitting up salt water in the mornings, nearly getting impaled by strangers on a regular basis, Nott rifling through his shit—while he’d rather not deal with all of that bullshit, he can and that’s the important thing.

But the crushing weight of all the damn pining happening between Caleb and Essek might be the one thing Fjord absolutely cannot handle for any longer.

It had started innocently enough. Hands brushing and secret smiles and eyes briefly meeting before diverting, full of nerves and excitement and swirling butterflies. He’d experienced some of the same with Jester, but the two wizards were starting to get insufferable. It was painfully obvious to anyone in the room that they had a thing for one another, and even if it wasn’t, Fjord had overheard Caleb whining to Jester more than once about the entire situation, so it wasn’t like he was entirely oblivious to his own crush.

But apparently perpetually sad and stuffy wizards are really bad at just admitting what was right in front of their faces. Fjord’s worried that one of them might just explode soon, and that’s the entirely altruistic reasoning that finally inspires him to insert himself into the situation.

Caleb’s problem, Fjord thinks, is one of confidence. He gets too caught up in his own keen mind, tangling everything up in his head and overthinking and overanalyzing and panicking and deconstructing until everything’s just a jumbled mess of knots. He just needs a little push is all. A little something to nudge him past the trouble that is thinking and into acting. And Fjord thinks he knows a fairly good method of encouragement.

Thus, Fjord is currently standing in the doorway of the mansion library, trying not to reveal his presence too early. Caleb is folded over a desk with a pinched expression on his face that Fjord knows by now means he’s reached some sort of roadblock in whatever he was working on. In other words: a perfect time for an interruption.

“Productive afternoon?”

It’s a testament to how close the group has gotten that Caleb only sort-of flinches at the sudden sound of Fjord’s voice.

“Ah, nein, not really,” the wizard replies as he straightens up. His back makes an ominous cracking noise as he sits up and Fjord winces in sympathy.

“Gods, then maybe it’s time to take a break, hm?”

“Ja, a break…” Caleb trails off, eyes drifting back to the scattered parchment and books on the desk. Fjord resists the temptation to roll his eyes at the utterly predictability of their headstrong wizard.

“Okay, well now I’m making you take a break, Widogast,” he says as he marches swiftly over to Caleb and practically hauls him out of his chair. Caleb, unsurprisingly, goes willingly, letting himself be shuffled over to a nearby sofa.

With a huff, Caleb sits and begins massaging his temples, willing away either a physical ache or a swirling mass of snarled thoughts and ideas. Fjord lowers himself down next to the human and pretends like he isn’t thrilled over what he’s about to do.

A comfortable silence descends then. After a few more vigorous rubs, Caleb leans his head back against the leather of the sofa and closes his eyes and Fjord figures this is the best chance to spring the trap.

Quick as a slash of his falchion, Fjord twists from his spot next to Caleb and pulls him down into a horizontal position before caging the human in from above. He hovers over the now-prone wizard and tries not to feel too smug as Caleb yelps but doesn’t move an inch to try to wiggle away.

“Scheiße, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something,” Fjord says casually as he can. Caleb gives him an exasperated look, complete with raised eyebrow and suspicious frown.

“And this ‘something’ requires you to pin me to a sofa?”

Fjord grins before scooping both of Caleb’s wrists up with one hand and pulling them above his head. Exasperation shifts quickly into a mix of disbelief, fear, and anticipation and Fjord is lucky that around his friends, Caleb wears his emotions very clearly on his face.

“Well,” the warlock starts, “I kind of figured that this particular topic would send you scampering off if I didn’t take some preventative measures.”

A fiery blush colors Caleb’s cheeks and Fjord tries not to laugh.

“And something tells me I thought correctly.”

Caleb makes a noise not unlike one Fjord’s heard from Frumpkin and finally starts to struggle lightly in his grasp, like his body is only now catching up with the rest of him. Fjord lets him, figuring that letting the wizard work himself into a bit of a tizzy will just make his own task easier. Caleb’s terribly predictable. As the human squirms minutely under him, Fjord lets his free hand curve subtly into a claw and hovers it just next to Caleb’s lower ribs.

“Now, see, I also think you might benefit from a little preemptive encouragement, because you’re the most stubborn fucker I’ve ever met when you have to talk about anything personal...”

Fjord trails off when he notices that Caleb’s eyes have locked onto his hand, mostly because he knows that the brilliant mage has connected all of the appropriate dots and will voice a protest in three, two—

“N-nein, Fjord, wait just a moment, there is no need for—”

Fjord slowly flutters his fingers, still poised a hair’s breadth from the stretched expanse of Caleb’s ribs, and Caleb cuts himself off with a hitched laugh-gasp, eyes wide as saucers.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate right now,” Fjord says, the edges of his voice tinged with a low growl as he keeps the motion of his fingers going. Caleb doesn’t really do much aside from grow ever so slightly redder in the face.

Without further preamble, Fjord finally moves his hand to meet Caleb’s torso. It’s like the wizard has been hit with a successful Thunderwave—his whole body jolts before tensing up so tightly he trembles. Continuing the fluttering from before, Fjord traces across the space between Caleb’s two lowest ribs and grins when Caleb lets out something between a giggle and a whine.

“Gods, you’re so easy to rile up, you know that?”

Caleb’s giggling picks up at Fjord’s words. He’d have pity on the wizard if it wasn’t so adorable. Still gently teasing at the softness of Caleb’s lower ribs, the half-orc leans forward until his mouth is right next to his victim’s ear.

“You’re just that ticklish, huh?”

Caleb thrashes, throwing his head from side to side so rapidly Fjord would be worried the human would hurt himself if he hadn’t watched this happen numerous times before. For good measure, he lets his fingers drift up Caleb’s ribs and lets out a small laugh himself as the giggles morph into airy, full-blown laughter. Exactly as planned.

“So you and Essek,” Fjord says casually as he straightens back up, pitching his voice a little louder to be heard over Caleb’s bubbly laughter. The wizard definitely seems to register his words if the cut-off gasp and even more desperate wiggles are any indication. Fjord laughs a little to himself at the adorable way Caleb scrunches his nose when the increased movement does little to deter his attack. Taking a little pity, Fjord pushes on, his free fingers swirling tight circles up and down Caleb’s right side.

“You know he likes you too, right?”

Fjord’s not exactly sure humans are supposed to turn that shade of red, but Jester’s got healing spells to spare right now, so he continues.

“And as amusing as it is watching you two dance around each other, it’s getting a bit old.”

“B-bitte, Fjord—!”

Caleb’s own laughter cuts off whatever plea was going to escape next. The wizard flops his head a bit side to side, like if he shakes enough he’ll clear Fjord’s words like trapped water from his ears. It’s downright precious and one hundred percent ineffective.

Adjusting his grip on Caleb’s wrists, Fjord lets his fingers trail up his captive’s ribs in the same slow pace he knows will drive Caleb up the damn wall. It’s a little impressive, actually, how easily this light tickling can take their resident wizard apart. Particularly useful at certain times. He can feel Caleb trembling under him, laughs high and desperate as the light tracing fingertips slowly migrate up to what both Jester and Molly affectionately refer to as his worst “death spots.”

“So, here’s my idea.”

His fingers flutter just below the space where his holsters normally are—fortunate Caleb feels comfortable and safe enough to remove them when at the house—and the wizard groans through his laughter.

“Either you promise that you’ll confess to Essek the next time he’s around, or I’ll just have to keep tickling you forever. How’s that sound?”

“Wh-aaat? Bitte, no, that is e-eehviil!”

“That’s kind of the point, bud,” Fjord replies around another laugh of his own. He floats his fingers up the scant few millimeters to the space between Caleb’s uppermost ribs without prompting and hopes that the wail the human lets out doesn’t worry the rest of the Nein. (It shouldn’t, not with the frequency Caleb makes noises like that.)

“I’m not letting up until you tell me the first words out of your mouth when you see Essek next are ‘Can we talk somewhere privately, Shadowhand?’” Fjord pitches his voice into a terrifically awful imitation of a Zemnian accent that has Caleb laughing, somehow, even harder. Though, on second thought, that might have more to do with the rapid little scribbles he’s got focused on the space above Caleb’s top rib than his attempt at accentwork.

Unsurprisingly, Caleb doesn’t say anything much in response, instead throwing all of his effort into laughing and squirming ineffectively. Fjord keeps a careful ear out for any hint of the safeword Jester had insisted everyone know about and respect upon pain of near-death, but the only thing coming out of Caleb is whimpered begging and a spray of foreign curses. Perfect.

Fjord takes a split second to send a silent apology to Jester, who will no doubt be massively upset she missed out on assisting Fjord with this bit of encouragement, but this was his game right now, dammit, and it was time to go for the kill.

(Would it be worth the inevitable tickling the blue tiefling would dish out later? Most definitely.)

“Alright, well, suit yourself, Widogast.”

With that, Fjord moves the tickling to Caleb’s exposed underarm and focuses the entirety of his attention on making the human melt.

With an impressive amount of core strength, Caleb attempts to jackknife in half to throw Fjord off. Fortunately, their wizard’s tricks are well known by now. Fjord barely budges as he keeps up the spidering under Caleb’s arm, letting his fingers trail just the slightest bit up the underside of Caleb’s bicep before reversing back down to the soft spot just above Caleb’s uppermost rib.

The fight drains out of the mage just as quickly as it revved up, leaving him loose and floppy and lost in the throws of his own cackling. Fjord would feel bad if he didn’t know how much Caleb was enjoying himself. Time to step things up a notch.

“You know how to get me to stop, Caleb. Do you really like the thought of me tickling you like this more than the idea of confessing to a crush you know is damn-well mutual? Really seems like it.”

More wailing, more thrashing, but still, no dice. Maybe a slightly different approach…

“Gods above, you’re just too ticklish for your own good, aren’t you?”

As always, Caleb responds viscerally to the mere word and that, of all things, seems to be the final straw.

“Scheiße, bitte! Habt mitleid! Ohhkay, I pr-promise!”

“You promise what?”

“Oh please, I caa-aan’t—!”

Fjord shifts from light tracing along Caleb’s top ribs to a solid press of his palm, steadying the human as his laughter slowly eases up. After a few gulps of air, Caleb continues.

“I will tell Essek how I truly feel when we next encounter him, I swear to you!”

“You’re absolutely promising me you’ll spill about your deep, undying love for Essek Thelyss the very moment he’s within twenty yards of you?” Fjord taunts, curling his fingers back into a claw at Caleb’s right side. The human tenses and anticipatory giggles start bubbling from him almost instantly.

“Ja, ja, I a-ahh-m!”

“Good!” Fjord says brightly, pulling his hand away from Caleb’s squirming form. He smiles down at Caleb, who looks about ready to protest the large hand still pining his wrists to the sofa, before lowering himself to speak directly into the wizard’s ear.

“And maybe after you two have worked everything out, I’ll have a little chat with Essek myself about how much you like this particular method of torture.”

Caleb looks a bit like he’s swallowed a toad.

“F-fjord, mein Gott, wait—”

“I’m sure Molly and Jester would be more than happy to help me tell him all of the best ways to tickle you senseless, hmm? They’re tieflings, you know how honest they get when tickling comes up. They’ll just gush about how much you love it when we wreck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

He isn’t even tickling him anymore, but Caleb is giggling, light and bubbly and tortured, all from Fjord’s teasing alone.

“Hell, maybe we’ll all get you the next time Essek comes by the tower. How’d you like that, him watching you get tickled by every single one of us until you cry and knowing you love every minute of it?”

Caleb’s just babbling in Zemnian through his laughter, eyes squeezed shut and a grin pulling wide at his lips.

“D’you think he’d join in if we asked him to?”

Caleb just keeps laughing. Fjord grins. Mission successful.

[saphirered]

HIIII! It's me again (Eldritch knight reader) sorry I kinda dipped out but I hope you are having a great day! I was wondering if you could do one last request for that mini series of requests, where Essek finally asks reader on a real date and it's going great (Knight could notice some figures following them *cough* M9+verin *cough*??) there's some flirting/teasing but sadly the date comes to an end and reader walks essek home, they say their goodbyes for the night but not before reader finally kisses Essek and whispers a goodnight!

Hi! Welcome back. Now of course this wouldn't be me if halfway through writing I realised this was turning way too long so it'll be a two-parter again to keep it readable. Hope you don't mind. Any way, here's the first part so I hope you enjoy! 😘

-

A long day of disasters with the Nein returning just in time to be thrust into more relentless hours of study with Essek wasn’t exactly how you envisioned to spend your day and luckily for you Essek is a merciful soul, when it comes to you that is. Seeing how battered and bruised you were, and mentally exhausted he refused to let you touch his precious tomes or even scribble a single note on paper. He had even gone as far as making said smaller items disappear into the nothingness. Damn wrist pocket spell. Essek was determined. You needed rest. He’d make sure you got it.

So instead of hours upon hours spent at Essek’s home he opted for staying with you retreating to the upstairs of the Xhorhaus and finding the both of you a comfy spot to spend your time in a more relaxed environment. Essek sits, back against the tree while you lay sprawled across the floor next to his outstretched legs eyes closed as the wizard reads to you. He may not have allowed you to read for yourself as to not overwork yourself but the compromise you convinced him to was agreeable. More than agreeable if you’re honest.

It’s no secret you like spending time together as you do so a lot. You may be a little more affectionate with each other than say for example with Caleb or Jester. It doesn’t go unnoticed Essek likes you, if anything the man’s made it pretty clear and vice versa. Neither of you have just ever acted on it. With everything going on in your lives, how could you? You’re a ragtag adventurer with no allegiance to kingdom or country. He’s the bloody spymaster of the Dynasty. It’s not exactly a conventional prospect of a future, nor is it likely to succeed with the kind of lives you live. Could you really afford that kind of struggle? Maybe, if you were willing to take the risk but lately things have been hectic and this moment of relaxation beneath the tree at the top of this tower is the first moment of peace either of you have known in a long time.

You swear, you’re paying attention. You might still have to reread the whole book again as you’re just entranced by the sound of Essek’s voice. The man could make anything sound interesting. Give him those pages from that Iva lady back at the Chastity’s Nook in Zadash and Essek could make even that sound like a master piece. Though in hindsight, maybe best not as you think he might not be able to get past the first few sentences himself. The cringe.

“Are you still listening?” Essek’s reading voice breaks in favour of the question as he watches you drift off with a smile on your face. He’s almost afraid to ask the question but is unsure if that’s because you’ve grown tired or the subject bores you too much.

“Hm?” You perk up turning your head to the side and looking at the wizard. The exhaustion is written over your face but doesn’t diminish the content smile you present.

“Perhaps that is enough for the day?” Essek suggests closing the book and sits up a little straighter. He places the book by his side as you sit up and go to reach for it. Essek’s quicker and places his hand firmly on top of it and prevents you from taking it. He’s very sure you’d have no trouble retrieving the book if you really wanted to and maybe he’d like you to try, just a little, but you’re tired and need rest. Not fill your mind with pages of knowledge attempting to cram in the words. You’re a good study but even the best of studies cannot combat the banes of exhaustion.

“It is getting late anyway.” Essek says as you roll back and find yourself, head leaning against his thigh, looking up at the drow with a pout as he insinuates he’ll have to leave soon. You catch him off guard but he’s not opposed to the sense of affection and comfort you radiate. Physical affection is rare between the two of you especially since he’s very new to it in such contexts. He’s still getting used to it and he’d be lying if he said it’s unwelcome.

“If you say so.” You stay like this for a few more minutes before the ruckus downstairs pulls you out of your moment and you’re reminded Essek needs to head back to his own home. He still has business to attend to, business he’s been procrastinating in favour of spending more time with you. You sit back up, swing your legs beneath yourself and rise to your feet offering Essek a hand to help him to his feet.

“Essek, do you have a moment.” Caleb calls over as he enters the living space. The drow looks at you as if to ask if you know what this might be about or more like your permission to allow himself to be whisked away by the wizard interrupting your goodbye. You shrug.

“I should probably try and prevent this kitchen fire waiting to happen. I take it Cad’s still out getting groceries?” Caleb nods and you sigh shudder preparing for the oncoming disaster rushing into the kitchen like a valiant hero, albeit a little more domestic than your usual adventures, valiant no less.

A conversation between two wizards in one room and a homemade fluffernutter dismantled in another you reunite with Essek. There he is floating in all his glory, cloak back around his shoulders you see him off. Essek seems a little… nervous? Is that the right word? So you give Caleb a look but he acts all innocent. You know better than to trust that. Nevermind, you’ll have an easier time getting it out of Essek than Caleb if you need to. Caleb sends the others off to their own business persuading them to clean up before Caduceus returns and finds his precious kitchen in disarray or any other state he didn’t leave it in before he left. The firbolg is quite protective of his pride and joy. You lead Essek over to the hall but interpose yourself between him and the door crossing your arms and tapping your foot expectedly.

“So is this where you tell me what you and Caleb talked about or am I going to have to work for it?” The look you give Essek makes him want to spill all the beans right then right there but he wants to do this the right way and not be a blabbering incoherent mess. He has to do this the right way. You deserve that much; if not for the way he feels then simply for every effort you’d put in your actions to do with him.

“It’s to do with you.” Oh? Now you’re curious. “I asked Caleb for some advise.” What in the worlds would he need to go to Caleb for to get advise on to do with you? Essek’s not one to admit lacking either skill or knowledge when it’s about people and even less so to confide in another in such a way because by all means, his little side bar with with the redhead was anything but an interrogation to get information about character, motives and possible leverage like he would have navigated a political encounter.

“And what, pray tell could Caleb be lecturing you on?” You grin with he gentle stroke at Essek’s ego. If you know one thing, sweet-talking will get you everywhere with this man. Not that you’d minded. Not that you were lying. You’d never lie about such things. But you’re also not against using your opinions to gently persuade the drow in revealing what he’s hiding.

“Matters of heart. It seems I am at a disadvantage when expressing them to the subject of my affections.” Essek admits and you watch the skin of his cheeks to become a darker shade of purple. Damn, this is not going the way he envisioned it. Like a rock being tossed into the elemental plane of water, sinking into that eternal ocean.

“Oh really, now? It seems to me you’re doing perfectly fine.” Essek laughs awkwardly and looks to the floor to gather his bearings but when he feels your hand rise to his cheek and lift his gaze to look you in the eye, when you step in a little closer to him. He knows you’re teasing, or at least partially teasing. He also knows best to rip the bandaid off quickly and hope you’ll be merciful in your answer.

“I was wondering if you’d join me on an outing, tomorrow if it suits you?” Essek feels the words leave his lips. He doesn’t blurt them out like some lovesick fool and is thankful for that at least.

“Of course, will we be going to the library again? Or another shopping trip? Need me to carry more of those heavy papers again? Please can we do this time without any assassins sent to kill you? I think we could both do with a break for once.” You laugh and it becomes quite clear to Essek his phrasing might have been a little off so he’ll have to correct himself. Great. Just what he needs. Make this more awkward and difficult for himself than it already is. Maybe he would have been better off blurting out the words like a lovesick fool.

“What I had in mind would be more like a planned outing, a break from our usual lives and away from the responsibilities we both carry.” Essek clarifies and the copper drops for you.

“Essek, are you asking me to go on a date with you?” Yes. Yes. For the love of the gods, the Luxon and all that is sacred thank you for speaking the words correctly instead of leaving him to go in circles until he can’t anymore and dies from embarrassment. Why does he always turn into a mess when it comes to you? Because he likes you, a lot, maybe even more than just like. Definitely more than just that.

“That is exactly what I have been attempting and failing to convey, yes.” He admits ashamed. Your laugh makes for a good consolation though, no matter your answer. Up until now the possibility of your answer whichever outcome, had never been a bother to him as he never really gave asking you a thought, for his own sake or this may just have gone much worse with his tendency to overthink. In suspense he awaits. Not even the powers of dunamis at his fingertips could make the passage of time before your answer feel like less when in reality you barely missed a beat.

“Of course. I’d love nothing more.” You caress his cheek. Your smile grows from amusement to joy and Essek couldn’t be happier. He felt himself slipping into a smile of his own. Essek let himself go in that joy and relief you accepted rather than the stress of the actual date tomorrow. He’ll worry about that one later.

[knickynoo]

I loved your recent post about Marty and his ADHD! It was soo spot on. And, I saw in the tags that you mentioned Alex Keaton and how you believe he’s not neurotypical either. Care to elaborate? Do you have any headcanons about neurodivergent™ Alex? I’d love to hear your thoughts! :)

Oh, hey, thank you! Marty having ADHD seems to be one of the most common headcanons in the fandom, so that post was a lot of fun to work on.

As far as Alex goes...yes, I will elaborate, BUT I'm putting it under a cut because ya girl is really going to E L A B O R A T E.

I've mentioned before that I think Alex's overall personality/demeanor comes from a variety of different places. Some parts of who he is are likely caused by all the pressure put on him to be a high achiever, due to being so academically gifted from a young age. Other parts are due to being overly coddled and spoiled by Elyse and Steven. Still, there's probably a part of Alex that genuinely enjoys being difficult and getting a rise out of people. Then, there's the obvious anxiety he struggles with, which even MJF has talked about in some interviews when discussing how he approached playing a guy like Alex.

"Giftedness" & anxiety are already included under the umbrella of neurodiversity but in Alex's case, I actually think there's even more to it than that. Yeah, Alex is a funny character whose actions/words are so often played for laughs. He can also be a really irksome character when he's dishing out the sarcasm and being selfish. But I also can't help but look at Alex and think, This guy is just so not NT and he is struggling, somebody Help Him. And since Alex P. Keaton is one of my favorite characters AND I love to analyze/ do deep dives AND the topic of neurodiversity is a particularly strong interest of mine... well, here you go....

Mans is autistic.

• Difficulty with social cues and "reading the room". Seriously, there are so many instances of everyone around him all being on the same page about something or dealing with something serious, and Alex walks in and just proceeds to miss every single cue people throw his way. Two scenes that pop into my head, in particular, are the Reflective Pajamas one and the Clam Puff one, lol.

• He frequently struggles with putting himself in other people's shoes: Alex is certainly shown to be a compassionate person. He can recognize when people are hurting and will do the right thing, but sometimes he needs some help to get there. It seems that a lot of the time, all he knows is how he feels or thinks about something, and it doesn't occur to him that another person could be experiencing it differently. Then, once Steven, Elyse, Ellen, etc, break the situation down for him and explicitly say things like, Hey, that person's feelings are hurt because... or Here is the exact reason this person is angry... Alex is finally able to connect the dots, which usually leads to him being like, I hadn't ever thought about that/ I didn't mean it. (Of course, there are also times where Alex is just purposely being a jerk, but I'm not focusing on those)

• Specific, intense interests: Politics & economics, obviously. It's made well-known that Alex has been completely fixated on these two areas since he was a toddler. He's prone to enthusiastic, overly detailed discourse on the topics and either doesn't care or can't pick up on when people are growing bored at listening to him.

• Also, can we talk about how it's established that Alex's favorite toy as a little kid was a box? Like, he carried it everywhere, played with it, slept with it, and was devastated when it fell apart. Idk, I know kids can be attached to random objects, but it's just interesting that Alex is noted as having been enamored with a box. I'm just picturing little Alex, ignoring all the toys he has in favor of just sitting and staring at a box, and his parents are like, Yeah, this is normal.

• Highly intelligent, bordering on genius/prodigy (He was doing long-division at like, 3 years old) but has difficulty connecting with peers & making friends: This is most prominently shown in "A, My Name is Alex," where we see glimpses of various events in his childhood. In the scene where Alex meets Greg, we learn that Alex spends recess inside, helping the teacher plan her lessons rather than going out to socialize with his classmates. He's bewildered at Greg's invitation to come play, meaning he likely spent the majority of his childhood on his own due to being considered an outcast by his peers and just generally relating more easily to adults. (He also mentions taking night classes at a local college at age SEVEN. So like. If the long-division story and night class thing are taken to be actual facts of Alex's childhood...we're looking at something similar to hyperlexia/hypernumeracy here. This kid must have been bored out his mind having to sit through elementary school if he was that advanced)

• Very literal at times/ misses sarcasm: Interestingly enough, APK is very fond of being sarcastic but doesn't do so well when he's on the receiving end of it. Someone will make a joke or spin the sarcasm towards him for once, and he'll either just stare blankly like ???? or smile/thank them and they're like, Yeah, that wasn't a compliment, or, I was kidding.

• Black and white/ inflexible thinking: This might be the biggest one. Alex is super concerned with rules and ensuring that everyone is following them correctly. There's right and there's wrong, with no gray areas or middle ground as far as he's concerned. My favorite instance of this is in the episode where the family goes to visit Steven's mother and Rob, Alex's uncle, is telling a story of how Steven got in trouble as a kid for refusing to put his name in the upper right corner of his test papers. Everyone around the table laughs...except for Alex, who is deeply troubled by the information.

Just...Steven's delivery. The way he pauses and stares at Alex before replying with a ridiculous punishment that obviously didn't happen, but Alex shows no signs of being aware of or amused at the joke and is just glad his father faced the consequences of his actions. It's great, and a prime example of Alex's preoccupation with "the rules."

Another good example (& one that crosses into the empathy category as well) is "Big Brother is Watching", where Alex exposes a cheating scandal at school (that involves Mallory) and then can't wrap his mind around why everyone is angry at him when he gets the students who were involved suspended. He spends half the episode saying things like, But cheating is wrong. It's wrong and I told the truth about it. I did what's right. You (Steven) told me to always tell the truth, which I did. WHY PEOPLE ANGRY???

And so Steven has to basically spell it out and be like, You got those students suspended, Alex. They are upset with you because of this. They were exposed publically, which embarrassed them, and people tend to not like being embarrassed.

And Alex is like, Oh.

• Repetitive behavior/movements: Most often seen when Alex is distressed or scared, his mannerisms definitely stand out in many scenes. He paces, taps his foot/bounces his leg, rubs his hands together or over his lap, rocks back and forth, and avoids eye contact. I made a post about this a short while back because it really is interesting (and a testament to how well the character was played). There are moments where Alex is completely confident and "calm", and you can see that reflected in the way he carries himself. But whenever he's upset or anxious, you'll start to notice a variety of the things listed above.

So. Yeah. All these things considered...I headcanon Alex as possibly being autistic?? Which is not a take I've ever seen anyone else mention (and I seriously doubt anyone working on the show had this angle in mind at all) but watching through the series, my radar just goes off when it comes to APK.

I have no idea how this will be received. (If anyone even reads it because wow, this got away from me).

Thanks for the ask. As you may be able to tell, I enjoyed being able to spew out my thoughts.

[mavda]

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 |  Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) | Ch.5(3) | Ch.5(4) | Ch.6(1) | Ch.6(2) | Ch.6(3) | Ch.7(1) | Ch.7(2) | Ch.7(3) | Ch.7(4) | Ch.7(5) |

Ch.8: Without you (1)

Hinata keeps her head pressed to Naruto, and after a while everyone starts to leave. Whispers and hushed voices are all Hinata hears before a hand comes to her shoulder.

    “Lady Hinata,” calls Lord Minato, and she knows what comes.

    “I am s-staying with my h-husband.”

    She doesn’t need to look at his face to know that there is sympathy in his eyes. And she knows she doesn’t want to see it for herself. It will make this all feel… real.

    “We need to clean his body,” he starts again. His voice measured and soft, as if he was trying to make her understand.

    And Hinata does understand. They want to keep her away from what they seem to think of as a burden, but the thought of leaving Naruto now just fills her with dread. She rises, but keeps her hands on Naruto’s body.

    “I will c-clean him u-up.”

    “My lady.”

    “W-will you leave him h-here… or will you b-bring him to our r-room?”

    She finally looks at Lord Minato, and wishes immediately after that she didn’t. Sakura looked bad, but somehow Lord Minato looks worse. His burnt marks are bigger and less healed than Sakura’s, but it’s the way his body sags, the way his eyes seem to be filled with something Hinata has never seen before. Something Hinata didn’t think she would see so soon. 

    Resignation. 

    She can’t bring herself to ask anything, she can’t bring herself to say anything either. And Lord Minato seems to catch onto that, as he closes his eyes with a sigh and gives her a smile Hinata hates. 

    He looks at his son. “We will move him to your room, my lady, I will leave him in your care, thank you very much.” He gives her a bow, steals a glance at Naruto and attempts to leave.

    Hinata grabs the sleeve of his kimono before she realizes she did it. “Wha-what happened?”

    Lord Minato has to control his expression, and Hinata knows that is not a good sign, but she has to know. Needs to know. He looks around the room, to find no one else around aside from Sai and although a little, his mask breaks. 

    And Hinata is terrified.

    “I…” his voice trembles and he can’t seem to know where to lay his eyes. “I just shut him down.” 

    Hinata can’t understand what he seems to imply, so she presses. “L-lord Gaara…”

    The name seems to strike a chord in Lord Minato, who brings his fist to his closed eyes. “I sealed him. Correctly. I had the time and his seal is comparatively easier to handle… Naruto…” he struggles with his words, drags his fist down, “we lost too much time, we tried going back to where we left you and by the time we were there we caught Naruto losing control down at the arena and the fifth tail was forming so we had to… I had to shut everything down.”

    Hinata lets her hand fall. It’s not only the words he’s saying, it’s the way his voice is tinged with a desperation she has never heard before that makes her unable to talk. 

    “He-” Minato keeps on talking, egged on by Hinata’s attitude. If he can only give her some sort of peace of mind… mend somewhat what he has done. “He will wake up,” he assures, “it’s just…” 

    Minato closes his mouth immediately, trying to control the tremble that threatens to take over him. He knows… he has known since forever that his son lives on borrowed time, that it’s a fact that he will have to bury him first -going against every natural law-, he has been adamant into searching and trying whatever he stumbles upon that can give Naruto one second more, just one second...

    He has deluded himself, too. 10 years, 12 years, 8 years. Numbers, only numbers he has seen and repeated and tried to turn up and around in search of lengthening them, make them disappear. 10 years, 8 years. Numbers he somehow took for granted. At least that amount of time. At least not next year, or the year after, or the next. Some time. 

    This was not supposed to go like this.

    He is crying, so he brings his sleeve to his face, tries his best to hide this. But it’s useless, he knows. 

She knows.

    “I have sent message to my master, Naruto’s godfather,” his voice trembles slightly and breaks more than he wishes, but he continues, because he needs some time alone. “He has been travelling around looking and searching for ways to help Naruto. I’m hoping… I’m hoping he will bring something useful this time.”

    Minato worries Hinata will keep her head down. He wants for her to keep her head down and spare him the guilt. 

    She doesn’t look at him, but stares at the floor in front of her. No tears.

    “I... understand.”

⁂⁂⁂

Hinata does not move from Naruto’s side. So it’s only through the people who visit that she knows that Lord Gaara has awoken and is fine. 

    Lord Minato has taken a look at his seal, Sakura has taken a look at his body. Aside from the obvious stress of his seal being forced open, he’s fine. He’s fine and is currently attending a meeting with Lord Minato and Shikamaru behind closed doors. 

    Temari and Kankuro find their way to her room and stand behind her as she sits there, unmoving and with Naruto’s hand clasped between hers. 

    She knows how she must look to others. Can guess what is going on through their heads, as they let silence fall all around them. If they were any other people, maybe Hinata would have let them stay there and not say anything, kept to herself. 

    But these are Lord Gaara’s siblings. So she closes her eyes, gathers her strength.

    “I am glad… Lord Gaara is all r-right.”

    Her words break a spell she didn’t know was there. The siblings move closer and sit near Naruto’s feet. They remain composed and polite and Temari brings down her head first, followed by Kankuro.

    “We have already given our thanks to Lord Minato and to Sakura. If it could make anything better we would bow our heads to every single member of the clan, but Lord Shikamaru has told us to keep things under wraps as much as possible.” Hinata can’t look at them, so she keeps her eyes glued to the floor in front of Temari’s knees. “The Sand will not forget this debt, Lady Hinata.” Temari’s voice is laced with such appreciation that Hinata can’t ignore the obvious care they share for their brother. Which is why she feels worse for even entertaining the idea of what could have happened if Lord Minato had stayed with them in Naruto's booth. 

    It didn’t happen. 

    She shouldn’t feel bad for a thought. But she can’t help the shame that fills her and she is only capable of whispering an answer. “I… understand.” 

    Her reply is soft and weak and obviously not all that honest, so Temari brings her head even lower, “We will find ourselves useful, Lady Hinata, I swear.”

    Hinata doesn’t know if it’s the way she delivered her speech with such passion or if it’s the fact that Hinata just can’t let go of the envy instilled in her heart, but she feels unworthy of these words. “T-thank you, T-temari.”

    Temari looks apologetic still, and Hinata fears she will talk again. Show her resolve in some other way Hinata can’t truly accept at this moment. But they say their thanks again, softer this time and leave after a couple of minutes of being silent. 

    Hinata is left with Naruto. His body is fine, it’s his seal again that’s causing problems. He will wake up, it is not a wish nor a dream, it’s a fact. 

    What worries them is that they just don’t know how he will feel or react after he’s woken. Lord Minato worries the seal will weaken and that they will need to tamper with it again, after being reinforced so soon. 

He also thinks the only reason the seal was able to endure this whole ordeal is because it had been reinforced just before being put to the test. 

Sai sits next to her after what seems like mere minutes, but he offers her food and beverages with an attitude that pleads for her to accept, so it must be way past dinner. 

It feels like no time has passed at all. Hinata has to force the food down. It feels like cotton being shoved inside her mouth, unsavory and with a weird texture, but she knows she must eat. She wants to be healthy. She wants for Naruto to wake up and see her and not worry about her. 

She eats every little thing on her plate, drinks every drop of liquid on her glass, and then brings her hand to Naruto’s body once again. 

Lady Mito arrives in the room with a rush of wind that Hinata ignores. It’s only when she comes closer and sits that Hinata steals a glance at the new guest. She bows to Lady Mito, straightens and follows as she moves to Naruto's other side. 

She doesn't really know how to comfort a sad grandmother. But she tries, "Lord Minato s-said he w-will wake up."

Lady Mito sits on the floor, brings her hand to brush away Naruto's bangs with a care that's impossible to ignore. 

"He w-will wake u-up."

Lady Mito looks at her with sad eyes, and Hinata realizes that her reassurance could be understood as her own wishes. Her own way of coping. 

She realizes she's been repeating those words like a mantra inside her head.

She brings her eyes to Naruto's face. Clean now, but full of burnt marks Sakura has done her best to heal but can't make disappear only with her techniques. The wounds brought by the Beast will have to heal with a mixture of old fashioned nursing and healing chakra.

Lady Mito cups her grandson's cheek and Hinata fears she may want some alone time. "D-do you need to b-be alone with h-him?"

Lady Mito raises her eyes to Hinata and then gives her a tight smile. "No, don't worry, please." She doesn't miss the way Hinata's hand tightens around Naruto's or the way her shoulders relax at her words. 

Lady Mito feels horrible. And seeing her grandson's wife so affected does nothing to alleviate her guilt. 

There is little she could have done. There is little she can do right now. But it's not the things she can do now that plague her mind, it's what could have been. 

"I'm always late when bad things happen," she whispers. 

It's an afterthought. Something she never meant to say out loud. But somehow Hinata looks at her without understanding anything and Mito feels compelled to talk. To share her story in hopes of someone finally acknowledging the wrong she has done to her own family. 

"When my daughter died I was, much like today, far away in a meeting," Sai stands from his spot near the door and walks out. Hinata doesn't notice. "I came back to a dead daughter and the Beast sealed inside my grandson."

She brings her lips together and realizes they're trembling. There will never be a time when the pain doesn't reach her when talking about the past. "I… we couldn't do much in fear of the seal breaking and hurting Naruto… killing Naruto, so we waited." 

And waited, and waited. Year after year of her asking Minato if now they could, and if not now then maybe next year. And then the next. And then...

"Naruto was 11 when the seal settled enough for it to be tampered with." Still a child who craved hugs, still a sweet boy who had trouble with the red chakra that sometimes seeped out of him. "I wanted the Beast to be sealed within me then, got Minato's approval. I told Naruto, thinking that he would agree immediately…" maybe she should have forced it to happen. "He just looked me in the eye and said ‘but it hurts, Grandma Mito, why would you want that?’"

She takes a few seconds to herself. She will not cry. This is not about her. "I just… I tried to explain to him that I could take the pain away, but he has always been quick to pick on things, and his training as Beast Tamer had already started… we thought he had to be ready… for anything. So a few days later he came to me, took my hands between his and asked me if I would die if we went through with it. I told him the truth, the fool. I should have lied. I should have…" 

Lady Mito wipes away the stray tears that have fallen and despises them. Abhors them. "’The Beast is mine’, he said, ‘and I will not pass it to anyone ever.’" 

Naruto lies there, hurt and unconscious and she sits there beside him doing nothing. Able to do nothing. Like always. 

"I begged, kneeled and prostrated myself before him, but he didn't budge. If anything, he became more stubborn… if only I could do something for him…”

Lady Mito’s voice breaks and Hinata can feel the tears falling down her face. What wouldn't she give for Naruto to be freed from this. And now, right now, when she is burdened by his absence and the pain the situation inflicts on her, with the laments of his own grandmother right in front of her, Hinata can feel frustration rising inside. 

 "You are his g-grandmother," she whispers. It’s an accusation and a justification both at once, and Hinata inhales sharply the moment she finishes what she said, realizing she’s letting her emotions get the better of her. 

It seems at first that her words weren’t heard, thank heavens, and they sit in silence. But then Lady Mito sits straighter, serious, "It's because I am his grandmother,” she whispers. And Hinata has to bite down her lower lip to keep herself from losing her composure.

Hinata remembers Naruto's hand on her face, his breath washing over her as he just told her, matter of fact, 'she's my grandma. I love her.'

So simple, and so unfair. 

He will never give the Beast to his grandmother. Hinata squeezes his hand and hopes for him to wake up soon.

She misses him.

[max-is-in-love]

A/N: hey guys, I was feeling really dysphoric today so I made this to help me a little (I'm gender-fluid btw :)... And I may or may not have put a lot of feelings in it

reader is FtM and pre top surgery , so he is dysphoric and Steve helps him, hope you enjoy.

Warnings: crying, swear, transphobia, use of deadname, anxiety , angst but happy ending

Pronouns: he/him

Word count: I'm on my phone lol sorry

(Ps: I checked the spelling of the words at least 3 times but if there is something wrong just ignore, sometimes I'm just too dumb)

"My man"

Steve Rogers X Trans!reader

Steve and you have been dating for I think it is one year now, so he knows that you're trans. He tries his best to be supportive and use your right pronouns.

Every time he sees you're feeling down he goes to the nearest grocery store and buy your favourite snacks, wich he know as his hand palm. But this time he wasnt around to comfort you when you first started feeling bad.

He left you sleeping for a meeting during the morning, but then he had to go to S.H.I.E.L.D. to do some things and he ended up coming home at late on the evening, what he wasn't planning to do.

A while after he left the apartment, you woke up and you looked at the mirror, already not liking what you see.

You spent the day in a hoodie and sweatpants, your comfort outfit because it makes you look manly, but it wasn't enough. You where still feeling dysphoric. And things just got worse when you recieved a text from a relative...

- "hey [deadname]! How you're doing sis? I was thinking if we could go shopping some day, you know, and do a girl's night".

"I told her at least... 5....times...." - you think out loud, shaking angrily and feeling a tear go down on your cheek.

Meanwhile, Steve is unlocking the door with a smile, because he will finally see you for the first time today.

"Y/N, I'm home baby" - he shouts from the door, smiling even more.

He goes around the house, trying to find you, just to see you sobbing out loud in your bed.

Your back so curled up trying to , at least for one seccond, hide the things you don't want to have in your body. You already can't breath correctly because of the panick attack you're having but you're also wearing your binder , what just make it worse.

When he get the chance to realize what is happening, he goes directly to you and sits by your side.

" y/n, Y/n look at me, please?"

You look up, seeing his shining blue eyes glaring at yours in worry and he pulls you into his arms.

He is full of worry, he didn't saw you crying so hard ever in his life and he never wants to see that again. You're everything to him , you're his home, his comfort and it breaks his heart when he sees you crying.

" hey... Hey, it's okay... " - you sob even harder- "breathe y/n, breathe"

A couple of minutes goes by and he can finally calm you down...

His hands are now cupping your face, and he stop to look into your eyes, a tear still falling from it.

" you want to talk about that?" - he ask, even though he knows your answer.

" it's just... " - you start - "no matter how much I talk , and explain, and cry... People still see me as a girl... And I hate it Steve... I hate it..... I hate this body, I would never be a man in it.... All in me is disgusting..."

His heart breaks hearing you say such things about yourself.

"no baby... This is not true..." - his sweet voice come to your ears once again - " you're a man, my man. And nothing could change that, okay? Nothing"

You hug him once more, burrying your head on his chest.

" you are so fucking handsome , y/n. Whoever missgendered you on purpose just can't comprehend how especial you are, and it's not your fault that they are so unhappy with their own life, that they have the need to put you down"

"maybe you're right" - you sigh.

" I love you sweetheart , so much... "

He leans down and kisses you, passionately and calm, in the way just Steve Rogers could ever do.

Both of you lie down at the bed and there, being hold by your boyfriend , is when you finally realizes you're safe with him and that he will love you no matter who and what you are.

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

A/N : and for all of you that struggle with dysphoria too, just know that you're valid and what you have between your legs does not define your gender. Love you guys and hope you've liked it :)

[jungkookiebus]

Dungeons and Dick | jjk

Genre: nonidol!au, boyfriend!jjk, smut, fluff, crack? Pairing: jungkook x reader Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: dirty talk, face fucking, semi-exhibitionism, pussy slapping, ass slapping, rough sex, unprotected sex Summary: Your DnD group meets weekly and this time your DM, who also happens to be your boyfriend, plans on killing one of your party members until you thwart his plan leaving him pissed off and embarrassed. But Jungkook is not so secret about how much it turns him on when all the others have left.  Author’s Note: look, I like DnD and I wanted to write about Jungkook’s nerdy ass so sue me. ;) also this might be a hot mess. 

You had never seen anything more awful in your entire life, not even in your nightmares. The creature that loomed before you was larger than anything you had encountered before. Your party stood next to you, weapons ready, as you all prepared to face the creature head on. Standing in the underwater cave you had just swam to, almost losing Mando in the process, you were all hoping for a short rest when the creature appeared out of the shadows. Its brown outer shell was covered in algae, seaweed, and barnacles. Its eyes glowed red in the semi darkness and it roared as the tentacles on its chin lashed out at you. You quickly dodged out of the way of one of its swiping pincers and landed right on your feet. Next to you, Tan, pulled out his crossbow and docked it. You watched as he stepped back on his left foot, squinted to line up his shot, and fired. The arrow went neatly into one of the creature’s eyes and its roars echoed in the cave. Just as fast, Tan dropped the crossbow and shifted all his weight to his right foot as he yelled out, energy almost like lightning crackled from his fingers as three beams shot towards the creature. Its screams bounced off the walls and the noise was almost too much as you flinched, covering your ears. Your weapon clattered to the stone floor as you dropped to your knees.

“Lyran!” you heard yelled from across the cavern. Your cleric, Tezu, was maybe fifty feet away from you, halberd in hand as he watched you helplessly.

The creature lunged towards you, pincer open and headed straight where you were kneeling. A clash of metal against the floor, and the sharp light of sparks came into your vision as Tezu dashed across the cavern, halberd hitting the hard stone. Moments before the pincer closed around you, he slid in front of you, on his knees, halberd horizontal to the ground as he thrust it outwards, piercing into the hard shell of the creature. It roared in anger and pain as he jerked the halberd back towards him, pulling it from its grip.

Looking to the side you saw Mando calmly walk closer to the creature, arms outstretched, and you yelled at him to come back, but he didn’t seem to be listening. Saliva dripped from its mouth as it stalked closer to him, knowing it had its prey where it wanted it. But then, as if in moment of revelation, the creature stopped short. It lowered its pincers, tentacles falling limp as it stared dumbly at Mando. Mando’s eyes sparkled as he smiled. Lowering his arms, he looked at the creature for a bit longer before he said, “Go home.”

The creature didn’t even seem to ponder the demand as it slipped into the waters you swam out of and back into the depths. Next to you, Tezu sat back on the ground, winded and tired.

“Good one, Mando,” Tan said while picking his crossbow back up off the ground.

Mando was all smiles as he turned around, jutting his arm up into the air.

“Are you kidding me?!” Jungkook yelled.

“Hey, Dominate Monster is a good spell, man. I knew it’d come in handy when I leveled up.”

Jimin was grinning from ear to ear across the table as Jungkook glared at him from over the DM screen. Jimin had railroaded his efforts into making your party struggle to get to the ancient item.

You sat with your eyes closed listening to the sounds around you. Next to you, Taehyung sat clicking a pen, across the table Hoseok was sifting through some papers, and to your right at the head of the table, Jungkook sat tapping his foot as he shuffled his notes, figuring out what to do next. You heard the telltale sound of plastic against hardwood as someone dropped the contents of their dice bag.

“Shit,” you heard Hoseok mutter under his breath.

The smell of jalapenos from the nachos you just devoured reached your nose as you scratched your face. Beside you, Taehyung started to click the pen faster as he got more antsy. Blindly, you reached out and placed your hand over his. You felt him relax and drop the pen before sitting back in his chair.

“Well,” Jungkook huffed, “what do you guys do next?”

“What else is in this cavern?” Taehyung asked from beside you.

“There’s two doors. One has the carving of a fist on it with two swords behind it and a dragon encircling it.”

You heard Hoseok furiously taking notes and grinned to yourself. You never tried to really remember anything from this campaign. You were chaotic alignment after all.

“The other door has a raven carved onto it and it’s perched on a skull that seems to be balanced on a stack of books.”

“Can I do an arcana check to see if there’s any spells on the door?” Hoseok asked as he grabbed his character sheet.

“Sure,” Jungkook agreed.

Hoseok picked through his dice before grabbing the one he needed, rolling it in his hand, and let it fall to the table.

“That’s a 15 with a plus 2, so 17 arcana check, do I sense anything?”

“Soooo, the door with the fist seems like it has no magic on it, but the raven door is just oozing with magic. Like, it feels like maybe the spell on this door was just recently…I don’t know…renewed or something.”

“Hey guys!” Hoseok perked up as if you hadn’t heard anything Jungkook just said, “This raven door is just riddled with magic.”

“Alright, let’s open it. I walk up and attempt to open the door,” you said as you readied a dice in your hand.

“Wait!” Jimin yelled. “I attempt to stop her before she reaches it.”

“Too late,” Jungkook said, “give me a Constitution saving throw.”

You dropped the dice from your hand and looked at the number, already having memorized your character sheet.

“23.”

“Your arm kinda feels funny for a second, but nothing happens but the door doesn’t open.”

“Okay, warlock man, can you help us out?” you said, turning towards Taehyung.

Taehyung thought for a moment as he tapped his pursed lips, brows furrowed in concentration as he blankly stared at the table.

“What if…,” he started, “neither one of these doors are real?”

“Didn’t the tome say something about three paths?” Hoseok asked, perking up.

“Do you still have True Seeing?” you asked, leaning over and peering down at his sheet. “You do! Use it on me!”

“Okay, I wanna cast True Seeing on _____ and see if she sees anything.”

“What do I see?” you asked turning to Jungkook.

“You do see a third door to the right of the raven door. That door has something that looks like a crown made of flames in front of a castle.”

“A castle we know?”

“No.”

“Can I try to open it?” you asked.

“You can do whatever you want, babe.”

“No babe at the table, Jungkook, you’re the DM and I’m Lyran, your chaotic dwarf bard.”

He rolled his eyes and looked down at his notes.

“I’m gonna open it.”

“As soon as you open the door, there’s a ripple of dark magic and an Efreeti comes out of the door annnddddd I’m going to need all of you to roll for initiative.”

There was a collective groan as everyone gathered themselves for yet another encounter.

As the fight wore on you could tell that Jungkook was trying to kill a party member. The Efreeti was getting every save throw and everyone had taken fire damage at one point. You waited nervously, trying to keep your hit points up enough to pull out the spell Jungkook didn’t know you had. Last time, the party had leveled up and you spent that night restructuring your character.

When it got to your turn, Jungkook turned to look at you with such a cheeky grin that you were almost sad to be the one that would wipe it off. The pure satisfaction you would feel when you killed his elemental would be sweet. You had been adding up the damage everyone was dealing and if your calculations and guess were correct, the creature was probably under 100 hit points.

“Okay,” you breathed as if you weren’t sure what to do. You wanted Jungkook to believe he had won this round. “How far away is he from me?”

“About 70 feet.”

“Perfect. I’m going to move 10 feet and cast Power Word Kill and the word of power I use is…boji*.”

Hoseok’s peals of laughter made Taehyung jump in his seat as he too devolved into a fit of giggles. Jimin slid off his chair as he pointed at Jungkook who blanched.

“If I’m guessing correctly, your Efreeti is under 100 hit points, yes?”

All Jungkook could do was stare, open mouthed, and totally betrayed.

“Your creature’s dead.”

Hoseok screamed with laughter again as he clung to Jungkook’s arm. His attempt to placate a shocked Jungkook wasn’t working through his tears so he gave up and collapsed to the floor. Taehyung pulled you into a side hug so hard you had to push him away.

“We’re done for the night,” Jungkook said while standing and shuffling his papers into a stack before laying the screen down over them.

“Oh, come on!” Hoseok said from the floor.

“You were trying to kill us!” Jimin cried.

“I don’t think he was expecting us all to make it out alive,” Taehyung muttered as you watched Hoseok pull Jimin up from the floor.

“Don’t be mad!” Taehyung half pleaded from his seat. He could not care less how Jungkook felt about you killing his creature. He was already stuffing his keys into his pocket as he dropped his Player’s Handbook and dice bag into his backpack. “I’ve got class in the morning, so I’ll see you guys next week. Jungkook just shoot me a text with the XP I got, or I’ll kill you.” He bent over, placing a kiss to your cheek before waving to everyone else and heading out.

Hoseok and Jimin followed behind soon after. They both lived together a couple of blocks down from your building.

Jungkook was still moping around your apartment as you cleaned the crumbs and extra paper off the table.

“Are you really that mad?” you asked after he hadn’t said a word for quite a few minutes.

“You’re always just railroading me.”

“That’s the point.”

“But every time?!”

“You’re being very childish over a game, JK.”

He turned to you, turning his heated gaze on you as he stalked across the room. He came towards you swiftly with no signs of stopping and you subconsciously backed up until you heard the strange, hollow thunk of your back hitting the picture window. He stood, towering over you as you looked up at him. He looked heated and almost ready to argue until you saw his pupils blow. Reaching behind you, he pulled you by the ass towards him before lifting you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he practically slammed you into the glass again; the window shaking just a little and causing your muscles to tense even though you knew it’d take greater pressure to break. His lips were on yours swiftly as he used his body weight to keep you trapped against the window as his hands wandered up your waist underneath your shirt. He pressed himself into you as your legs tightened around his waist, fingers tangled in the hair at his nape as he kissed you harder. He reached behind him, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them to the window above you as he continued to kiss you and drag your bottom lip between his teeth.

“You’re so hot when you know what you’re doing,” he whispered as he began to pepper kisses down your throat.

“What? At DnD?” you moaned as your head bumped against the window.

“Yea, even if you do fuck with me.”

You grinned as his teeth grazed the skin of your collarbone, both hands still firmly held above your head.

“Baby, I created that character to fuck with you.”

He practically growled as he ground himself against you. His cock was already rock hard under the rough denim fabric of his jeans. Whimpers escaped your lips as he harshly pushed against the thin fabric of your leggings. His teeth bit into soft skin of your shoulder and his grip on your wrists was bruising as he circled his hips, creating friction against your clit. His breathing was thick and heavy as he tortured himself further. Still keeping you aloft with sheer core strength alone, his other hand was up under your sweater. You gasped as his cold fingertips danced along the underside of your breast; nipples immediately hardening before he even touched them.  He cupped and squeezed your breast desperately under the softness of your sweater, causing varying heightened sensations inside of you.

“Just wait until I put you in your place, baby.”

He ground himself even harder against you, knowing you were soaking every bit of fabric between you, desperate for more and willing to do whatever it took. Your hot skin squeaked along the window as your sweater rose with Jungkook’s hand. Without warning, he shifted his weight backwards and your legs slipped down to the floor, thankfully catching yourself before you landed on your ass. His grip on your hands never loosened, however.

He dipped down, face so close that your noses were almost touching as he looked you in the eyes. His flitted back and forth between yours as he seemed to be searching for something. He ran his pointer finger over your lips and your body involuntarily flushed with goosebumps. Bending the tip of his finger, he pulled your lip downward before letting it pop back.

“Can I fuck this pretty mouth of yours?”

Your mouth salivated instantly. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He let go of your hands and stood back from you while he started to undo the button on his pants.

You rubbed your sore wrists as you watched him.

“Right here?” you asked quizzically. You turned to look out of the window, very much on display for the rest of the world to see.

“Right here, baby,” he said while stepping out of his jeans. His cock was hard and outlined in his black boxer briefs, but it was when he turned to the side that you saw how hard he was, and you didn’t think twice as you dropped to your knees.

He raised an eyebrow as he turned back to you, a little surprised at your sudden submission. Reaching upwards, you hooked your hands in the band and pulled them down past his thighs. His cock bounced in front of you, red and leaking already. You licked your lips expectantly as you positioned yourself better on your knees, back still to the window. Jungkook’s gaze never wavered from you, nonplussed as he was to be bare in front of the window. Knowing he’d want control you placed both hands on his thighs as you let your mouth drop open, tongue waiting for its prize. He smiled that lopsided smile you always found endearing, but now it took on another personality as he grabbed both sides of your head, guiding your mouth to his cock. Slowly, it laid heavy on your tongue as he slid it in. He moaned as soon as you wrapped your lips around him and relaxed your throat. He hissed as he hit the back of it, causing you to tighten slightly, and waiting a beat before pulling out slowly. His fingers tightened in your hair as he gently thrust into your mouth again, building you up to where he wanted you. You looked upwards as his eyes met yours; his were black as night as his pupils blew even wider while his cock slid easily in and out of your mouth. Minutely, you dug your fingertips into his thighs a little more, signaling that he was okay to do whatever he wanted. Taking a deep breath through your nose you prepared for what was going to come next. He pulled out until the head was about to pop from your lips, eyes never leaving yours before he slammed back into your throat harshly causing you to choke around him.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he held himself there, head thrown back, and his hands tight in your hair.

His thigh muscles tensed under your hands as he thrust with more purpose. His thumbs slipped down your cheeks to the corners of your mouth. Jungkook loved using you this way and the evidence of it across his thumbs as drool slipped from the corners of your mouth, turned him on even more as he swiped the sticky wetness across the apples of your cheeks. Tears slipped from your eyes the more he restricted your breathing and soon your cheeks were soaked. His fingers slid back into your hair, wetting some of it as it stuck to your skin. He pulled your head onto him as he thrust forward. You were soon unable to hold back the choking noises as he fucked your mouth harder and harder, drool slipping down past your chin, sliding down your neck, and wetting the neck of your sweater.

With a gasp from him and an inhale of breath from you, he pulled completely from your mouth and stumbled backwards a few steps, chest heaving with the effort. He grabbed you by the wrist, pulled you up from the floor, and had your body flush with his as he reached around, fingers digging into the seam of your leggings, and pulled. The sound of fabric ripping filled the room as he ripped the ass of your leggings, exposing you to the cold air and window behind you, revealing your lack of panties. You barely had time to catch your breath before he had you bent over the arm of the couch, face buried into the cushions and throw pillows. His hand came down hard on one of your ass cheeks and the sting caused you to cry out as he rubbed a soothing hand over the spot. Not a second later, he landed a slap on the other, letting it sting for a few before he was soothing you once more. Your skin flushed with each connection, the sting sending chills of pleasures to the rest of your body. You shuddered helplessly on the couch as Jungkook landed slap after slap on your ass until you were sure they were just as red as his cock.

“You’re gonna ruin the couch,” he said as he dipped his hand between your legs. You had been absolutely dripping from the beginning and now you could feel it as fresh waves of arousal washed over you.

“Please,” you murmured; cheek pressed against the cushion. You wiggled your ass in an attempt to entice him, but it just landed you another slap that burned deliciously as your skin swelled.

He grabbed handful of your ass cheeks, spreading them to look at your dripping pussy.

“So pretty, baby.”

He rubbed his cock in between them, slowly and tortuously now.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

You whined as your fingers bit into the soft fabric, feeling the lines of thread as your fingernails caught in them.

He pushed in just as slowly as he did with your mouth and you couldn’t help the guttural moan that left your throat as he filled you up completely. You felt his hips stutter ever so slightly as your warmth enveloped him. His fingers bit into your waist as his other hand balled your sweater into his fist, creating leverage as he began to fuck you harder and harder. Your hips dug into the arm of the couch painfully as his snapped into you. Your sweater pulled tighter and tighter against your upper body the more he pulled, using every inch of you to fuck himself.

It seemed a moment too soon, when minutes later he pulled out and landed a slap directly against your pussy.

“Shit,” you gasped as you lifted your head, hands grappling with the fabric beneath you as you tried to find purchase and ground yourself to the here and now.

Jungkook had your head spinning anew as he slapped you even harder this time.

“Switch,” he said simply as he pulled you up from the couch.

Your entire body protested as you stiffly stood from the position you had been bent into for so long, but he didn’t care as he sat on the couch, legs spread, and waiting. He braced his hands on your waist as you slung your leg over his and positioned yourself over his cock. He pulled you down, hard, onto him and you cried out as you braced yourself on his shoulders.

“Ride me,” he said through gritted teeth. He was practically shaking as he held onto your waist still.

You rolled your hips the way you knew he liked it and you watched as his eyes rolled back and his head hit the back of the couch, hair fluffing out to the sides as it softly framed his head. Holding onto him tighter, you used him as you lifted yourself now and again, sitting back down hard, before grinding your hips in a way that had you rubbing your clit against his pelvis. Soon, head lifted and through hooded eyes he watched as your body undulated above him, torso still wrapped in soft pink cashmere, hair spilling past your shoulders, and eyes shut in bliss. He pushed your sweater up and over your breasts as he wrapped one arm around your back, bringing you closer, and pulled your nipple into his mouth. He hummed against your skin and you felt yourself gush around his cock as he bit and sucked softly. You felt more than saw him plant his feet firmly on the floor as he took over thrusting into you faster than you were riding him. The force of his thrusts had you bouncing down hard on his cock and you felt the familiar pressure build as your vision clouded with pure pleasure. Heat built inside of you until it felt like a consuming fire.

“That’s it, baby. Come all over me with that pretty pussy. You’re so beautiful, baby,” he muttered breathlessly as your whines became more pitched.

Your body tensed as your breath caught in your throat, coming hard, hands gripping his shoulders, as your mouth fell open, but no sound escaped. Exhaling and then breathing in just as fast, a small scream escaped your lips as he continued fucking you through the orgasm and sending you into yet another intense one before you had time to breathe.

He pulled you up off his cock just enough to reach around and grip himself firmly in his fist, jacking himself off fast and hard as the head of his cock still nudged closely to your entrance. You wrapped your arms around his neck, knees planted firmly into the couch as you brought your lips to his and captured them in a kiss. His thighs began to shake beneath you as you rotated your hips over the head of his cock, his hand working over himself furiously until you felt him come. Hot strings of cum landed against your pussy and dripped down back over himself as he slowed his hand, body jerking every once in a while, with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Collapsing against him, you were both breathing hard as you came down from your highs.

“Remind me,” you said breathing heavily, “to kill your characters more often.”

*boji or 보지 is the Korean word for cunt, muff, or pussy.

[englass]

Hello ❤ hope you have a nice day 💖 can i request #14 from the dark prompts please?

Heya hun!!! Honestly, the day has been hot, but we push on. I hope your day has been good!! 💖 Hope you don't mind, but I went for a Fantasy AU for this one; I was super struggling with the prompt and the only thing I could think of was, "oooh, John as a mage..." so we kinda get that. The whole thing is more set up then anything else, but I didn't want to delete anything...

14. “You’re too sweet, darling. What type of monster would I be without you?”

- - -

There had been tales, whispers amongst the women and men of people going missing; of them being snatched off darkened paths and empty roads. Some reckoned it was a beast, spoke of a monster that was stealing people away to fuel their wicked appetite. Others thought it to be bandits, or other unscrupulous groups looking to profit off of the lives of inconspicuous civilians. But there were a handful, the few like yourself, that felt the shift in the air; that could feel the remnants of something foul and forbidden coiled around the scenes.

It had worried you greatly, the thought of such dark magic set loose in the town you had made a home of. Often you found yourself lost in your own mounting anxieties as the reports grew more and more frequent, and rumours gradianted into a much dreaded possibility. Even though you were no stranger to the darker arts, proficient as you are in the art of Summoning, you had never delved too far into its catalogue. In fact, Summoning was about all you ever touched and even then, amongst some other magically inclined individuals, it was considered somewhat of a lesser art; not as destructive and therefore not as notable as others.

However, just because you never strayed into more questionable arts doesn’t mean you know not of them. You’re aware that there are some dark arts that are a bit more accepted amongst the magically inclined than others, used for educational purposes and approved of as a means to protect oneself. Really dark arts are just offensive abilities, so no matter what there is always an element of wariness when it comes to the potential of such arts. As long as you utilise them in an acceptable manner there will be no questioning, no inquiries into your character.

For those not accepted though it is typically because they cross some form of moral or ethical line, taking an individual down a path that alters them irremediably. Stains the core of their aura with the makings of something dreadful, corrupts them until they lose all that makes them as they are.

Admittedly, if not studied correctly or the thirst for knowledge becomes too consuming, then any art can destroy a person; can set them down that very smart path. And sometimes a person can destroy the values of the art and stretch it into something it is not designed to be. There are many stories of Healers’ playing Maker, of a Conjurers’ calling going terribly wrong, of Astrologians’ going insane from their divinations. Once you were almost entranced by your own Summon; a rookie mistake, terribly embarrassing to recall.

Magic in general is a dangerous art and care will always need to be taken. But there are some arts where that danger is part of the art, and those are forbidden. They will always cross the line, and they will never fail to destroy a person; and that person will never fail to destroy others.

That’s what scared you so much about the recent happenings of the town. To think that such a person was lurching about the place, taking people off the street for who knows what nefarious reasons, terrified you. The idea that you could be next, that the stability of your own aura could be at risk because of this rogue caster sickened you. It tore you apart.

And John saw that.

It was a relatively small town, filled with all types of people coming in and out from across the region and the different towns within it. For a long time though the only people you knew that did magic was a spirited Pyromancer called Sharky and some eccentric Apothecary who lived on the outskirts called Larry (you were convinced the man tested his own potions on himself). The first you met when you had summoned a Kelpie to help you put out a fire he had accidentally caused a bit too close to your home, while the latter you had met by chance while looking for ingredients.

That had changed once the Seed brothers had moved in close to the town. They were surprisingly open about their magical inclinations and while the town wasn’t outrightly hostile they were openly suspicious of the three. You had even been a little suspicious of the three, not understanding their reasons for being so forward to a none magically inclined town; it could be dangerous to do so. Ultimately though they suffered little consequence of their reveal, other than strange looks and quiet gossip made of them. You had been envious of that freedom, to be forthright about what you were, but thought better of it. To reveal such a truth after so long would spell disaster for you.

Not even a full lunar cycle had passed before Joseph, the middle brother of the three, had made a point to come seek you out, introducing himself and his brothers to you. It had been a wholly uncomfortable encounter, especially the instance where he had suddenly questioned what arts you had studied. Desperately you had tried to deny it but thankfully the oldest brother, Jacob, had merely sighed and apologised on Joseph’s behalf. As an ex-Paladin turned Enchanter he had fully understood your need for secrecy and had been your saving grace during the whole thing. From then on the brothers become quick acquaintances to you, whether you wanted them to be or not.

Joseph was… okay. He made for interesting conversation no doubt and oftentimes his words gave you pause to think on things, but he could be a touch preachy at times, especially about his beliefs and divinations. Jacob on the other hand had become a confidante of sorts. You didn’t often talk, but when you did the conversation held well enough and his advice was always sound. He was also honest about his thoughts and opinions on a matter, and while you didn’t like being called out when you messed up you did respect his outlook. Your relationship with the youngest brother, John, however was a special one.

It had taken him a few days after the initial introduction to strike up a conversation with you, and for the most part he had purely asked you about yourself. But somewhere between admitting how long you’ve lived here and him nervously revealing himself to be a Conjurer, you had developed a fast trust of the man. It was unexplainable, completely foolish of you, but there was just something about him that you thought was pleasant; a believability to him. He was the first you deliberately told about your darker studies and thankfully, being of similar arts, he had taken it exceedingly well. You had even bonded over the differences and similarities between your chosen studies. He had become a dear friend, and only became dearer as the years went by.

So John noticing when your worries began to eat at you didn’t surprise you. He knew you extraordinarily well, sometimes it was even a little spooky how well he knew you, but it was also an odd comfort. He knew just what to say to put you at ease, to assure you that you would be safe and even going so far as promising that he himself would protect you from such a fate as those missing. You still had doubts, but his care was touching.

If only you had learned the truth sooner.

“My friend, please,” you cry, wrists shackled uncomfortably above you, the metal cutting into your skin, “I beg of thee, stop this! Such practises are a blight to the soul, you will doom yourself if you continue. I know not what it is you wish to accomplish, but please spare them this torture! Spare yourself! Surely there has to be another way, John; surely!”

John merely chuckles quietly, slowly shaking his head as he does so. “Oh, you’re too sweet, darling. Even now, as you are, you still think of me and my well being before yourself. Not to imply you have anything to fear, of course; you know I would never hurt you. I merely mean it as an observation. It is a charming trait, that sweetness of yours. It’s part of why I fell for you so.” He turns to you then, up to his elbows covered in blood. The person before him is still alive, but barely, their breaths shallow and their skin a deathly pallor. To think he was a Hemomancer this whole time…

“But why waste words on their behalf when they would never deign to do the same for you? You had to hide yourself, deny what you truly are just to be accepted by these lowly worms for years. Tell me, where is the fairness in that? In what world should we sequest ourselves away from those weaker than us, those deemed less worthy by the Maker themselves?”

Crossing the space in a few long strides he stops before you, bloody hands cupping your cheeks gently even as you try to turn away from him, bringing you back to stare helplessly into his sparkling eyes, “Don’t you see, sweet one? You are beautiful, in every part, as you are. We were blessed by the Maker, but they will never see that, blinded as they are. They will never appreciate our arts, our gifts, or even us as people, no matter what we may do or sacrifice for them. If I need to subject myself to risk to show them their place, to create a world that you need not hide in any longer, then I’ll do so gladly and without hesitation.”

Shaking your head softly, face still captured within his hands, a tear slips unbidden down your cheek. “But it will consume you. You’ll become a monster.”

“Maybe,” he admits, tone oddly calm as he carefully brushes beneath your eye with his thumb, smearing blood through the track of your tear, “but I wonder, what type of monster would I be without you, do you think?”

Perhaps it is vain of you, but something tells you that he would be another beast entirely without you chained to him as you now are…

[blue-bird-on-a-wire]

Mav (Free)

Part 3 of the Gar Cuyir Yaim series

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,340

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x (Y/n) with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Jabba’s slave culture, mentioned kidnapping/child kidnapping, insecure (Y/n), hinted/implied abuse of (Y/n)

Summary: (Y/n) represses memories from her past after Paz explains how he knows her.

Updates: Every Tuesday at 5:30 pm MT

A/N: Hello! You can also find this fic on Ao3 under B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire. Please feel free to give me feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. If you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me! I don’t bite 😊. Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist

“What?” I asked, not sure I heard Paz correctly.

You were a foundling.

I was not a foundling. Foundlings were the adoptive children of the Mandalorians, raised to be strong warriors. I was not strong nor a warrior, let alone raised by Paz’s kind. He must have been mistranslating.

Paz continued to stare at me like he was frozen in carbonite.

“That can’t be right. I’ve never met a Mandalorian before you,” I whispered.

He just kept looking at me, and it started to make my skin crawl. Was he mad at me? Was he considering taking me back? What did this all mean for him? I wasn’t a foundling and never had been. He needed to look again.

“...That’s why I recognized you,” Paz muttered, more to himself than to me. “You disappeared after the Shereshir be Ade.”

“...the...the what?”

Paz quickly stood up, taking a step toward me. “The Kidnapping of Children,” he said, as though that would explain everything. “I never thought I would see you again.”

I took a hesitant step back. He was mistaken. If he took a look at the holo again, he would see I wasn’t a foundling. I never was.

I couldn't bring myself to believe I could have been one of him. The Mandalorians were just stories to me until a few days ago.

“I-I... I don’t know who you are, Paz,” I said. “I-I’m sorry.”

Paz’s steps abruptly stopped. His shoulders tensed and I could hear his breath hitch through the modulator.

“I’ve belonged to Jabba for as long as I can remember,” I continued. “I don’t even know what planet I was born on, or who brought me to him.”

A pause. This silence from him was making me more and more nervous.

“...I’ve only heard of Mandalorians through stories from bounty hunters. You must be mistaking me for someone else, and I’m so sorry I mislead you-”

“We were playing in the covert. You wanted to play some hiding game, and I was looking for you… You couldn't stop laughing,” Paz’s shoulders deflated. “Then there was a loud boom - an explosion - and we were running through the tunnels. But you were so small. I didn’t-” Paz’s helmet tilted to the side, away from me. “I hadn't even noticed how far behind you were-”

“Y-you’re think- thinking of someone else. I-I wasn’t-” I could feel the tears building behind my eyes.

This was freaking me out. He said he knew me? Or at least he thought he knew me. I didn’t know anyone. I had grown up alone - raised by other slaves and taught two things. There are the rulers and the ruled. You are determined for either destiny and are good for nothing else.

This was turning my whole galaxy around.

“Our covert was attacked and in the aftermath, we couldn't find several of our children,” Paz explained, looking back at me and taking another step forward. “I couldn't find you.”

My breathing was shallow as I struggled to keep from crying. This couldn't have been happening. I wasn’t who he said I was. There wasn’t any other path I could have lived. My slavery was inevitable. I wasn’t once the very thing I had longed to be since I was younger. I hadn't… I couldn't of-

“(Y/n),” said Paz. “Ni ceta.”

“I-I don’t know wha- what that means,” I whimpered. “I-I’m just- just a slave. You-you’re thinking of- of the wrong per-person,” I choked out. “But I-I can’t eve-even read to show you it-it’s no-not true,” I gestured to my collar.

I wasn’t. I wasn’t. I wasn’t.

I didn’t know this man. He was wrong about me. He thought I was someone I wasn’t. Someone he mistook for a childhood friend.

Everything was crashing down around me because I do remember feeling cold. I remember feeling afraid, and lost, and alone. I could never picture any of it but I always remembered how it felt. It felt abandoned.

Being forced to leave wherever I came from, only to be thrown into the grubby hands of Jabba felt… like I had been ripped from whatever home had come before.

But I couldn't remember, and my experience must have been different from whoever this Mandalorian was talking about. No matter how similar it might have been.

Paz reached behind him for the collar with its holo still displaying. He thrust it toward me, pointing at things with his gloved fingers.

“Right here,” Paz explained, “It says you were gifted, not bought. You were proof of eradication of a Mandalorian covert. That’s why you were given to Jabba. You were the false proof of a job well done.”

I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks, or the whimpers that left my mouth. I couldn't remember these things. He wanted me to remember, and I couldn't do that.

“... I-I can’t read, Paz…”

I must have looked even more pathetic to him if he thought I was once a foundling. Balling my eyes out like I wasn’t in the presence of a Mandalorian.

My back finally hit the wall behind me, and I hadn't realized till that moment just how far I had moved away from him.

“I-I’m sorry that I-I’m not who- who you think I am…”

Paz remained silent.

“I’m sor-sorry you have the wrong per-person.”

He continued to stare at me. I could see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

He was going to hit me soon, I was sure of it.

But he never did.

Maybe I was supposed to play along. Maybe he wanted me to pretend to be this other person because I looked vaguely like them.

All of a sudden, Paz lurched forward and stormed up the ladder to the cockpit.

I held my breath at the sound of his boots, only taking in air once I heard the door to the cockpit close.

I was left alone, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company.

Nothing but my thoughts to drown in.

~ ~ ~

The more I dwelled on it, the more I felt these vague images and feelings bubbling to the surface.

I remember bars.

And it was dark.

I remember being yelled at. Being told to quiet down and stop squirming.

But I don’t recall any faces. Just noise and feelings.

There had been a smell of something metallic.

I didn’t want to think about these things. I didn’t like to acknowledge these things. They implied that somewhere in my lifetime I had not been a slave. That I was taken or abducted from somewhere. I did not like to think that if something had changed - maybe I ate something else that morning or slept in a little later - then I might not have ever been a slave.

False memories. That’s what I decided to chalk these things up to, even though these things had existed in the back of my mind long before Paz entered Jabba’s Palace.

Yes, false memories was all that they were. I had simply made them up.

But I was not dreaming. My neck still throbbed with pain, even as the bacta gel absorbed into my skin. It had been a few hours, I assumed. Maybe the pain would go away in a few more.

I lifted my head from my arms, which rested on my folded-up knees.

Corners were nice. I liked corners. They made me feel secure and safe. All I had to worry about was what was in front of me, not behind.

Jabba’s Palace was sort of like a corner. I knew what to expect. I knew what to look out for.

Paz was like sitting in the middle of an open room with doors on every wall… Maybe the room was even a circle, and the doors were identical just to make it more confusing. I felt like being here with Paz was so full of uncertainty. Any door might open at any second, and who knew what would lie behind it.

Maybe a Rancor. Maybe a Jawa.

Or maybe it would be stars.

Having raised my head, I took a puffy-eyed glance around the hull. The first thing that caught my attention was the round window from before.

I had never seen anything so breathtaking. What was this? Why were there streaks of light - blues and whites - flying past us.

I couldn't help myself.

Rising up on sore muscles and blistered feet, I shuffled my way to the window’s ledge. I lifted a hand and placed a few fingers on the lip, the cool glass feeling nice on my warm skin.

It was truly mesmerizing. Was this space? Was that truly what the galaxy looked like? Just a blur of little stars and planets, flying by so fast they looked like thin threads.

I would make something keen to a blanket from those threads. It would be blue, white, and black. It would look just as beautiful as the scenery beyond the glass. I would sleep under it - under thousands of stars. No one would touch me under my little blanket. I would be too lost in the galaxy for them to find me anyhow.

“Clothes.”

I jumped, spun on my feet and pulled my hands to my chest.

Paz stood at the bottom of the ladder. I hadn't even heard him come down.

He held a bundle of clothes in one hand, and in the other was my collar which no longer displayed the holo.

“You’ll get cold in what you’re wearing, so I thought you might like to change,” Paz said.

He had brought me clothes? From the looks of it, they were big and made from thick looking wool. They must have been his.

Of course! This whole time he had been dressed from head to toe in armor, while I was still clad in that skimpy dancer’s outfit. I must have been making him uncomfortable.

“... Um. I can set them in the ‘fresher for you.”

Oh. I should say something. “That’s ok,” I said, taking a few steps toward him. “You don’t have to do that.”

My eyes must have been puffy. I wanted to rub at them.

Paz handed me the clothes.

“Thank you,” I said. I took one last glance at him before I started walking away. I tried my best not to let on to my hurt feet. I had already been given more care from him than I ever had from anyone else before. I didn’t want to bother him.

Stepping into the refresher, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I had good hygiene habits and was always keeping myself clean - I had just never used a shower with water before. Sonic showers were all that was allowed at Jabba’s. Tatooine was a planet with so little water it had to be carefully extracted from the air. Water showers were considered wasteful luxuries very few could afford.

Should I ask Paz how this worked? Maybe not, he must have been busy. I could just skip the shower all together, but I would still be covered in a layer of sweat and sand. Then again, what if I started to fiddle with something and ended up breaking his nice shower? That didn’t sound too great either. Hmm…

Welp… I suppose the worst that could happen was a bruised cheek and unanswered question.

Clutching his clothes tightly to my chest, I turned around and poked my head out from the doorway.

Sitting on a crate on the other end of the hull was the big blue Mandalorian. He was fiddling with my collar, taking it apart and organizing the parts.

I wondered what that red blinking thing was.

“Paz?” I called, my voice feeling small and unsure.

His head shot up and he immediately stopped what he was doing. “Yes, Sarad?”

I would ask what that meant another time.

“Um, I-I don’t know how to use your shower,” I weakly admitted.

Paz stood up and slowly walked over to me.

I flinched as he passed, not having expected him to actually enter the small room. He must not have thought my question was that dumb after all.

Paz gestured to a few knobs and switches on the wall.

“This one,” he pointed. “Turns the water on while this other one controls the temperature.”

“Temperature?” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Paz turned his head to look at me. “The hot water doesn't last very long though, but I wouldn't worry about it too much.”

“Oh…” Then I wouldn't waste his hot water.

What would a hot shower feel like? Sonic showers were the same temperature as the air in the rooms they were in. They had no temperature control. Could I make this shower have cold water?

“These other switches are for the lights, but you don’t have to worry about those for now either,” Paz explained.

“Thank you,” I said, setting his clothes onto the small counter.

I felt something brush against my shoulder, and I tensed.

“I hope this won’t scar,” whispered Paz, running a gloved finger just under the skin of my irritated neck. “Though it would be a show of your strength. Resilience.”

My strength?

“...Paz?”

“Hmm.”

“...Have...Have you ever had a slave before? Owned one, I mean.”

Paz’s hand immediately retreated to his side. “No.”

A curt answer. Short and to the point. I supposed I should have elaborated.

“Well, I don’t mean to be-” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. “-Overbearing, or anything. But, what would a Mandalorian want with a slave?”

“... Excuse me?”

Yep, this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have asked. I should have kept my mouth shut and-

“Is that what you still think you are? Do you think you’re my slave?” Paz asked, though I don’t think I was supposed to answer. Was it malice in his voice or disappointment?

Maybe I wasn’t his slave, but rather he was taking me to someone else. Perhaps he didn’t like that word - slave - and wanted to call me something different. Or maybe-

Oh. That’s right. He thought I was someone from his childhood. Someone he had lost.

“You, (Y/n), are not a slave. You never will be again, do you understand?”

I weakly nodded my head.

“I need you to say it. You are not a slave.”

“...I’m not a slave,” I said, though I didn’t actually believe those words. There must have been a catch to this.

“You can go wherever you want and do whatever you want. If you want me to drop you off on the closest planet, just tell me. If you want to say what’s on your mind, say it. You are not in chains anymore, and you certainly don’t belong to anyone. You are free,” Paz said, his voice was firm.

I’m not a slave. I can do what I want. I can say what I want… I-

“I am free,” I whispered. I felt a lump forming in my throat.

I did not belong to Paz. He had freed me. He was giving me this opportunity to start over.

All I could do was nod my head while my throat closed up and I tried to keep the waterworks from starting. I could feel my lip starting to quiver and I hoped the big blue Mandalorian would leave before the dam broke.

Paz nodded his head, “Good. No one can tell you what to do ever again.” He then brushed past me and into the hull. The door closed behind him.

I stood there for a moment, focused on my breathing and not my racing heart.

I turned on the water like Paz showed me and started taking off my- Oola’s clothes.

I stepped into the shower, muscles tensing at the cold temperature. I intentionally set it that way so I wouldn't waste any warm water.

I felt the droplets cascade down my face. It soon became difficult to tell what water was from the shower and what came from my silent crying.

I felt so overwhelmed with happiness and fear. I was ecstatic at the prospect of no longer being a slave. Paz said no one could tell me what to do anymore. I liked that. I didn’t want to be forced into anything ever again.

However, this brought forth so many new questions. What was I going to do with myself? Where would I go? Would Paz want me around? Did I even want to stay with Paz? I didn’t even know how to survive on my own. If Paz dropped me off on some foreign planet, I would have no idea how to make a life for myself.

Damn the maker, I couldn't even read!

Stepping out of the shower and turning it off, I took a look at myself in the mirror.

Who was that? I had never seen myself all wet before. My hair looked a shade darker and was weighed down by all the water it had soaked up. Was this what people normally looked like after getting wet?

I had never felt so clean. I was refreshed and much calmer than I had been before. I decided I would never use a sonic shower again if I could avoid it.

Water showers were much nicer.

I took the clothes Paz had given me and put them on. They were far too big. The black long-sleeved shirt was more like a dress on me. The sleeves hung past my fingers in a way that made me feel like I could gently slap something with them. The pants, on the other hand, were gray loose-fitting sweats, likely meant more for lounging than for bounty hunter work. They were also much too long, so I rolled them up till I could see my feet.

These must have been clothes that Paz slept in.

I had to reuse the undergarments that came with Oola’s outfit. Maybe I could ask Paz to take me someplace where I could get my own.

Maybe… Or I could just rewash these and not bother him with it. What would be worse, asking for new clothes or asking for a place to wash these? Hmm… I didn’t know what would be less trouble for him.

Walking out of the ‘fresher, I saw Paz had once again been working on my collar. I wondered what he was doing with it.

I had my- Oola’s clothes folded and clutched to my chest. I stood there awkwardly.

What would I do now?

“Um, thank you,” I said.

Paz looked up from where he sat.

“For everything, I mean… I’ve never taken a shower with water before. It’s really nice.”

Paz nodded his head. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long day and I’m sure you're tired.”

I was. My feet still hurt and so did my neck. Would this Mandalorian go to sleep as well?

“Ok,” I said.

I remember Paz saying I could sleep in his bed, so I made my way to his quarters.

Opening the door and walking it, the room was much smaller than I imagined it would be for such a big Mandalorian.

In fact, it wasn’t even really a room. It was only a bed and took up the whole space.

I crawled inside and shuffled around to pull back the sheets. I layed down on the only pillow, leaving the door up as to not feel boxed in.

Then I realized my damp hair was making the pillow wet so I pushed the pillow aside and layed down without it.

How did Paz fit in here? There was no way I could imagine him sleeping comfortably in such a tight space.

Regardless, this was the best thing I had ever laid on. It was much nicer than a soiled mattress with only a thin blanket.

It was warm too. Much warmer than what I was used to. Everything was soft and cozy. I felt safe here.

Safe enough to fall asleep.

(Part 4 coming soon!)

Mandoa Translations:

“Shereshir be Ade” - “Kidnapping of Children”

“Ni ceta” - an apology (rare)

“Sarad” - “Flower”

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@abysshaven​ | @maddie-madz | @lovely-lil-creme​ | @courageinthemidst​ | @remmysbounty​ | @sacredmirrxrs | @honimello​ 

[kaepop-trash]

the miscellaneous are back! please ever since you made doyoung an absolute no in of snakes and lions i've been a mess. i need more of him anything but maybe doyoung and oc getting together or breaking up? i know i shouldn't but i feel so sad for him.

The Miscellaneous never left! My inbox is always open for them. Send any whenever you want, if you’re curious about something about the character. I can’t promise to always be as quick to reply as I was with this, I just happened to have some time and and the moment I read your ask the idea came to me. But irrespective, I will reply to all asks.

I did both getting together and breaking up. I was hoping this both justifies you feeling bad for him but also explains why it was one of the doomed ones. Kim Doyoung truly my king of doomed romances (haha) In case you want a genuinely well-written story that has a lot of similar elements but has Doyoung as the main lead, you should go read @notnctu‘s hogwarts au Push&Pull. It was incredible and I’m still not over it. For now, here’s what you wanted.

--

"No." (Y/N) furrowed her brows.

"No?" Doyoung raised his.

"No." She repeated herself.

Doyoung frowned, caught off-guard by her response. He chewed on the flesh inside his mouth till it was swollen.

He took a struggling breath, trying to keep his voice patient. "I'm asking you out on a date, (Y/N). After we've been sleeping together for three months. And you're saying no?" 

"Precisely." She didn't seem phased.

"Why?" His brows furrowed further, a look only Kim Doyoung could pull off.

"Because." She blinked twice, fluttering her gaze away from his intense stare, "You're clearly infatuated with that Gryffindor girl. You have been since 7th year. Sex is fine. But I'm not going to be anybody's emotional substitute." She stared at the grains of the wooden table before looking out the window, the library overlooking the grounds.

"You aren't a substitute. I used to like Jisoo." He sat down on the chair beside her.

She scoffed, turning to him. "And now, what? You like me? Why because I let you fuck me when she won't?" She scoffed again, a lump forming in her throat despite herself.

"No." He put his hand on her cheek, turning her to face him. "Because we're the same, you and I. Because I thought that you understood that I was falling for you despite me having to say it. Because despite myself, I found myself coming back to you over and over." He blinked.

A bitter smile formed on her lips, "I don't want to be someone a person likes despite their better judgement."

Doyoung groaned, "You're making this so much harder than it needs to be." He frowned again.

"Good." She interjected. "I didn't ask for this." She groaned herself when her vision blurred from tears she tried to blink away.

She hated him. 

She hated him for kissing her that one night three months ago in the library. She hated him for leaving without a word and then coming back the next day for more. She hated him for saying all the right things in her ears while he was deep inside her. But most of all she hated herself for allowing herself to grow feelings for him while knowing better.

"Please." His voice was a soft plea, it made her heart flutter. "Just try it. Go out with me once." He took her cold hands in his clammy ones, the heat spreading through her, "If at any point I do anything to hurt you then put some dreadful potion in a glass and give it to me. Or hex me. But don't just push this away without giving it a try." 

She knew this would be wrong. She knew she should say no. But against her better judgement, she kissed him instead.

_

Doyoung knew that out of all the way to deal with fights, walking away wasn't the best. But he also knew himself, he knew it was better than saying things he did not mean in a moment's anger.

He drew in an irritated breath, frustrated with everything. Everything was impossibly hard with (Y/N). They both felt with equal ferocity but stayed silent about most things. It was one of the similarities they had that had turned into a vice over the years; a long relationship of bitter things left unsaid till it was spat in a fit of rage. 

He looked over the viaduct at the gaping precipice it stood over. Caught off-guard by the sound of shuffling footsteps as they came and stood beside him. He wasn't sure how he missed it.

"Oh hey it is you! I was wondering if I was seeing correctly." A voice he knew too well made him look away from the edge to upturned eyes.

He hadn't seen her in a while, the castle was large enough for that to happen sometimes, but age only made Jisoo more beautiful. He blushed when he realised he was staring at her.

"I haven't seen you ever since I dropped potions for divination. I used to think the castle wasn't that big, but I guess not huh?" She bumped her shoulder with his as she placed her elbows on the balustrade, looking down at where he was looking before. "What are we looking at?" She questioned, eyes focusing on searching whatever he was looking at.

"Nothing." He spoke too soon, his voice too gruff.

She looked up at him, lips parted and eyes wide. Then something seemed to click inside, "Oh. I interrupted some deep thought, didn't I?" She winced.

"No!" He defended, again too quick. He cleared his throat, looking away and trying to level his voice, "Nothing too deep." He dismissed.

She scoffed, “You’re always thinking something deep. You’re the smart one.” Her words stirred something inside Doyoung. 

He cursed himself.

"You look good, Doyoung." Her words made his neck snap to face her. She bit her lip, fluttering her gaze away from his. He noted the pink tint of her cheeks, eyes furrowing in confusion.

What was going on?

Jisoo took a step back from the edge, her form lingering as she turned to him, "It was nice to see you again Doyoung. Really nice. You've really grown into yourself." Her eyes brushed against his shoulders and it was his turn to blush.

"Thank you." The words were spat out, distracted. She gave him one last breathtaking smile before turning and walking into the fog that had settled on the grounds.

_

Doyoung was sure he had forgotten to breathe when he heard his door open. (Y/N) stood at the door, first with a look of devastation in her eyes and then nothing. Her hand gripped the handle so tight that it creaked under the assault.

"(Y/N), baby." He pushed Jisoo off his lap with a swift motion. Getting out of his bed and following her while she walked out of his rooms and to the stairs. Not caring that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"(Y/N)!" He cried out, grabbing her arm desperately. A pain shot through the arm he used to grab her, noticing her wand in the other hand.

“Touch me again and I will honour your promise and hex you. Go back to your room, Doyoung. You are shirtless and have an erection. Don’t embarrass yourself and more importantly, do not embarrass me.” Her eyes welled up but her voice was hollow.

Panic clawed up Doyoung’s throat till it burned worse than his arm, “Darling, please.” He begged, grabbing her shoulder. He flew back from another unspoken spell, hitting the wall beside his door with a loud thud and a vicious crack in his arm. He sat helplessly and heard the echoes of her rushing down the stairs of the tower.

When he walked back into the room, Jisoo was sitting at the edge of his bed. Her shirt still had the buttons of the top half open, her chest exposed.

“You’re hurt.” She looked at her arm, twisted at an excruciating angle.

“Leave.” His voice was frigid.

She ignored his words, “Let me look at your arm.” She got up.

“Get out, Jisoo.” He repeated with more anger. Her steps faltered.

She looked up at him, her eyes fighting between guilt from what happened and the hurt his voice made her feel, “She’s gone, Doyoung.” She felt small as the words left her, “I’m still here.” She took a few steps closer.

“Exactly.” He spat the word at her, “I was wrong. I made a mistake. Now she’s gone.” There was a passing pain in his eyes, one that turned to bitter ice when they met hers, “And you’re still here.” While he felt utterly ashamed at the moment, it was easier to lash out on the person in front of him.

“Doyoung.” Her voice quivered as tears fell from her eyes, “Please.” She looked to the floor.

“You aren’t her, Jisoo. You’re just a beautiful face I was infatuated with my entire childhood. (Y/N) is my other half, you can’t be that.” He turned away from her, searching for his shirt on the floor.

“Then why?” She whispered, “Why did you sleep with me? Why did you do it thrice?” Her voice gained in volume and hatred. Doyoung was glad he wasn’t in front of her when the words made him wince.

He looked up at her and shrugged, “I told you. I wanted to know how it would feel to have what I wanted for so many years. It wasn’t that great.” He tried to keep his eyes bored.

She stared at him in disbelief before biting down her jaw. She looked away and buttoned her shirt back up, “Then I guess you just saved two people from wasting their time on a vile person like you.” She looked up when she was done. He suppressed the effect of the sting her words caused again, giving her nothing in his eyes. She huffed one last time, picking up what she had left of her dignity and left with the head held high.

Doyoung slowly sat down on his bed, putting his head on the palm of one hand, while his broken arm stayed limp beside him. Taking a shaky breath, he let the pain that seared from the fractured bone feel like a well-deserved punishment..