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riaki · 6 months

Note

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

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tadpolesonalgae · 11 days

Text

Bloodlust.[*]

Azriel x reader

a/n: thank you, anon <3, I had a lot of fun writing this 😌

warnings: smut, spitting, hate-sex, slight power imbalance?

word count: 4,170

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Where’s your report?”

“I thought you were doing it.”

The look Azriel gives you is filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his classical features twist into an expression of silent hatred.

“You have thirty minutes to get it written up and on my desk,” he says shortly, words icy and clipped in the exact way that has irritation scratching at the back of your mind. “That’s completely unreasonable,” you reply bluntly. “Besides,” you say, holding his dark gaze, “I thought you were my superior. I was just there to offer assistance, so there’s no need for me to submit a formal report.”

“My desk. Half an hour,” he repeats coldly, his tone blunt and unforgiving. “Not a minute later.”

Then he turns, closing the door with enough force it creates a distinct hissing noise on the way shut, leaving you to struggle with the deadline.

————

Twenty-nine minutes later you deliver three forceful knocks to his door, blood hot as it boils in your veins, report still stuck to your clipboard which is in turn tucked beneath your arm.

“Enter,” he calls, and a muscle in your jaw ticks at the tone. Curt and demanding. Still, you step inside, allowing the door to click shut, dropping the clipboard on his desk on top of a file he was writing in, hopefully smudging the ink as the board clatters upon the surface. “Good enough?” You nearly spit, but manage to tone down the venom just enough.

Thunder claps from outside as your eyes meet, and he picks the report up, leaning back in his chair as he begins to read through the hurried scrawl. You bite down a snappy remark, hands clasped behind your back in proper fashion as you’re forced to wait for him to complete his review. You get the distinct impression he’s taking his time.

His dark eyes pause a third of the way down the page, brows narrowing before dragging his gaze to yours. “The disposal was rushed and excessively violent. Diplomacy would have been preferable, and much more suitable?” He reads aloud, voice rough and gravelly with barely restrained ire.

“You asked for my report,” you counter lowly, unable to help the disagreeable twist of your features as you glare at him. “Diplomacy did not guarantee the mission’s success. It would have been a waste of time,” he replies.

“That’s just like you to rush into violence,” you hiss, nails digging into the skin of your wrist with the amount of restraint you’re using to keep from doing something you’ll regret. “You resort to slaughter at the slightest inconvenience,” you seethe, nails piercing the skin. “Fucking Illyrian,” you spit.

Ire blazes behind his eyes, reflecting the hatred burning in your own gaze.

Not breaking eye-contact, he reaches for a blank sheet of paper and places it before him on the desk, jabbing his finger once down atop the page. “Rewrite it. Now.”

A startled laugh barks from your throat as you stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

You stare at him longer, furious indignation boiling your blood, able to feel as your temper begins to bubble over with blatant provocation. “You’re a spiteful piece of shit,” you seethe lowly but he doesn’t buckle beneath your rage. You wouldn’t hate him as much as you do if you could so easily get the better of him. “You just want me to write a report in your favour. You can’t stand that you might have made the wrong call.”

“It was the right call,” he replies harshly, a hiss in his voice, “your lack of experience is limiting your understanding. I knew you weren’t fit for this mission—I’ll have you moved to a more suitable position.”

“You’re the one in the wrong position,” you spit, stalking forward so you’re right before his desk. “You’re too prone to excessive violence. You needlessly took a life that could have been saved. It would have been of no consequence to us if he lived.”

“His existence would have only perpetuated the problem,” Azriel repeats lowly, his own temper beginning to show as he stands from his desk, palms flattening across its surface as he leans forward. “Purge from the roots, or it will only return. Now write the report.”

Gritting your teeth any tighter would have surely caused one to crack beneath the pressure, and you can perfectly imagine how it would feel to launch yourself across the desk and wrap your hands around his throat. To squeeze until he’s thrashing beneath you, that indomitable figure writhing beneath you as you begin to pry the life from his body…to set him alight and watch him scream.

You ease out a breath, soothed by the surprisingly violent imagery. You aren’t one to generally resort to that kind of solution, but with him it seems almost irresistible…the call of violence, how good it would feel to watch blood bead on his skin.

Frustration slightly abated, you drag the paper from beneath his hold. “Give me the clipboard.”

“You’ll complete it here, where I can see you,” he replies icily.

“Fine. Give me the clipboard,” you bite out, rage already rising again.

“You don’t need it. You’ll write it here,” he says, gesturing to the desk.

A tinge of red creeps into your vision, and it takes all your discipline not to reach for the blades tucked beneath your clothes. Stiff with rage, you drag the paper to the side of his desk, walking around to his side as you take a pen from the pot, making a point of reaching through his personal space. Then, as you’re retracting, you decide you’ve had enough of restraining yourself. “Illyrian scum,” you hiss out, gaze piercing into him as your hand tightens around the pen, clutching it as though it were a blade.

His pupils narrow into slits and his fingers crush at the soft skin of your throat. Your entire body contracts beneath the brutal touch, the tip of steel already poised to slice into leather and cut through his blackened heart. Stalemate.

“You’re a fucking piece of work,” he snarls out gutturally, expression twisted into picturesque wrath, ignoring the stinging pain as you slide the blade deeper, sharp enough to pierce the leather with ease, poised to cut into flesh. He seems to remember himself, hold lightening only marginally…enough you have to pull back on the blade or else he’ll be justified in his hostility.

“Infighting is forbidden,” you manage to get out, making sure to keep the steel close enough to his flesh he knows you won’t hesitate anymore. “You broke a rule, Spymaster.”

“And what will you do?” He asks, cruel mirth glittering in his dark hazel eyes. “Will you try for diplomacy now?” He hisses, squeezing the sides of your throat painfully.

“Why would I bother with a brute?” You rasp back, neither of you bothering to conceal the venom in your voices. “Clear aggression is the only language you’ll understand, so I’ll just have to act in a way that’ll get through that thick skull of yours.”

“Brandishing a weapon against me is enough to have you permanently removed from your position,” he hisses down at you.

“Fine,” you breathe, coming to the same conclusion as he has for the expulsion of rage that’s been building up inside of you. “Hand-to-hand combat it is.”

His hand releases your throat at the same time the blade falls from your fingertips, his grip sliding to the nape of your neck as your arms snake over his shoulders, nails raking through his hair as you’re magnetically snatched against one another, hardly a breath of air to be found between your bodies as you’re crushed against one another. Teeth flash as canines scrape, but his fingers dig into the tendon at your neck, forcing you to seize as he pries you apart with his tongue and mouth. Your lip curls in a snarl as he pushes into you, able to see how his wings have instinctively flared at his back, shadows writhing and deepening with unsuppressed fury.

Without giving him a chance to defend your arms surge further down his back, nails brandished as they scratch across the intimate skin of his wings, slicing the leathery surface jaggedly. He recoils, a vicious snarl cutting through the room that has satisfaction blazing across your chest. Rage bleeds across his features and his hand returns to your throat, shoving you down onto his desk, papers flying as ink spills across the surface, pens clattering as they drop to the floor. Your hands fly to his wrist, scratching at his scarred knuckles but his mouth has already descended over yours again and you move to grip at his hair, silky and soft beneath your violent touch. Heat swarms your skin as his shadows pin you down, writhing pleasantly across your body in a way that has your insides fluttering.

Azriel again pries your lips apart, tongue sweeping in as his mouth slants invasively over your own, flicking and stroking while his fingers hold your jaw in a vice-like grip. A strange feeling skitters beneath your skin, and you wrap your legs around his hips, minimising the space between your bodies as he presses flush against your centre.

You can feel him.

Oh Gods, you can feel him completely.

Your mouth parts as you push against him, tongue sweeping across his own, the kisses hot and wet as each of you refuse to lighten your grip on the other and your thighs squeeze him closer, determined you won’t be losing this battle.

Azriel pulls away abruptly, and you look up at him, watching keenly for any move he’ll make, aware what kind of beast you’re taunting. “Keep still,” he commands roughly, voice like gravel as his shadows swarm your body, and you snarl as the hand that was pinning your throat to the desk drops to the hem of your shirt. Before you have a chance to counter he’s lowered to your neck, hair having fallen back onto the surface so he has plenty of room as his shadows shove your face to the side.

You inhale sharply as his teeth graze the sensitive expanse, grip tugging on his hair to get him closer, eager to have him working his mouth over the intimate area. “Hurry up,” you hiss, eager to be rid of the burning heat as soon as possible.

“I’ll go at whatever pace I like,” he replies darkly before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave more than just a mark in his wake. A noise of pleasure seeks to slip from your mouth as he palms at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as he targets a spot just beneath your ear, kissing down your neck as he makes his way to your collar bones, littering your skin with deep bite marks that will surely remain for days, even with accelerated healing.

“You’re an arrogant prick, you know that,” you pant, putting as much venom into your voice as you can manage, thighs tightening around his hips so you can feel him more acutely, the thick length of him rubbing over your centre. “And you’re turned on by that?” He counters sharply with a hungry glint in his eyes.

Heat flushes your skin as you make to deny his claim, but his shadows have been untying the laces of your trousers making it easy for him to roughly grip the waistband and shove the material away, dragging it over your thighs and off past your ankles, leaving you with only your underwear to conceal your lower half. “Slow down,” you snarl, searching for a way to regain control of the situation. You hate that he’s the one in charge.

Azriel grips the underside of your thighs, guiding them to wrap snugly around his hips again as his hand slips beneath your shirt again, settling over your breast, fingers skimming your nipple tauntingly. “Hurry up. Slow down. Which one is it?” He goads, something that looks too close to male satisfaction passing through his expression for you to stand. Your lip curls and before you can second-guess yourself you’ve spat at him.

He freezes for a moment, motion halting and you find yourself holding your breath, keeping entirely still beneath him. Waiting for the storm to break.

Fury engulfs his eyes, features twisting in a snarl as he grips your jaw, fingers squeezing at the muscle as he forces your mouth open, spitting down between your lips. Your eyes widen as arousal flutters violently in your lower abdomen, unable to help the way your hips buck as you swallow. Sadism glints in his hazel eyes, his own arousal beginning to filter through into your lungs but to your surprise you don’t hate it.

“Like that?” He croons lowly, leaning over you while still gripping your jaw, eyes dark and dangerous yet there’s an unmistakable heat that he’s not quite able to entirely suppress. Rage pierces through your mind and your palm smacks across his cheek, nails catching on his brow and temple as you snarl lowly. “Try that again,” you hiss in warning, “I’m not against walking out right now if you pull something like that again.”

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” he replies icily, syllables dragging from his throat.

“Prick,” you snarl.

“Brat,” he bites back.

You make to smack him again but his shadows snare your wrists faster than you can blink, slamming them painfully back onto the table, the impact ringing through your bones but you refuse to show your wince. You open your mouth to hiss something at him—what, you haven’t yet decided—but the intention dissolves on your tongue as you feel him cup you through your underwear. Heat unravels in your lower stomach, liquefying into a torrent as arousal breaks all at once across your skin and you find yourself breathless. Cruel, dark hazel eyes pierce into yours, watching intently as he rests the heal of him palm over the apex of your thighs, his middle finger running tauntingly over your entrance, applying a light pressure to the dip between your legs.

Male satisfaction is written across his features but you find you can’t think of anything to knock it away: your hands are pinned, your legs slung over his hips, and you’re in no state to control the small amount of magic you possess. Azriel’s mouth remains in a loathsome cut, but you can still make out that heat in his gaze, the slight ember that’s the cause of this whole mess—you wonder how clearly it’s showing in your own eyes.

“Nothing to say?” He asks lowly over your mouth, silky hair brushing against your brow like a tender caress—the gentlest touch either of your will ever share between one another, and entirely unintended. “Don’t worry,” he rasps coldly, thumbing your underwear out of the way and your lips part on a sharp inhale as you feel his cock slide through the wetness that’s coalesced between your thighs. “I’ll make sure to fuck the brat out of you.”

“At least my negative traits can be removed,” you manage to hiss out ruefully, wishing to be able to rake your nails across his skin somehow. “There’s no changing what you are.”

You don’t need to remind him of your earlier comment. He’s been hearing the words repeat through his mind since you spat them out: Illyrian scum.

Icy fury glitters in his gaze, fingertips biting bruises into your hips as he lines himself up and swiftly pushes in, the entrance made almost effortless by how wet you are; you’re somewhat relieved when he makes no comment about it.

Your spine arches helplessly, lips parting as he pushes in, filling you up in a way you hadn’t anticipated or even considered. Satisfying the ache that had been thrumming between your legs, giving you something long and thick to squeeze. Your only saving grace is that he seems to be as breathless as you are, brow lowered to the top of your sternum, lips grazing between your breasts as his hands remain firmly on your hips. From another angle you’d think it looked reverent, but then you’d also look in the heights of pleasure, and no matter how Azriel might be able to make you feel physically, there’s no removing the guttural hatred that burns between you.

“Move,” you whisper, panting softly. “Move.”

His wings twitch almost imperceptibly at his back, then he’s dragging himself upright, pulling away from you to stand to his full height as he looms above. You swallow thickly, having enough sense to squeeze your thighs around his hips, legs locking as you urge him to move; to give more. “Hold still,” he breathes, and your muscles instinctively relax, giving him room to shift.

“So you can follow orders,” he muses lowly, holding you tight as he draws back.

“Fuck o—” you begin to say, but he rolls his hips firmly to yours and your head tips back onto his desk, falling to the side as his cock rubs so delightfully against you, pleasure brimming at your edges from being so full, so spread out. He doesn’t give you time to recover. After another firm roll of his hips, as if testing you out, he finds his rhythm instinctively. Hard, punishing movements that allow him to pound into you, shoving the breath from your lungs as he repeatedly slams into you.

Your spine arches, writhing on his desk as you tug at the shadowy constraints, desperate noises being forced from your chest as his cock drives into you over and over again, thoughts practically falling out of your mind as it turns to mush beneath the utterly overwhelming onslaught of pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut, blocking him out so you can concentrate only on the purest part of the sensations, zero in on the flutter of arousal between your legs, the rightness of being so full up, of having him pressed so tight between your thighs.

You allow yourself to fall deeply into the pleasure, allow yourself to be washed away entirely, submerged in the heated waters as you keep just enough of a hold on him to prevent your legs from falling off the desk. A moan slips from between your lips as your control begins to disintegrate, content to bask in the pleasure and forget who’s providing it. Azriel doesn’t make it that easy, though.

“Things would be so much better if you just learned to shut up and take it sooner,” he mutters down at you, shadows crawling leisurely over your body, pushing the fabric of your top up over your chest so their master can watch as your figure moves with each of his thrusts. Pleasure blossoms as his darkness teases the sensitive peaks of your breasts, pinching and playing with your nipples, and you try to dig your nails into your palm, teeth pushing into your lower lip to keep the noises from becoming louder.

“You’re so well-behaved now,” he muses lowly, and even if his expression wouldn’t show his pleasure, you can hear it the rich timbre of his voice, the satisfaction he’s feeling at getting you to shut up. “So docile,” he taunts, and your eyes snap open to shoot him a furious glare for trying to disrupt your pleasure. For succeeding. But no sooner than you open your eyes, his thumb presses over your clit and any resistance is utterly obliterated.

Azriel hadn’t anticipated how it would feel however, how your body would respond to the intimate kind of stimulation he was subjecting you to, and is unable to bite down on the rough groan that drags viscerally from his chest as you tighten around him, as if trying to pull him deeper so he’ll never leave.

The both of you are near your breaking point though neither wants to admit it. But the signs are there. Your panting breaths, the gleam on his skin, the heat to your cheeks, the tension in his body—it’s all there for the other to read. He rubs against a spot and despite subduing your reaction he somehow knows where to aim, targeting it repeatedly as his thumb soothes over your clit, the pad sliding effortlessly over top from the slick that’s coating the both of you. It’s so much that your discipline slips for a moment. “Azriel…”

It’s softer than a breath, quieter than a whisper, but he hears it. Of course he hears it. And he finds that he likes the way you moan his name. Especially while getting to take his tension out on you so roughly. It’s probably more satisfying than any method he could have thought up on his own.

His grip tightens on your hips, angling them slightly upright as he leans over you. “Say that again,” he commands quietly, but firmly. An intensity in his demand that has your throat rolling. You don’t want to, but you can feel his concentration piercing down on you, the intensity of his focus weighing so heavily that you feel like your skin is prickling.

“Piss off,” you manage to get out, but you can feel how swiftly release is gathering, how close you are to that wonderful high that will knock you clean from your feet.

For a moment he continues with his punishing movements, but it seems like he’s committed now. You hadn’t fully understood what it would mean to have his entire attention upon you, but when he roughly rips you from his desk, jerking you up against his chest as he turns the two of you around so your back is shoved up against his wall, you feel the consequences dawn on you.

From this position you’re forced so much closer, the physical intimacy catching you off guard as your breasts press flush to his chest, staring into cold hazel eyes that can be no more than a few inches from your own, able to feel each puff of breath that’s expelled from his body as it brushes over your lips. He takes up all of your vision, wings flared slightly at his back as shadows crawl up your body, pinching at your nipples, pressing against your clit as his hips buck roughly to your own and you feel yourself unravel.

The orgasm pulses through your body once, before crashing down on you in its entirety, and your mouth parts in silent ecstasy.

His hand slides through your hair, your own having found their place on his shoulders, and he angles your head so you’re forced to look at him. “Say it,” he murmurs, lips brushing over yours, and your world is thawed enough that you yield.

“Az…riel…”

A heavy sigh warms your mouth, then his teeth grit, head dropping to your shoulder as you feel him find his release. Your hips buck, hands grappling to reach over his shoulders, pulling him into you as the waves of pleasure continue to pulse through your body, muscles turning custard-like beneath the overpowering sensations. Reaching weakly over his back, you have enough energy to lightly skim the pads of your fingers over the ridges of his wings, and if it wasn’t for his proximity to you, you’re almost certain you would have missed the soft moan that involuntary parts from his lips. He tenses briefly, the only sign that he was caught off guard before his teeth settle over your shoulder, biting lightly at the side of your throat.

Breaths pant between you as you ride out the aftershocks, basking in the waning pleasure for a few moments longer before your hold relaxes on him, and he steps back, hands still keeping your hips pinned to the wall despite your feet now being on the ground.

You bite back a hiss as his cock leaves you feeling slightly cold and empty, but you’d rather take a near-lethal dose of faebane than tell him that. His gaze meets yours and for a second you’re unsure what you could possibly say to one another. But his expression remains cold, your own features shifting habitually towards neutrality.

“You have until tomorrow morning to redo the report,” he mutters, already having his clothes back in place as his shadows push your trousers to your stomach, and your hands wrap around the bundle of fabric.

“Want me to write a report on this, too?” You reply, relieved that the heat is beginning to cool, sensing you’re back in control of yourself.

His brow narrows, the hollow beneath darkening with loathing. “You’re more trouble that you’re worth,” he mutters, stepping back to give you space.

You meet his icy gaze, a sharp glint in your own as victory sparks darkly across your chest.

“Liar.”

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel smut #azriel x reader smut #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses

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oraclemoontarot · 3 months

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what should you love about yourself - pac tarot reading ★

from top -> 1 - 2

from bottom -> 3 - 4

for those struggling with self-love, confidence, doubt and their overall well-being, I thought I'd do a positive reading that appreciates the qualities that make you the amazing person that you are.

please note that this is a general reading and various different energies may pick your pile, so only take what resonates 💗

pile 1 - two sunflowers

cards pulled: high priestess, queen of wands, page of cups + three of cups

what should you love about yourself ౨ৎ

you should love your strong intuition and connection to your subconscious. you are someone who is strong and self-reliant. like the queen of wands, you are creative and inspiring, passionate and with strong leadership qualities - you are able to bring with you confidence and enthusiasm no matter the situation.

despite this inner strength and outward confidence, you are also able to connect with others on a more emotional and understanding level. you have a great amount of empathy for others, even more so towards those in your inner circle. you are also able to express yourself openly and honestly.

overall: with the three of cups, you place a lot of value on your friendships/relationships. you are a social butterfly who is able to bring harmony and joy to the people around you. you are supportive, kind and fun.

pile 2 - the sun

cards pulled: ten of wands, nine of swords, judgment + eight of cups

what should you love about yourself ౨ৎ

despite these sets of cards often representing struggles, in this case it emphasises not only your resilience and perseverance through challenges, but your empathy and concern for those that mean a lot to you. you may often find yourself worrying a lot for the well-being of your friends and family; it may weigh heavy on your mind at times, but that reflects your level of care and love for people. you have a deep and pure heart that is hard to find.

with judgment, you are self-aware and have grown a lot. it is as though you are constantly changing for the better - you constantly reflect on your mistakes to become the best version of you.

overall: the eight of cups shows your ability to leave behind the things that don't serve you for the betterment of your well-being. you don't let others bring you down, or life to keep you in a standstill. this takes a lot of courage, but also confidence in yourself and your abilities.

pile 3 - sun in the clouds

cards pulled: emperor, ace of wands, ace of pentacles + queen of cups

what should you love about yourself ౨ৎ

you have strong leadership qualities and are able to bring people together/take charge of any situation, yet you are also creative and full of bright and unique ideas. you are incredibly passionate too, but also practical. it is as though you have a balanced mix of creativity and logic. with the ace of pentacles, you may be someone who could easily gain a lot of wealth as you likely are good with money - both in terms of saving it and earning it.

overall: with the queen of cups, there is this feminine energy within you that brings balance. the queen of cups is someone who is warm and nurturing, a great listener and advisor, someone who is like a mother figure in terms of your emotional awareness, empathy and intuition. you should love the strength that stems from your sensitivity, as well as your practical and authoritative side. you are a balanced person in all aspects of your character.

pile 4 - the eclipse

cards pulled: four of swords, knight of wands, ten of pentacles + chariot

what should you love about yourself ౨ৎ

you should love the calmness that you bring to people as well as yourself. you are able to find inner peace and you often prioritise self-care. despite this calm, there is also a sense of enthusiasm, energy, thrill and joy to you. you aren't afraid to grab the bull by the horns and charge straight into your goals and, with the ten of pentacles, you are also stable and there is this sense of wisdom to you. you may be someone who wants to share a life with a special person, to experience having a family, or you may love working with children.

overall: with the chariot, you should love that strength and fire within you. your take charge ability and perseverance in pursuit of your goals - which often end up victorious simply due to your sheer determination.

#tarot #tarot reading #free tarot #tarot community #pick a card #pick a pile #daily tarot #pac reading #general reading #general tarot reading #what should you love about yourself

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jgracie · 10 days

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THE MONSTER’S GONE, HE’S ON THE RUN AND YOUR DADDY’S HERE

masterlist | rules

in which jason is a hero in more ways than one

pairings jason grace x fem!reader

warnings reader is afab/can get pregnant

on the radio . . . beautiful boy (darling boy) (john lennon)

an my blog has become baby fever central so naturally i had to deliver 🫡, shoutout to anya ( @puffoz ) for helping me name the eldest grace daughter <3

The night after you told Jason you were pregnant with your first child, you’d woken up to the sound of sniffles coming from a certain someone sleeping right next to you. At first, you were confused - Jason had been ecstatic a few hours ago when you broke the news to him, why was he crying now? Then it hit you.

He was scared.

Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, champion of Hera, ex-praetor of Camp Jupiter, Pontifex Maximus and so many other titles you never cared for, was scared. Tenderly, you’d coaxed him out of the ball shape he was currently in (arms wrapped around his knees, head sitting in between his legs) and asked what was wrong, even though you already had an inkling of an idea as to what the matter was.

When he didn’t answer, you didn’t ask again. Knowing Jason like the palm of your hand meant staying silent and waiting for him to be ready to tell you, as expressing and talking about his emotions has been a struggle he only recently began to deal with.

With your hand gently rubbing his back, Jason replied, his voice barely above a whisper, “do you think I’ll be a bad dad?” Only after the question left his lips did Jason make eye contact with you, his eyes glistening with the tears they once held.

Anyone who grew up the way Jason did would naturally have their doubts about their parental abilities: how was he supposed to take care of a baby when he didn’t even know what it was like to be taken care of as a baby? However, you knew the truth.

“No,” you said. It was a simple answer, full of certainty and confidence, “no, Jason, I don’t think you’ll be a bad father. In fact, I know you’ll be a good one. You aren’t your upbringing - you’re kind, caring and hold so much love in your heart for everyone and everything around you despite the circumstances the Fates put you through. Trust me when I say you’ll be the best dad.”

You were, of course, right. Despite all the hardships that come with pregnancy, yours was a breeze thanks to Jason. Throughout the entirety of the nine months you spent carrying your child, he was nothing but supportive. He’d always buy you whatever food you were craving at whatever time (no matter how strange it was), he’d give you massages, he’d comfort you when you were feeling down and so much more.

The next time Jason cried was in the hospital when your baby had arrived. Natalia June Grace was born at 9:47AM and was everything you wished for and more. As Jason stared into her eyes, the eyes she’d inherited from him, he was filled to the brim with conviction: he was going to be the best dad he could possibly be for his precious Talia.

Despite this, Jason would be lying if he said he didn’t have his hard times. He’d be lying if he said he never woke up in the middle of the night, sweaty as he reached for his glasses and reminded himself that the nightmares aren’t real, they don’t define him, he is not Zeus, he is not Jupiter, he is Jason.

Being Jason meant being an excellent father. In Natalia's eyes, Jason hung the moon and the stars - no one could compare to her father. They had a bond like no other and were inseparable from the minute they met. Everywhere Talia went, Jason followed. Dance recital? He had front row tickets and lots of storage on his phone to film every second of it. Impromptu tea party with her barbies? Jason was there, clad in a tutu as he poured invisible tea into their cups. To you, the fact that Natalia viewed him as her hero was no surprise. Jason, however, tended to need some reminding.

“Mommy!” You heard your daughter yell as soon as she and Jason made their way inside your cozy apartment. While your husband locked the door, your daughter ran to the kitchen and gave you a bone crushing hug. Immediately, you let go of the whisk you were holding and hugged back, unable to believe it was now almost six years since she had been born. Time flies when you’re having fun!

Running your fingers through her hair, you said, “Talia, how was school today? I really missed you!” She replied with a quick ‘good’ before going to sit on the dining table, princess themed bag clutched tightly in her little hands as she yapped to you about everything that had happened at school that day. You smiled, admiring the way your daughter managed to breathe life into the most mundane things.

Just as she was beginning to tell you about her current crush, Mikey, and how he shared his KitKat with her during lunch, Jason appeared, bouquet of flowers in hand as he took your own and pressed a kiss onto the back of it.

“Hi honey, I missed you loads today. Got you these ‘cause I noticed the others started wilting,” your smile widened at this gesture: only your husband would be paying that much attention to the flowers scattered around the house. You gave him a peck on the lips before taking the bouquet from him and going to place it in a vase. While you were doing so, you could hear Jason and Natalia having a conversation.

“Do you want me to put your bag in your room, baby?” He asked.

“No thank you daddy, I wanna show you and mommy something first,” she replied. Then, turning around, she yelled, “mommy, come! I wanna show you and daddy what I did at school today!”

You obliged, and you and Jason watched as she rummaged in her school bag before pulling out a single piece of paper and handing it to you. On it, in big bold letters, was the title, ‘My Hero’.

“Read it so daddy can know too!” She squealed, nearly jumping out of her seat in excitement. You stared at the picture of a tall, blond man and a little girl in pigtails she’d drawn to accompany the paragraph she’d written on this topic and felt your heart swell with warmth.

Glancing at Jason for a second, you read, “my hero is my daddy. He is my hero because he always plays with me and gets rid of the monsters under the bed when I go to sleep. I love my daddy very much.”

After you’d finished reading, Natalia looked up at Jason expectantly, a big smile plastered on her face as she waited to hear his reaction. However, her smile dropped when she saw tears roll down his cheeks.

Now pouting, she turned to you for answers, “why is daddy sad?”

You smiled, delicately cupping her face in your palm, “daddy’s not sad, babes, he’s actually really happy. Sometimes, when people are super happy, they cry. Your worksheet means a lot to him, he’s very touched,” at your words, she brightened up.

Natalia then took the paper from you and gave it to Jason, “you can hang it on your wall, daddy, since you like it so much!” She proceeded to give him a peck on the cheek and ran off to her room, not fully understanding exactly how much her simple worksheet meant to Jason.

That was the third time Jason cried: when he realised he wasn’t his upbringing, or Zeus, or Jupiter, or any of the other monsters that lived under his own bed. He was Jason - a great, loving father who put his family above all and was a hero in more ways than one.

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #jason grace fanfic #jason grace drabble #percy jackson x reader #dad jason grace #dad jason grace x reader #cynwrites

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rosiegold23 · 1 year

Text

Your Relationship With Your Future Spouse

Piles: 1 -> 2 -> 3

4 -> 5 -> 6

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Pile 1

Your relationship with your future spouse will be a healing one. In your life you’ve gone through or will have gone through a lot of struggle and there would have been people bringing you down. Your future spouse would be able to see the hurt in your eyes. It’s almost as if you two speak telepathically. Your future spouse will already know you’re hurt without you telling them. They won’t force you to open up, but they will always be there for you. At some point when you’re with them they’ll just ask you if you’re ok or say something like “I know you’re hurting” and this will cause you to tear up and they’ll comfort you and embrace you. Your future spouse will want to protect you. You may be a person that lets people walk over them and/or settles for less. You need to build up your self confidence and self worth! Your future spouse will be very protective over you and will refuse to let you be hurt by others. Hmm your future spouse also may have a savior complex though. It could be to the point he sees you like a kid that needs to be protected from everything and it might get overwhelming at some points. As the relationship goes on it might get to the point they become very over controlling. I feel as if at some point it’ll feel like all they care about is protecting you and it might not feel as much like love anymore and you’ll bring it up, but they’ll end up manipulated or gaslighting you/treating you like a kid again and as if you can’t think for yourself or you don’t know what you’re talking about. That message is not for all of you though because for some of you even if your future husband seems controlling/overprotective they’ll try to calm themselves down in order not to make you uncomfortable and you’ll still be able to see and feel their immense love for you. But back to the people with the more toxic person, You might try to leave them or want to, but they’ll manipulate you or try to trick you into staying with them. If you successfully leave them you may/will end up getting back together with this person because they will make you think that they’ve changed, but you’ll just end up in the same cycle again. I’m not sure if you’ll leave again though. Some of you won't, some of you will. I do feel for some of you the relationship will be a little better this time, but mostly the same as before.

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Pile 2

You guys will have a beautiful relationship. Everything will remind you guys of each other/ you guys will see a lot of things that remind you of the other. Your future spouse or the both of you may be really big on giving each other gifts. All the sadness and heartbreak you went through will all have paid off because this relationship will be like the sun. You will feel so much love for this person. You wouldn’t even know that you could love this much. You guys will be so starstruck when near each other. It’s the energy of having a school crush. When you guys are with each other you guys will feel so safe and connected. You guys will be in your own little world when with each other. It’ll feel like you’re on cloud nine with this person. You guys will always want to be by each other's sides. I see you both going to work or having to be separated for some reason and thinking about each other all day and counting down the seconds until you can leave and see them. Your future spouse also may be someone who expresses their loves through words and they’ll be amazing with their words. You’ll feel so loved by what they tell you and it’ll make your knees go weak and your heart flutter in a way no one else can make it flutter. I see a lot of blushing and smiles for you both/ in this relationship. You guys are each other’s distraction. Even if something bad happens you and your future spouse thoughts would always run back to the other person. You guys would think things like “ Oh i have to tell [future spouse] about this!” or “Well atleast I have [future spouse]”. Also you guys will be so in love that when you guys are near each other it’s like common sense has left the chat. You’ll know this person is your future spouse once you meet this person or once you fall in love with them.

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Pile 3

This won’t go for all of you, but a lot of people in this pile could be really confident people and if not it could be that your future spouse finds you very physically attractive. If you picked this pile there is a high chance you’ve grown up with your future spouse/alongside them. Your future spouse is someone that has gone through a lot of changes in their life personality wise. You guys could have met when you both were young or when one of you was young. There could be an age gap between you two. Also I’m getting this is a pile who’s had/has a friends with benefit relationship with their future spouse. This person may have been coming in and out of your life and when they come back they’re different. Eventually you will/ or have already fallen for them. As for your married relationship, your future spouse will be hot and cold. Your future spouse will be a very caring and loving person when they want to, but they’ll show most of their emotion and love for you through sexual intimacy. This will end up confusing you because other than that your future spouse might seem cold. I’m feeling in this relationship their will be a lot of seperation. You two will get together and then break apart a lot and each time you’ll have hope that it’ll be different. This could be before you get married though. Oh, I’m seeing it as if your relationship will be off and on and then eventually you two will be dating for a while and get married. The time you connect again and get married will be a time where they are successful and making a lot of money. I’m feeling your relationship with them will not be all that great. They definitely won’t be husband/wife/spouse material and they may have friends who try to flirt with you as well. For some of you guys i’m seeing an affair happen. By that I mean you will be the one getting with one of your partner’s friends. Their friend will be much better than them and way nicer and loving. You’ll want to be with your partner’s friend, but the problem is that their friend won’t be looking for anything serious or moving the relationship forward with you. They may just be interested in sex and this will end up upsetting you. I think you may end up divorcing your future husband so you could up marrying someone else after this person. For many of you I’m seeing your next future spouse will be better than the one you divorced.

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Pile 4

So you or your future spouse have a frantic energy. That might be the wrong word, but don’t worry I don’t mean it in a negative way! Whoever has this energy tends to over think and worry a lot about the other person because they want their partner to be happy. Your future spouse seems lowkey obsessive. This could be your energy as well, but I’m feeling it more from your future spouse. They’ll definitely check your social media a lot. And try to keep tabs on everything you do. Your future spouse will want to connect more with you, but will be shy when it comes to their feelings or opening up. You’re future spouse will think of a lot of scenarios with you and how to initiate a conversation and talk about what you like or what to do with you later on (like dates/hanging out kind of things) When ever they think of you their feelings will go into overdrive and they will miss you so much. Your relationship with your future spouse will be very loving and affectionate. They will do whatever they can to make you happy. Your future spouse will always shower you with love and affection especially with their words. They will love to spoil you and give you soo much compliments. They tend to be someone who gives more than they receive, but they won’t mind because they’ll love you so much that they mostly care about your happiness. Your future spouse will find you extremely attractive. They will want to spend all their time with you and they will want to have sexual intimacy with you A LOT. The will quite literally not be able to resist you. To be honest they give me the vibes of one of those shy obsessive yanderes (but without the violent part). They remind me of Azusa from Diabolik Lovers. Well Azusa without any of his violent/extremely masochistic behavior. Just his personality and how quiet, but intrigued he is by Yui (the main character). Your future spouse will notice how obsessive they are over you and will try to distract themself from you so they could be less obsessive and hopefully think of you less. At some point to you they’ll feel less attentive or they’ll seem busy or something and you’ll get worried that something’s wrong or they’re mad at you or something, but in reality they’ll love you so much and be so infatuated with you they won’t know how to deal with it and they’ll be scared that their obsession with you would make you uncomfortable. You guys will end up having a conversation about them suddenly drawing back and they will either end up being truthful about why they are acting the way they are or they won’t tell the whole truth and will just reassure you nothing is wrong and just make an excuse like work was stressful. Overall your relationship with your future spouse will be very fulfilling. Also your future spouse may be really good at hiding their strong feelings for you so it may come as a shock to you. Your future spouse may be very serious or something so their mushy gushy feelings about you could really contrast their personality.

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Pile 5

You and your future spouse will be connected spiritually. You guys may be soul mates. You guys willl have a beautiful connection. You guys will be fulled with love for eachother. The connection will be so deep and powerful. It’s hard to put into words. It’s the kind of connection people only dream about. Just by looking into eachother’s eyes you guys can see eachothers soul. You guys will always have such intense eye contact and you guys will feel little tremors spread throughout your bodies when you guys look at each other. You guys will have a healing connection and you guys will allow you both to find yourselves. You guys will grow and evolve together and turn into beautiful people and a beautiful couple. You two will love to be in each other’s presence and you both will feel like you’re living in a dream. It will be like Utopia with your future spouse. You guys would not be able to bear going back to the life you had without eachother. You two will complete eachother like yin and yang. You guys may become codependent on eachother. You two will be lost without the other. You guys’ connection will feel too good to be true and one or both of you will be scared of losing the other so you guys will be constantly trying to keep the spark in the relationship. You two will feel completely lonely when the other has to leave (like going to work or something) and you guys will wait for the other to get back like a lost puppy. Or maybe you both will go to work and be missing eachother the whole time. I’m not sure what it is, but there is a feeling that one of you may be continously worrying and trying to be with the other person. I was thinking maybe a seperation, but I’m not too sure about that. That part mmay resonate for a reallyy small portion of you guys but I think for most of you guys this could be clinginess. I’m getting eventually you guys will end up working from home or something so you two can be with eachother even more than you guys already are. This relationship really has the feeling of you two being scared to lose eachother so you both will be holding eachother close and never letting go.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Pile 6

For this pile you may have also felt drawn to pile number 5 or 2. Your relationship with your future spouse will feel like a love novel. You two will be very caring, loving, and generous towards eachother. You two will know you guys will be together forever. The spark will never die out and you guys will be like those sweet old married couples when you two get older.Your relationship will involve a lot hugs and cuddles and shared romantic moments. I see two people holding each other and staring into eachothers eyes with eyes full of love. Just by touching eachother you two will know how much the other loves you. I see you two having a cute morning routine and the more masculine person drinking coffee in the morning while they happily talk with the other person. These sweet little moments will make your futre spouse feel very loved and beyond happy. You two will feel invincible with eachother and will spend a lot of time cuddling and talking about the future. You guys will hold on tightly to eachothers hearts and protect them with your lives. Everyday you two will have love for eachother that grows stronger and stronger. You and your future spouse’s love for eachother will be internal. Random, but your future spouse may be reach because I’m seeing them gifting you something very expense. It could be a very expense engagement ring or a different piece of jewelry. Your future spouse will love to look at you and one of the things they will love about you is there smile. I’m hearing the word youthful so in someways you two will have a youthful connection. I’m seeing things like playful teasing and playful fighting that will end with you getting covered in kisses. You two will treasure eachother and will treat eachother with respect. I also see soft kisses and pecks being shared under the moonlight. When you two are with eachother you guys will forget about the past and things around you two. You both will be focused on eachother. Also see your partner stroking your hair and whispering sweet words to you and telling you how much you mean to them and how much they love you. Again you guys’ love will be eternal and the love and deep connection will always be there. What a beautiful connectionn.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

#free readings #shufflemancy #reading exchange #future spouse tarot #paid readings #paid request #pac reading #future spouse pac #future spouse pick a card #future spouse reading #love reading #tarot reading #diviniation

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nori-the-cat · 9 days

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RIIZE as Romance Trope(s)

Remember, this tarot reading is for entertainment purposes only. Take this post with a grain of salt. ♥︎

★ Shotaro: Slow Burn

Tarot cards: eight of swords, two of swords reversed, and the empress

In love, Shotaro is surprisingly hesitant to make a move and can be unsure of his feelings. But when he is sure of his feelings, Shotaro takes a leap of faith and uses his confidence to express his feelings towards the person he likes. The reason why I think he's a slow-burn type of guy is that Shotaro knows his worth. He is caring, and protective, and seeks a fulfilling emotional bond. He takes time to feel assured of his own feelings.

Hence, I think Shotaro's trope is slow-burn but with a twist. He is someone who takes time to process his emotions but, when the time is right, he expresses himself wholeheartedly. He might be the type to write a love song, surprise the person he likes with a meaningful gift, or confess his feelings in a public, unforgettable way.

Channelled song for Shotaro:

★ Eunseok: Lovers in Denial

Tarot cards: ten of pentacles, two of cups reversed, and three of wands reversed

Eunseok might wait a bit longer for love, but when it hits, it'll be a super strong connection, deeper than most. He doesn't care about what others think is "normal" in a relationship. Instead, he's all about finding someone who truly clicks with him on an emotional level and shares his values.

Hence, I think Eunseok is "lovers in denial" kind of guy. The ten of pentacles suggest he craves a stable, secure relationship, but the reversed two of cups hint at trouble expressing his feelings or feeling misunderstood. This might cause some delays or bumps in the road to love. Basically, he might have hidden feelings he's afraid to face, which could slow things down.

This is not to say Eunseok is a bad person or potentially a red flag. He just needs time to process his emotions and confront those feelings. Once he confronts those emotions and accepts that he has romantic feelings for a person, he's in fact the sweetest person.

Channelled song for Eunseok:

★ Sungchan: Beauty and the Beast

Tarot cards: seven of wands, five of cups, and nine of swords

Sungchan has a lot of emotional baggage. By a lot, I mean many things he needs to learn and heal from. Once he learns to embrace his sensitive side and acknowledges they are his strengths and not weaknesses, he might be the most emotionally intelligent among the other members.

In love (seven of wands), it can represent someone who fights for what they wants and doesn't give up easily. This reminds me of when Beast and Gaston had a fight. Similarly, this also shows Sungchan can be competitive and fight for what he wants until he gets it.

Adding to this, Sungchan not only has emotional baggage, but he also has difficulty letting go of past relationships (five of cups). He also overthinks situations or struggles with trusting others (nine of swords). This side of him is again, something he needs to work on. It is also likely that he dwells a lot and ruminates the past. In a relationship or romantic aspect of his life, if he continues to dwell on the past, it will likely stop him from finding "true love" Similarly, Beast is also like this.

Another reason why I think Sungchan fits the Beauty and the Beast love trope is because Sungchan might crave a love worth fighting for, someone who can offer him the security and understanding he needs to heal and fully open his heart. This is very much like Beauty and the Beast. Belle has always been there to nurture the Beast. It is likely that Sungchan also craves or needs someone to nurture parts of him that lack care or tending. Once he feels secure and loved, his protective and resilient nature can translate into unwavering devotion and a willingness to fight for the relationship.

Channelled song for Sungchan:

★ Wonbin: It was right in front of you all along!

Tarot cards: temperance, the high priestess, ace of pentacles

Wonbin's romance trope is one where they both won't know they're fit for each other. But they've been in each other's life all along until one day they realise there is more than friendship to the relationship.

Wonbin also sounds like a romantic dreamer (thanks to the High Priestess card). He's probably looking for someone super interesting and smart, someone who shares his ideas about what love should be. But hold on, because Temperance is also in the mix. This means he won't jump into just any relationship. He'll take his time, think things through (like the High Priestess again!), and wait for a love that feels balanced and perfect, just like him.

He's also the type to observe, see, and wait. He calculates the risk of being with the person he likes until he realises "What's the wait for?" and confesses his feelings when he feels sure of the person. However, he still has tendencies to look for the "perfect person". Hence, the time he spent waiting, observing, and seeing could be a waste of time. Deep down what Wonbin truly wants is comfort, emotional connection, and a good banter.

Channelled song for Wonbin:

★ Seunghan: Fake Dating

Tarot cards: the magician, the high priestess, and four of pentacles reversed

Seunghan is a charmer and he knows how to entice a person. I bet you he knows how to sweep a person off their feet. He is that charming.

Seunghan is charming, confident, and knows how to win someone over (the magician). He is also someone who is selective and has high standards for a partner (the high priestess). Hence, I think the trope fake dating suits him well because he would not mind taking on a role to be someone's boyfriend for a night. This is because he is someone who desires freedom and experiences within the relationship (four of pentacles rx).

In many ways, fake dating will give him the freedom and experience to experience love and he doesn't have to commit yet. Plus, fake dating sounds like a one-in-a-lifetime fun experience. But, this trope is risky. Seunghan might be the one who suggested the fake dating idea and ends up falling in love first.

Seunghan might be naturally charming and resourceful (The Magician). He might know how to make someone feel special and use his creativity to impress them. However, The High Priestess' influence suggests there's more to him than meets the eye. He might crave a deeper emotional connection and be selective when choosing a partner.

Channelled song for Seunghan:

★ Sohee: Friends-to-lovers

Tarot cards: king of wands, ace of wands reversed, and ace of swords reversed

Sohee might exude confidence and leadership qualities (King of Wands) in most aspects of his life. He might be decisive and take charge in professional or group settings. However, the reversed Ace of Wands and Swords suggest a hidden side when it comes to love. Perhaps Sohee struggles to express his romantic feelings or initiate connections. He might have a strong desire for love (upright King of Wands) but be held back by self-doubt or a fear of rejection (reversed Aces).

Despite these challenges, the King of Wands' influence suggests a strong potential for passion within Sohee. He might just need someone who can help him ignite that spark and create a safe space for him to express his true feelings. Perhaps a patient and understanding partner can draw him out of his shell and encourage him to take a chance on love.

Sohee seems like the kind of person who takes love slowly. He might be shy about opening up and sharing his true feelings. That's why a friends-to-lovers situation might be perfect for him. He needs someone he can trust completely, someone who already knows him well. Feeling comfortable and safe is key for Sohee to open up his heart.

Channelled song for Sohee:

★ Anton: Strangers-to-lovers

Tarot cards: nine of swords reversed, five of wands, and four of pentacles

Anton might need a little extra time to get over past worries, but once he clicks with someone, he's a rock-solid partner. Honest communication seems important to him, and he might crave a relationship that's both secure and playfully competitive.

The cards tell us a few things about what Anton looks for in love. The Four of Pentacles hints at a desire for stability and security. He might be looking for someone to build a future with, someone who brings him peace and comfort (thanks to the reversed Nine of Swords). But wait, there's more! The Five of Wands suggests he also enjoys a little friendly competition. Maybe playful arguments or teasing become his way of connecting and bonding with his partner.

I go back and forth between Anton's romance trope as friends-to-lovers and strangers-to-lovers. Although the explanation above fits friends-to-lovers more, I think strangers-to-lovers would allow Anton to grow in the relationship and learn about his partner while he learns about himself. Anton is also someone who likes a good challenge, hence, being with someone new is not a bad idea for him. However, this someone new could be a friend of a friend. So, it's not really a complete stranger, but someone new that he can learn from and grow together.

Channelled song for Anton:

This was a requested reading from user @moomoobug

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 7 months

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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ THIS CHAPTER SO LONG 😭

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @adorefavv @depresssedcowboy

Chapter summary ೃ⁀➷ Aaron’s hesitation sparks suspicion in Miles as he begins to ponder about your real identity. You struggle with the new changes, and you finally meet the new being that’s become a tenant to your body.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Aaron knew you.

Not as Antonne, even. But as [Y/n].

Little, nine-year-old [Y/n].

“You’re to watch over them,” He recalls Mr. Fisk’s words. “Especially the girl— how useful she might be, if she’s anything like her father, that is.“

Aaron grimaces behind his mask, quite on edge with the request to investigate a little girl. As his gauntlet unfolds, Aaron reached out a single hand for the manila folder laid before him, flipping a page. There, he spots the image of a little you, dressed in a mauve dress paired along with a bored expression atop your downcast eyes. You were sitting by yourself in your classroom, your chin resting atop your tiny hand.

That was the first time he caught a glimpse of your name.

[Y/n].

“What if she’s more like her mother, Sir?” He halfheartedly asks, unsure if Fisk would take it as a joke. Wilson drew a long breath from his half-burnt cigar, leaning back into his chair with a lopsided grin.

“Even better.”

And then, he remembers. Remembers the day you first entered his life.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Before you, there was your mother. The woman Rio praised, idolized, adored. He’s watched her gleam too many times at the sight of her simply gliding across the silver screen. Something about her tantalizing allure, or something like that. Aaron, being the guard he was, only witnessed this interaction from afar. He figured to get her autograph right after the mission when he’s maskless and unsuspicious.

Fisk’s wife, Vanessa, gestured the woman to sit next to her. Your mother gracefully accepts the invitation, and upon moving away, it was only then you popped out of nowhere— your mother’s skirt being the curtain that unveiled you.

“You must be [Y/n]!” Vanessa cooed. “My, aren’t you a pretty little girl? Aren’t I right, Richard?”

And there marked your first meeting with the boy. Wilson Fisk’s only son— Richard Fisk. A pale brunet with large black eyes that seemed to follow your every move. The boy inched a little too close when your mother commanded you to sit next to him.

“Your hair is so.. Weird.” Richard piqued as he reached out a clammy hand to pull at one of your strands. “Is it real?—“

One glare from you alone made him retract his approach.

Oh. You weren’t as frail as he first thought.

“Richard, don’t go touching people’s hair. I taught you better than that.” Vanessa scolded of the boy. He sheepishly nodded, easing away from your presence.

It was mostly Wilson’s idea to get Richard close to you under the guise of a playmate— in hopes the two of you would one day grow up to be romantically involved. Though your mother and Vanessa’s meeting initiated the beginning of a close friendship, it only began a bloody game of hot and cold between you and Richard.

But Aaron eventually came to the conclusion that the reason you never spoke to Richard wasn’t because of shyness, rather, like the kind of girl who rightfully prided herself in her surname, you felt superior over this little boy.

And the thing is about children— they weren’t born to hate. They were raised to specifically act that way, and he learned to understand your complexities after working for your father every now and then, and he came to an eventual realization that you weren’t anything all too heartless like your parents.

“Aren’t you thirsty?”

That was the first time you’d spoken to him. It was a hot summer July day, and Aaron had been momentarily left alone by the Fisks to fetch for something. In the midst of the garden, Aaron was stationed by the pavilion to look after you. He’d been a sweating mess in his mask and suit, and your eleven-year-old self seemed to notice it quickly.

“Here,” You handed him a glass of orange juice. “This can freshen you up.”

And even after your offer, he stares vacantly at the gleaming cup, somewhat lost in the heat to acknowledge it. Seeing his hesitation, you grumbled and held his hand up to stuff the glass between his fingers. “I’m not an otherworldly being. You can talk to me normally, you know.”

And in that tone was a desperation for casualty.

“Thank you.” Was his only reply.

And after then, little you started fostering this sort of strange fascination towards him.

“Mr. Prowler!”

Tiny little legs, swift steps. You often greeted him that way, along with a large wave your mother always scolded you for. You endowed a strange sort of liking towards him, even when he was only silent in your presence. It was safe to say you were probably only visiting the Fisks’ just to see him. Aaron never knew the reason why you’d grown to like him so much, but he always assumed it was because of curiosity.

You liked to endlessly babble beside him, talking about the randomest of things. Something about school, or a book you’ve read, or how you wanted to grow up and run the hotel. You were tiny, then. Like a little mouse running around, chasing after him. In a way, you reminded him of Miles. So talkative. So curious about many things.

Every after mission, Aaron accompanied you everywhere, even behind a mask. And strangely, you never really requested him to take it off despite your stubbornness. The more he got involved into your family’s household, the more he came to learn about your personality.

You were a lively kid— talkative, playful, and wild like hell. You were a walking disaster too. Montrell and Antonne often had to watch out for your shenanigans, as you were too unpredictable for anyone to handle.

You liked sneaking into the kitchen before midnight just to steal some sweets, tossing your siblings’ stuff into the private pool, and stealing your mother’s makeup while lying that you didn’t. You were a kid. A little girl, a giggly one at that.

Until you weren’t.

ＲＥＪＥＣＴＥＤ.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

ＲＥＪＥＣＴＥＤ.

"None of them want to accept the damn drive.” Miles mumbled, shoving himself away from the table out of frustration. “Why the hell are they so scared? This will rip apart the election once this gets out. The media would be a shitshow with these!” He places his hands over his face, his icy touch meeting the warmth of his freckled cheeks.

For the last few hours, Miles had taken the day off and had instead been deliberately emailing various networks regarding the obscenities and anti-human practices they’ve found in the warehouse— only to find that each and every network’s rejected the information. Miles had gone as far as to personally email bloggers, journalists, even conspiracy theorists just for the sake of publicizing their crimes, only to meet the same rejection from everyone else he’s ever reached out to.

Behind him was his ever-so-weary Uncle Aaron restlessly pacing back and forth about the room while cleaning the gauntlet with a damp rag. “So long as the oligarchs remain in charge, no one will be brave enough to publish those, Miles.” He mumbles, a sort of dread lingering inside him.

“Ion get it,” Miles sighs. “At least one outlet talking about the damn issue can literally change the world!”

“Fear is a catalyst for many of us.” Aaron sets the gauntlet aside. “The rich control the systems, and they can either starve us or feed us. Hell, they can even kill us. The media outlets are run by people— people with families to feed, to protect. Not many of us can afford to look out for others when we can’t even look out for ourselves.”

“But that’s exactly the reason why nobody ain’t gonna be free.” The boy contends. “All of us are scared— and the rich will continue to take advantage of that until we all learn to stand our ground. If we don’t, they’re going to continue playing God, deciding who lives and who won’t, and until then it’s only up to us.”

“We can’t be heroes to everyone, Miles.”

He nods. “I know,” With a hand over the mouse, he shifts. “We can only be heroes if it benefits the government, but the moment we recognize them as the villains, we’re vigilantes.. But then again, as they say.

No answer will be heard to the question no one asks.”

Aaron gained a sort of pride hearing those words from his nephew, but it didn’t change the fact that Miles was rapidly gaining a thorough understanding of things he shouldn’t actually be involved in at his delicate age of fifteen. He was a child, and no matter how great his mind was, he should’ve been using it on acing science fair projects or starting witty banter with his friends— not to gain justice for his father’s death.

Aaron initially never wanted Miles to enter the world he’s grown absolutely sick of. He wanted to let Miles live in a world away from the mercenary act he had to keep up for the sake of money, but even then, Miles was sucked into it like a black hole.

And he remembers you.

How everything ruined you.

‘Is your sister also a piece of shit like you?’

The way he spoke stemmed from a fit of anger.

What the hell were you doing with Miles? What exactly brought you to interact with his only nephew?

He wanted to know just how much of a monster you’ve become after he left. When Antonne spoke about you being more of a pacifist, he wanted to believe in those words. He wanted to believe you grew up to be a kinder, healthier version of yourself despite the conditions of your family— and when he saw you again in those photos with Miles, looking like every other teenager, he felt… Relieved.

Along with it came a sense of guilt, bearing a sort of news he couldn’t stomach. It sprouted like a vine in his throat, words crawling up his esophagus as he chokes out.

“Your girlfriend, Miles. How’s she been?”

And the tension eases. Miles is suddenly lighter at the mention of you. “It’s our first date tomorrow,” He pridefully bragged. “Trick or treating. She’s gonna be the bubonic plague.”

“.. What?”

“It’s an inside joke.” He grins, leaning back into the chair at the thought of you. “I’m gonna be a plague doctor, and she’s gonna a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague.”

“What the hell..?” Aaron shook his head in confusion. “Kids these days got too much shit going on in y’all’s heads.”

Miles mulls the headset off his ears. “She’s never done trick-or-treating— I saw it in her eyes, her mama prolly kept talkin’ shit ‘bout the holiday like how my mama talks shit ‘bout Tiya Rosa’s tamales. Like, poison inside the damn food or sum.”

“Yeah, well, that woman’s always..” Always, restricted her daughter.

“Always what?”

“.. Your Tiya Rosa’s tamales got too much spice all the damn time.”

“.. Tiya Rosa, huh?”

And in the height of his emotions, Aaron’s words sparked suspicion in Miles.

The boy then fidgets with the hem of his sleeve, a habit he probably learnt from you. He takes the second to stand up, brushing his dampened hands down the polyester of his jogging pants. “Now, I didn’t skip school just to help you email the press or to hear you ask about [Y/n] like she’s some project I’m working on. I skipped school because you mentioned something about her, and I wanted to know what you meant by her being connected to the Primos.”

Aaron took a sharp, deep breath. “.. Right, that.”

“Do you know her?”

“Not anymore.”

“Wha— How does that even work?”

Aaron gestured Miles to sit next to him, straightening his back with his head held low. The anxiety that lingered in his throat had his foot tapping against the wooden planks. Had him biting the inner of his cheek.

“Before we get to it, can you first tell me how the first two of you met?” Aaron starts. “Full detail. Not a single thing missed. From there, go on about how the two of you happened.”

And it takes Miles back to that rainy night again.

“.. Three months ago, during the Aureum collapse anniversary, one of my friends sent me a link to a secret forum.”

Miles eased his shoulders, laying his head above the cushion as he stared at the ceiling. “There was this group of people, consisted of close relatives of the victims— sisters, wives, husbands— who were planning on vandalizing a mural at the hotel before the day of the annual mourning. I joined the plan, but when we got there, we barely began the work but we were already being apprehended.”

And in vivid remembrance, Miles pictures the entire memory recreating itself from dust right in front of him. He remembers the loud patters of the rain, the loud screams and curses of his fellow vandals. When another officer attempts to near him, he grabs the nearest paint bottle and sprays it directly into his eyes— running off into the distance with heavy steps.

“I got away. As much as I wanted to save everyone, I couldn’t fight all the security there, so I hid somewhere in the garden.”

Gripping the bottle, Miles headed straight into the pastures of the greeneries and flowers, losing himself in the tall maze. He could still hear the angered officers’ yells, warning him to return. With jagged breaths, he makes the choice to take every sharp turn in an attempt to thwart their chase— eventually running into a dead end.

“I really thought I was gonna get arrested that night.”

With a broken sigh, he crouches behind one of the hedges, placing a hand over his mouth to cover his loud heaving.

“.. They never came, though. And I got lost in the damn thing.”

With a blur over his vision, Miles pulls a hand over his brows, coughing at the icy ache that knocked up his lungs. For a while, he grips the red can harder just to prepare himself for any threat— when he suddenly hears the sound of heavy footsteps thundering across the maze. He whips his head, searching for where it all came from.

“But then she got to me.”

And the haze of his exhaustion, a swift figure dressed in black takes him by the hand, running off into the distance. Lost in confusion, Miles lifts the can to attack but his instinct tells him not to, simply running along with the figure. “Are you stupid?” They breathily asked. “You could’ve went anywhere else. You’re going to get yourself arrested!”

At that time, Miles couldn’t tell if you were a frequenter of the hotel or a person with just some really good sense of direction, but you did manage to easily take him out the maze after three wrong turns. With shifting looks, you checked everywhere except his disposition, dragging him like a toy to privacy— which was a smoking area with closed off windows.

“.. Who the fuck are you?” He managed to finally ask after catching up with his breath.

“That’s some language considering I saved your ass.”

“I didn’t need your help.”

“Alright,” You snicker. “Go out and face them yourself, then.” You pointed at the door. “Since you’re so brave and so smart.”

Miles was irked by your sarcastic, upbeat tone. But even then, when he saw your hand shivering, he couldn’t help but ease down his words. “… Don’t go too close to the door, they’ll see you.” As he brought up his hand to touch your shoulder, you turned around and looked at him with wide eyes.

“.. When I saw her, I thought to myself, oh fuck, I am so doomed.”

And how doomed he was. You thought Miles couldn’t see you crying then, but he was so lost with every detail of your face that it felt like he’d known you his whole life.

If only he knew the roles assigned to the both of you in this world.

Miles was no stranger to the world. He struggled to make do along with his mother, and he was a boy of no significant background. He was smart, for sure, and that aided him in his façade as the second Prowler.

He thought you’d be more similar, despite this sort of oddness you endowed. You seemed sheltered, but smart enough to question the cage that harbored you.

The two of you were faced with harsh realities stemming from two sides of a system that oppressed you both. Miles never knew about it: your wealth, but the outcomes of how the system ruined the both of you were so similar. It fooled him into thinking you were just like him.

“But Miles,” Aaron shifts closer. “Did she ask anything about our family?”

Miles stared in confusion. “For what?”

“Anything— about your father, your mother, me. Where you live, what we do. Miles, did you tell her that you’re the Prowler?”

“No! I wouldn’t tell her a damn thing, she could get hurt.” He lied, only thoroughly thinking about the idea as soon as Aaron mentioned it. “But why are you asking me this?”

“.. How far can an excuse go, Miles?.. Tell me, how far are you willing to defend your ideals? Would you pay the price to defend what you’re fighting for?”

“.. I’m willing to pay any price,” Just as Aaron’s about to concede, Miles adds. “For the sake of creating a world where she can paint skies and sunsets in cafes and not run businesses at the age of sixteen.”

“Alright,” Aaron huffs. “Let me tell you something about your girlfriend, Miles.”

Screech.

You grimaced at the sound of the fork scraping against your plate, taking a while to rest the side of your hand awkwardly beside the tableware. You take the moment to flit your eyes open, finally able to take your first look at your family meal— with Montrell and your father discussing heartily about his adventures in London, while you, Antonne, and Malachi were left to bask in the conversation in silence.

You felt heavy. Everywhere. Like there was this weight you were shouldering that you couldn’t fathom.

It had your finger wringing against the string of your pearl necklace, had your damp palm digging into the champagne silk of your dress. You didn’t want to be here— not after all that’s happened. Not after Montrell’s taken your job, and definitely not after you’ve disappointed your father.

You felt like choking on your steak, but gruesomely starving at the same time.

“Which brings me to the topic, [Y/n], how have you been?”

Oh, God, you fucking HATED that question.

For a moment, you finally look at Montrell, now you’re able to scrutinize how much he’s changed in the last few years you’ve spent apart. Broad-shouldered, charming— princely, as most would claim. A sort of doe-like endowment in his eyes, unlike yours and Antonne’s, which were unreasonably fiery in the way you’d both stare.

“I’ve been alright,” You began. “Haven’t been much busy these days, just working on school projects and all of those things.” You could sense your father’s growing indifference to your statement, bearing the knowledge that you’ve been running the hotel for almost half a decade. Montrell similarly notices the family’s shared looks of restlessness and tension, but is unable to understand why the air’s transitioned into something so dim.

“I heard you’re performing tango next week for the fundraiser.“ He tries to strike up a brighter topic, to which you blandly smile and nod. “Yes. I’ve been.. Practicing a lot. Since it’s to fund Senator Barlowe’s project, I can’t leave room for any mistakes.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Montrell smiled. “I bet you’ll do great. Good luck.”

Internally, you admitted that optimism only sounded believable if it came from Miles’ mouth.

“Thank you.” You take a sip off of your water. “I might as well have to say the same thing to you, with all your upcoming responsibilities.”

Your father angrily sets his utensils down with a small bam. “[Y/n].” He calls out like a warning. You lift the brim off your lips, marking the glass with your lipstick. “What? I’m being polite.” You watch as he scowled at your reply. “… Has no one told him yet?”

“Told me what?” Montrell piqued, bringing a spoon up to his mouth but never feeding on the meal.

Immediately, the bomb slips your tongue with a boom despite the way Antonne cleared his throat.

“You’re going to be running the hotel.”

“[Y/n]!”

“What?” You answered with a heightened voice, but it wasn’t loud enough to be considered a yell. “With how much you were rushing the process, I thought you’d have told him by now.”

“It’s an unofficial decision that we haven’t discussed with the staff yet. Since Antonne’s too busy with other matters in regards to college and other things, we were going to discuss if you could run the hotel in his place.”

Hearing this only urged the confusion to tangle even more.

“Why can’t [Y/n] run the hotel?”

You almost choke on your food.

“[Y/n]’s also considerably intelligent. It’d be nice for her to practice running a business even if it’s just upkeep. She should at least be familiar with the family businesses before she goes overseas to study.”

The idea seemed plausible— had it been an idea that hasn’t happened before.

“.. Are you unable to do it yourself, Mon?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I simply think that since my little sister’s also a smart girl, it’d be only fair for her to be given a chance.”

Oh. Montrell cared.

Even in the sort of way that was subtle. It wasn’t like Antonne’s— whose ‘care’ was a rarity to be paraded.

You hated that word. Smart. The term seemed so shallow, even if it was meant to be a compliment. You never saw yourself as smart, or naturally gifted. You studied, a lot, but you never took in the meaning of so many things. You liked to think you were talented in memorization, but even after any exam or challenge, you were often quick to drop the lessons that came along with it.

You were too burdened with academic validation that your grades mattered to you more than the meaning of any lesson.

Were you even learning anymore?

You didn’t know.

Your father placed a hand over his chin, fiddling with the hairs of his beard. “Your sister.. Is too young.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“As I said.”

“You made Antonne run the hotel when he was fifteen!”

“That’s because Antonne’s the heir.”

“Well, who else is going to run the hotel? Malachi?” Your sarcasm was slipping through your teeth so explicitly that you were unable to hide your bitterness. “I mean he is ten-years-old, and dad doesn’t seem all mindful about wagering minors.”

Your little brother shifts uncomfortably. He averts everyone else’s gaze, and you only then admit that you’ve crossed the line mentioning little Malachi.

“[Y/n], you’re being immature.” Antonne finally spoke, with a furrowed brow scribbled across his poor attempt of a calm expression.

Picking up a knife, you begin to saw through your steak. “To be fair, Antonne, there are many things sixteen-year-old me can’t do. Like being mature,” As you cut a piece, you snicker. “Or running a hotel.”

“Can you just— stop it?” Antonne huffs. “You’re being unreasonably upset. As father says, you’re too young. If you’ve already forgotten, my age was the reason why many lives were lost.”

“Sure, and your current age is the reason why you’ve accepted responsibility over those deaths.”

“STOP IT!”

The table shakes upon the bellow of your father’s voice. And in the fire of his anger, you stood without another word, and the scrape of your chair against the floor marked the beginning of your defiance. As you pulled the napkin off your lap, you folded the damn thing and placed it beside the plate.

With the click of your heels, you head for the exit when you suddenly hear your father mumble.

“Tsk. So emotional.”

And this struck something inside you. For a moment, you pause, and a bold voice echoed inside your mind.

And it only made you angrier. Shooting a glare at him, you announced.

“I’m your fucking daughter, not your wife, not your maid— your fucking daughter. and all I ever did my whole life was slave and respect you and submit to your every word. And all I get is you fucking glaring at me like that! Why are you fucking looking at me like that when I’ve done everything to appease you?

All I wanted was an ‘I’m proud of you, [Y/n]’ or a ‘You’re doing great, [Y/n]’, ‘You deserve a break because you’re overworking yourself, [Y/n]’— NO! I can’t rest, I can’t live like I’m sixteen because you put all of us up on a pedestal because you can’t be a father. And you,” You pointed at Antonne.

“You’re such a fucking waste, you’re such a fucking waste of talent, of heart, and mind. What could’ve been a lesson for you became a lesson for me. If you could’ve just said ‘I’m sorry’, if you could’ve just fucking accepted and– just take responsibility and just give respect to the lives that were— but you didn’t, BECAUSE NONE OF US CAN TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANYTHING!”

A still silence.

And you realized, that everything all happened in your mind.

With the last of your dignity, you choked back your words and left. In the back of your mind, something whispered.

「You got a message from Miles♡」

You nearly unhinge the door from a slam. You trudge over to the vanity, gripping over the corners of the table in anger.

It’s unfair.

It was so unfair for you to lose everything you’ve worked so hard for in a span of a week. All of what you prided yourself in: Being better than Antonne, having control over the hotel, being your father’s most trusted aide, and having a sense of control over your own future— it all vanished in a week.

You felt conned. Betrayed. Like you’ve wasted so much of your youth for an unattainable ideal.

You wanted to shatter everything within the room. Wreck all of what’s left of everything. Maybe even burn down the hotel.

ＷＨＹＮＯＴ？

The voice rang.

Your eyes flit open, looking into the mirror in disbelief, only to find a dark being stare right back at you. Grimy, slimy—

ＤＯＮ’ＴＢＥＲＵＤＥ.

A shrill scream exits your lips as you stumble back, falling on your behind as you struggled to get away. You looked at your hands, praying they’d remain as they were— clean, prim, and groomed. It felt like there were bugs crawling up your back. Suddenly, a dark matter carried you back to the vanity, forcing you to look at the creature that was supposed to be your reflection.

It smiled with its sharp teeth.

“Don’t be scared.”

“You’re as commanding as my father, fuck damn it.” You squirmed, quivering in a sort of unadulterated fear you couldn’t understand. “I’m not your father, [Y/n]. Though I don’t think that lowly creature that sat across you in that dining table’s anything deserving of that title.” It spoke in a low, gravel-like voice. “He’s hurt you, little girl. But you hurt yourself the most.”

You ease a little, the same sort of shamelessness you always endowed now kicking back into your senses.

“… You know nothing about me.”

“I know everything about you. I am within the confines of your mind.” A slimy tentacle of black tar creeps out from your back, pulling you closer to the mirror. It eventually creeps up on your face, squeezing your cheeks. “You’re a riot of a girl, but you have your weaknesses. You’re a great planner, but not a great executor. You tend to underestimate the capabilities of those around you because you look up to yourself too much— but at the same time, there is no one within this world who hates you more than you do.

I can fix those broken parts of you. I can help you in ways you’ll forever be grateful for.”

In the middle of his long speech, you frowned. “... Why is your way of talking so refined? I thought you were an alien being, how the hell do you speak English?”

“Would you rather I be sarcastic or truthful?”

“Anything.”

“I’m not Barbie, child.”

You grimaced at the horrible joke. “Truthful, of course.”

“I take hold of your subconscious, so we share the same memories, the same talents, the same thoughts. I know all about the first time you scraped your knee, how you like doing your hair, how you’ve lived, and the first time you met that boy,” It grinned. “Miles Morales.”

“… What of him?”

“It is of my knowledge that he’s your greatest weakness, yes?”

“Would you consider liking a boy a weakness?”

“For someone like you?” You hear it snicker. “Largely.”

It was like you were being tossed from one scrutinizing dinner to another. You pinched the bridge of your nose, turning your head to avoid staring at this questionable creature. Suddenly, one of the tentacles grab your phone, tossing it over to you.

“It doesn’t mean I’m not supportive of your little romance.”

You scrolled through the screen. “It doesn’t matter if you support my romance or not, I decide for myself.”

Miles♡ || Three minutes ago

Hey I’m at spirit halloween rn

do you wanna uh

buy halloween costumes for tomorrow?

“You’re deciding for two now, [Y/n].” The being growled. “Eating for two, acting for two.”

You clicked your tongue and hushed the damn thing. “If someone were to overhear us, they’re going to think I’m pregnant.” You stand up, heading over to unveil one of your windows. You look out into the scarlet afternoon, unlatching the locks as you slid the glass open. The cold wind blew at you like a harsh greeting, making you curse. “.. Fuck, can you morph into like a hoodie or something? I can’t go out dressed like this.”

“I’m an alien being, mademoiselle, not your personal tailor.”

“You presented yourself like you’re the best thing to ever happen in my life, but you can’t even morph into a goddamn jacket?”

“I am— how dare you!”

“.. Guess you got that narcissism from me too, huh?”

“[Y/n]?”

You slammed your window shut upon hearing the voice. A bated sigh ran past your parted lips, your nails marking a scratch over the sill as you took your hands away from the window.

“Montrell.” You greeted him. “… What brings you here?”

Your brother leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed before his chest, head nearly grazing the top rail. “.. Were you talking to someone?”

You take a few steps away from the window. “I was talking to myself. I’m quite imaginative, you see. Sometimes delusion is the solution.”

“I—“ He shook his head in confusion, stifling a short laugh before stepping right inside. “That’s.. Good for you, [Y/n]. But.. Were you just about to jump out the window?”

Your mouth hung open. “Me? Jump out the window? Psh,” You nervously giggled. “I-I was just checking how cold it was outside because I was contemplating on.. Going outside.” You looked at the window and shut the curtains. “Indeed, it’s very cold so I can’t do that.”

You’re a horrible liar.

Shut the fuck up.

The door clicks behind Montrell as he approaches you, gaze lingering on the interior of your room. The place was dim, yet organized in a way. You had kept a lot of your plushies despite the childlike air it kept— those were likely the last toys you’ve ever considered keeping.

“You still kept Miss Lisbon.” He plucked one of the plushies out from the pile, particularly a pink fluffy rabbit with a giant lace ribbon placed on one of its ears. He brings it closer to his nose, earning a whiff of its strawberry-scented perfume, a sign that you’ve been taking care of her rather well. “I got you this when you were eight.”

“Miss Lisbon’s my best friend.” You reach for the fluffy toy, easing it out of his grasps. “I can’t possibly let her go, not when she knows about every war crime I’ve committed.”

“Miss Lisbon’s a great listener, which was why I gave her to you.”

The silence that followed made you uneasy. You wanted to talk and fill in the room with nonsensical talk of whatever, but you could tell even Montrell’s struggling to speak. When you do managed to finally part your lips, the both of you coincidentally began at the same time, which led to him excusing himself so you can speak first— to which you ushered him to speak first, and so on and so forth.

But it was after that awkward moment that you’ve grown quite comfortable with his presence.

“… [Y/n], I’m not going to force you to open up about.. Whatever happened in the dining room.” Montrell starts. “I know I haven’t been here for a long, long time, and it’ll only make you uneasy if I forced details out of you. I came here to check on you, and solely for that reason alone. Since we’re family, I just wanted to let you know that if you need someone– anyone– to talk to, I’m right here.”

You stood there, grasping Miss Lisbon with a frown.

Family. Really, to say it’s because you’re family that he’s willing to do such things— it seemed a little too naïve. After all, you were disappointed by the very people who were supposed to love and care for you since the very beginning.

With a soft touch, Montrell takes the hands you were holding Miss Lisbon with, placing the plushie over his face.

“Just think of me as Miss Lisbon.”

You squeeze the toy a little.

“Let me listen to your every war crime.”

When you lower your hands, you see your older brother, smiling at you sweetly. He was like a softer version of your father. A little more smiley, with dimples marked into the corner of his every smile. When your phone buzzes again, a request slips out your mouth.

“Can you drive me somewhere?”

168 notes · View notes

writingforstraykids · 2 months

Text

I owe you a kiss - Pt.8

Pairing: Minchan x femReader (mention of Changlix)

Word Count: 3478

Summary: Three weeks later, you're still feeling left out. Your therapist suggests communicating your worries to your husbands, but this doesn't go as planned.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, therapy, verbal fight, anxious!chan, min gets defensive

A/N: After part seven I thought I'd be done with one part more tops...well. Once more, there'll be another chapter after this. Ideas/wishes are always welcome, I'll see what I can include🤭🖤

PART SEVEN | PART NINE

Three weeks later

“And you still don't want your husbands there for the appointments?” your therapist asks kindly. She has been for weeks now.

“No,” you shake your head firmly.

“May I ask why?” she asks patiently.

“Minho has a lot to deal with on his own because he remembers…also, he hates hospitals,” you start and nervously fidget with your hands. “Chan is…different.”

“Different, how?” she responds with another question.

“Distant is the wrong expression by now. He's trying to show me how much he loves me, but I can tell when he gets overwhelmed. He's still figuring things out, finding his place back home,” you tell, and she nods along, taking some notes. “I just…It's not all bad. He gets enough sleep now, makes sure to eat enough, and takes care of himself. It's just so different from what I remember.”

“And Minho? Is he getting the help he needs?” she asks.

“Yes, he sees his therapist every two weeks. Weekly, if it's really bad, she always manages to squeeze him in,” you tell her. “He tries to hide it, but he still has nightmares. He's able to drive again if he has to, but he gets anxious easily.”

“And where does that leave you?” she asks patiently, nodding at the wooden board between the two of you. There's a figure for Chan and another for Minho, standing close next to each other. Behind them are several smaller figures in darker colors, symbolizing their fears and struggles. And there's you. Yours is smaller than theirs, standing further away as if you're facing them.

“Alone,” you say, swallowing hard as you notice the distance between the figures. You hadn't thought much about it putting them there but they're painting a clear picture.

“Are you?” she asks gently.

“Sometimes,” you nod. “I don't feel like it when I'm alone with one of them. But if it's all three of us…I feel like they don't need me,” you say and subconsciously fondle the tiny head of the figure behind you, symbolizing your negative thoughts.

“Do you want to change something?” she asks, picking up on it, and you set it between yours and the ones of your husbands. “Add anything?”

“I'm scared of losing them,” you say, and she nods at you, letting you choose another one. You put it next to the one you just moved.

“May I comment on something?” she asks, and you nod. “You put your husband's fears and struggles behind them. But yours are in front of you, forming a wall between you all. Why's that?”

“Uh…because they've communicated theirs openly with me and are working on them. I didn't tell them I'm scared to lose them or all of the other thoughts running through my head,” you admit.

“Mhm, so theirs are out in the open…why aren't yours?” she asks patiently, and you drop back into the comfortable chair.

“I don't know,” you confess. “Maybe because I feel like I can't put more on their shoulders.”

“What happened when Chan told you he's scared to push your boundaries? What happened when Minho panicked?” she asks, flashing you a kind smile.

“I comforted them, told them it's okay,” you say quietly.

“And what makes you fear they wouldn't do the same with you?” she asks, making you lower your head a little embarrassed.

“I don't know,” you admit quietly, feeling tears burn in your eyes. “I should tell them, right?”

She hums gently. “Communication seems to be very important to keep your relationship intact as you're all dealing with certain things.”

You're exhausted after your session, but you know you'd have to open up more about your own fears. You follow her outside into the waiting area to pay and frown as you see Chan talking to the receptionist. “Channie?” you ask, confused, and he looks up with a soft smile.

“Hey, baby girl,” he says sweetly. “I thought I'd come pick you up, I finished early today.”

“Oh,” you nod and open your handbag to get your wallet. Chan introduces himself to your therapist, a warm smile brightening up his gorgeous face. You take out your card, and Chan gently shoves it back inside.

“Already handled,” he tells you.

“What? Channie, I had to pay for the whole month today,” you protest.

“I know,” he nods and gently zips your handbag closed. “It's fine.”

“Thank you,” you nod gently, smiling as his hand finds yours.

“You got everything?” he asks, and after you nod, you two say goodbye. Once you're in the elevator, Chan pulls you into a strong hug and kisses your hair. “You look like you've been crying. Rough one?” he asks caringly.

“Yeah,” you nod, burying yourself in his warmth. “Thank you for picking me up, Channie angel.”

“Of course,” he tells you, rubbing your back.

As you lean into Chan's embrace, you're reminded of the session's revelations. His warmth is reassuring, and it pushes against the shadows of your own unspoken fears. You wonder how to begin sharing them with him, how to bridge the gap that your silence had unknowingly broadened. "I have a lot on my mind," you finally say, your voice muffled against his coat.

Chan's response is soft, filled with his sweet patience. "I'm here whenever you're ready to talk," he assures you, his hand steady on your back. The simplicity of his promise makes something within you ease slightly. Perhaps sharing your inner conflicts wouldn't be as horrible as you feared.

“Thank you,” you nod gently.

Chan leads you outside the building and to his car, your hand still in his. “I wanted to take you out for coffee, but would you rather go home? Whatever you say is fine, beautiful,” he assures you, and tears brim your eyes.

“Our favorite spot?” you ask gently.

Chan smiles sweetly, dimples showing. “Yeah,” he nods, giggling as your face lightens up.

“I would love to,” you tell him.

When you're back home, the atmosphere shifts as Minho greets you both from the sofa. His smile is shy, a reflection of his ongoing struggles, yet sincere. His eyes light up when he sees you. "Everything okay?" he asks, a subtle concern in his tone.

You nod, squeezing Chan's hand before letting go. "We need to talk, all of us," you say, surprising even yourself with the firmness in your voice. Minho's brow furrows slightly, but he nods, understanding the seriousness of your tone. He gestures towards the empty space next to him.

As you all sit down, the weight of the moment hangs heavily in the air. You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to be as open as possible. "I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed," you begin, your voice stronger than you feel. "Not by you two specifically, but by everything. The fears I've kept to myself are... they're getting heavy."

Chan reaches for your hand again, his touch a silent promise. Minho leans in, ready to listen, to help shoulder the burden you've carried alone for too long. You share your fears—of losing them, of not being enough, of the future that seems so uncertain sometimes. With each confession, the walls you built crumble.

“You know you can always come to us when those thoughts get too much to handle, yeah?” Chan asks gently.

“You're always there for us, honey, don't forget we're there for you too,” Minho adds agreeingly, gently rubbing your thigh.

“I know…A lot of it is in my head, but I miss you two,” you admit. “I can't even explain it, but I miss you so much, and I just wish everything would be normal again,” you say, tears brimming your eyes.

“Y/nnie,” Minho whispers and shakes his head, tears brimming his own eyes. “We have to work with what we got. A lot has happened, and we can't pretend it didn't. We have to find our new normal,” he tells you and timidly takes your hand.

“But we're always here, yeah? You're still our beautiful wife,” Chan chimes in.

“Well, then start acting like it!” you suddenly burst out, and seeing the hurt and confusion lacing their features you quickly get up. “Start acting like I'm your wife and not just your crush you hold hands with from time to time.”

“Seriously?” Minho asks dangerously low and Chan swallows, already fearing an outburst of both of you. “Tell me you're joking.”

“I'm not,” you snap at him. “Obviously, I'm not.”

“What the fuck do you need me to do then? What do I have to change, huh?” he snaps right back at you, getting up as well.

“Guys, please,” Chan tries gently, but you both ignore him.

“I don't know! But it feels like shit, I'm just some bystander to you two being all lovey-dovey all day!” you burst out.

“You’re pushing us away, you know that?” Minho retorts, his voice dripping with frustration and hurt. “You say you feel left out, but you've got walls so high, I need a damn ladder to get over them! Every time I try to initiate anything more than the crush behavior, as you put it, you back away.”

“I-” you start, but you can’t form any clear sentence in response. Minho is right, you’ve been denying him to go any further repeatedly.

Chan’s face grows pale, his eyes wide as he watches the confrontation unfold, seemingly frozen in place. “Can we... please not do this?” he stammers, his voice cracking under the strain. “This isn’t helping any of us.”

“You stay out of this!” Minho snaps, turning his glare briefly to Chan. The sharpness in Minho’s tone slices through the tension like a knife, leaving Chan blinking back tears, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to compose himself. “You don’t have to participate in this fight, but let me say my piece.”

“I’m trying to help!” Chan protests weakly, his voice trembling at the thought of you getting into a serious fight. Minho and you almost never fought, but if you did, it was always ugly, hurtful, and fucking loud. He didn’t like it before, but he could barely take it now, getting overwhelmed. “I don’t want to see us fall apart over misunderstandings and hurt feelings!”

“Well, it’s not just about feelings, Chan!” you shout, your voice breaking as the tears start to fall. “It’s about being seen and heard in this relationship. I feel invisible most days, like I’m just here to fill a space between the two of you! It’s like you don’t care about me.”

Minho blinks at you, and you can tell he needs a moment to process your words. Then he explodes. “If you really feel this way, if everything I do is that useless and meaningless…then I don't know what the fuck I'm still doing here!”

“Minho,” you whisper in shock, and Chan's tears fall freely now.

“Minho, please don’t say that,” Chan shakes his head, looking at him anxiously.

“No, seriously, fuck this. Fuck you,” he says harshly, and you know he's trying to cover his hurt with anger. “I don’t care about you, yeah sure,” he goes on. “I stayed by your bedside for weeks, praying that you’d wake up. I have done nothing but respect your boundaries, give you the time you need, and make sure you’re comfortable. What the fuck do you need me to do to think I actually give a fuck about you?!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, and it has both you and Chan flinching heavily. It’s rare he loses composure like this. He’s breathing heavily once he’s done, staring at you with fierce but such vulnerable eyes it makes you sick. He nods to himself as you don’t answer and grabs his phone from the sofa. “You don’t even know what you need. How the fuck am I supposed to, huh?”

“Min, please,” Chan whispers, sensing how hurt his husband truly is behind his mask of anger.

Minho’s expression softens for a moment, his anger faltering as he sees the tears streaming down his face. “I need a break,” he announces. “I’ll sleep in the guest room; I can’t do this right now.” He shakes his head and meets your eyes for a brief second. “Thanks for the talk,” he says sarcastically as you don’t respond to his prior statements.

You stand still for a second as he leaves before collecting your things as well.

“Y/nnie,” Chan tries weakly.

“Don’t,” you say sharply, shaking your head.

Chan flinches as the door to your bedroom slams closed and slumps onto the sofa, biting back a sob. He blindly reaches for his phone and blinks away tears to find his best friend’s number. Felix picks up after the second ring. “Lix, I-I know it’s late-,” he starts weakly.

“Where are you?” he asks worriedly at the distressed sound of his voice. “Do you need me to get you?” he asks, already getting up to search for his keys. His husband shoots him a questioning look, and Felix mouths Chan’s name. Changbin frowns worriedly, getting up as well and grabbing his keys.

“Can I stay at yours? Just for tonight?” he sniffles helplessly.

“Of course, Channie,” Felix says soothingly, slipping into his shoes. “You’re at home?” he asks carefully, leaving the house with Changbin right behind him.

“Yeah…home,” he says, choking on the word.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?” he asks gently, waiting for Chan’s quiet hum in response. “Deep breaths, Channie hyung, I’m sure whatever this is it can be fixed.”

“I’m not sure,” he answers shakily. “I’m really not.”

“They got into a fight?” he asks carefully, knowing how much it upset Chan.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “It was bad, Lix, really, really bad.”

“I’m sorry, Channie,” he says softly. Only a little later Chan meets them in front of the house and they pull him into a tight hug.

Changbin soothingly rubs his back. “Come on, Channie hyung, let's go,” he gently urges him to the car, handing him a tissue. “You can stay as long as you need to, okay?”

Chan nods and gets into the car, sinking into Felix's arms as the younger one sits down next to him. Felix gently rubs his shoulder and sighs. “It's gonna be okay, Channie.”

Three days later

Waking up, you notice Chan's side of the bed is still made, untouched from the night before. Minho is already downstairs, the clatter of dishes breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the house. As you walk into the kitchen, Minho’s posture stiffens, his usually warm eyes clouded with frustration.

“Good morning,” you say hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper, hoping to ease into the morning peacefully.

Minho nods without meeting your eyes, continuing his task. “Morning,” he replies shortly.

“I was thinking we could all go out today, maybe get some fresh air together,” you suggest, trying to find a way to get you three to deal with what happened.

Minho pauses, placing a plate down a little too hard. “Chan isn’t feeling well,” he says shortly, finally looking up at you with a mix of irritation and exhaustion in his expression.

“Is it his headache again?”

“Probably,” Minho mutters, turning back to the dishes. “Or maybe it’s just an excuse.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, your voice rising slightly in concern.

Minho sighs, a long, tired exhale. “It means maybe he’s just avoiding us. Avoiding this,” he gestures vaguely between the two of you.

“Minho, that’s not fair. You know how much he’s been struggling with everything,” you counter, feeling your heart rate pick up as the beginnings of anger mix with your worry.

“And what about us?” Minho snaps, his composure breaking. “When do we get to talk about how this is affecting us? You’re so focused on Chan. What about me? What about what I need?”

The accusation hits hard, opening a floodgate of emotions you’d both been tiptoeing around. “I’m trying to be here for both of you and fix this!” you exclaim, frustration overtaking your initial intent to keep the peace.

“Well, maybe try a little harder because I don’t feel it!” Minho’s voice escalates, his tone harsher than you’ve ever heard.

“Guys? What’s going on?” Chan’s weak voice comes from the doorway. His usual bright eyes are dim and shadowed with pain.

You both turn, startled, as Chan leans against the frame, looking between you two with a growing sense of dread. “I just needed some air, that’s all,” he murmurs, clearly caught off-guard by the newly thickened tension.

Minho’s expression softens slightly at the sight of Chan, but his frustration is far from appeased. “We’re just talking,” he says, though his voice suggests it was anything but a simple conversation.

Chan glances at you, his eyes searching for an ally. “It doesn’t sound like talking,” he comments softly, his tone hurt.

“You wouldn’t know; you’ve been avoiding us!” Minho’s outburst swiftly redirects the tension back to Chan.

“That’s not fair, Min,” Chan protests, his voice weak but filled with hurt. “I’m just trying not to make things worse.”

“By not talking? By hiding away?” Minho counters, his voice laced with bitterness.

“Enough!” you finally shout, unable to bear it anymore. “This isn’t helping anyone. We’re supposed to be in this together.” Both fall silent, the echo of your shout hanging between you. The air is thick with unsaid things, each of you caught in your own thoughts. “We need to fix this,” you say finally. “We can’t go on like this.”

Chan nods, looking exhausted. “I know,” he agrees quietly.

Minho doesn’t speak; his jaw clenches as he wrestles with his emotions, but his nod is agreement enough. You all sit down at the dinner table, facing each other.

Chan’s voice is gentle as he suggests, “Let’s each say something we feel without interruptions. Just listen to each other. Really listen.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I feel overlooked,” you begin, the words raw but necessary.

“I feel helpless,” Minho adds, his voice thick.

“I’m afraid of losing you both,” Chan admits, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.

The room grows silent as each confession hangs in the air. You all look at each other, the vulnerability shared creating a bridge that had been missing in the chaos of your misunderstandings.

Chan reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice steady despite the emotion. "I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn’t see how isolated you felt."

Minho exhales deeply, the tension easing from his shoulders as he acknowledges Chan's words. "And I... I've been so focused on not falling apart myself that I forgot to make sure we're all okay," he admits, his gaze shifting between you and Chan, a silent plea for forgiveness in his eyes.

It's your turn to respond, the atmosphere allowing for more open and heartfelt communication. "I've been afraid of burdening you both with my fears," you say, the admission freeing in its own way. "But I see now that keeping them to myself only creates more distance. I need to share more, not less," you continue, feeling a bit lighter with each word. "I need us to really be in this together."

Minho's hand finds yours, squeezing gently. "I've been scared," he admits, his voice cracking slightly. "Scared that pushing too hard or not enough could end up driving you away. But I see now that not communicating is just as damaging."

Chan, still visibly shaken but slowly regaining his composure, adds, "I thought I was protecting you both from my issues, but I was just isolating myself further. I promise to be more present, even when it's hard."

The conversation turns into a lengthy discussion in which each of you takes turns expressing thoughts and emotions that had been buried under daily routines and misunderstandings. It’s not just about voicing grievances; it’s about rediscovering each other's needs and reassessing how to support each other better.

Chan proposes a weekly check-in, a safe space where anything can be discussed without judgment, ensuring that no concern is too small or too trivial to be voiced. Minho suggests more one-on-one time with each of you to strengthen individual bonds that contribute to the health of the collective relationship.

In the following weeks, the impact of that conversation becomes evident. Slowly, the dynamics in your household start to shift. There's a newfound gentleness in your interactions, a deeper consideration for each other's mental spaces, and an active effort to engage without overwhelming one another.

Feeling less isolated, you find the courage to share your smaller daily fears and joys, discovering that these moments of sharing contribute significantly to your feeling of closeness with your husbands.

In a relationship as complex and intertwined as yours, challenges are inevitable.

PART SEVEN | PART NINE

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©��writingforstraykids 2024 -

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @kailee08 @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @lost-in-avoidance @dprkbyn @bear8585 @lee-knows-cats @mintchip17 @zdgx1 @zerefdragn33l @chansducky10 @melanctton @0325tiny @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @daisyjihannie @felixs-brownies78 @roriiror

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euphoniumpets · 1 year

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THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM | CHAPTER TWO

Prompt: ''As long as I can rememer, I've been protecting Alina, it's always Alina who I will protect,'' You told him, looking at Nikolai. ''But who will protect you?''

Warnings: Violence, blood and gore.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that.

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Starkov! Reader

A/N: Nikolai is coming to interact with Y/N in this chapter!!! and in the next chapter we will see how their friendship banter will evolve.

Taglist: @lyria-skyfall @khaleesihavilliard @shine101 @waddlingwanderer @clqudias @ducks118 @xceafh @goldenpoison @ssprayberrythings @parabatai-winchester

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - epilogue

‘’Alina, come on!’’

‘’I’m right behind you,’’

You huff, glancing to your right side when you see Alina struggling to keep up. It’s always been like that when you were children, somehow, you were always faster than Mal and Alina, always a step ahead of them. The two of you ran through the village, through the market as you tried not to bump into the crowd.

The two of you kept running as you both stopped in your tracks. You saw an alleyway and grabbed Alina’s wrist and dragged her along with you through. You panted hard and you stopped in your tracks when you saw a familiar figure running past.

You and Alina shared a confused expression when you recognized it was Mal and then the first Army running after him. The two of you followed after as you saw Mal fighting against them. You stepped forward and knocked one of the soldiers down on the ground before swinging your foot against one of the soldier’s stomachs. He stumbled down on the ground, and he was about to get up and beat you before Mal threw a punch.

However, another soldier appeared and knocked Mal down before he turned to you. You widened your eyes with fear when you saw that he was bigger than you. You raised your fists to fight against him. ''I could take you,'' You spoke but before you could charge at him Alina caught up with you. ‘’Hey!’’ Alina shouted and you turned around. You stepped aside as she used her powers to knock the soldier down. You ran toward Mal as you helped him from his feet.

‘’So much for nobody knowing who I am here,’’ Alina remarked, ‘’Very nice and subtle,’’ You commented as she approached you. ‘’Tell me about it,’’ Mal said as the two of you were about to walk to the gate behind you. Alina tried to open the locker with her powers. ‘’I knew you’d be traveling as a pair, let’s see your hands,’’

‘’Especially you, Starkov,’’ He said and pointed towards Alina. Alina raised her hands slightly as he approached closer. ‘’It’s time to turn you in,’’ You prepared yourself to fight again, and before you knew it the people of the village dragged their stuff to block the path in front of them, hiding the three of you. ‘’What is going on?’’ You murmured as you saw the sign they made.

Of course, you thought, smiling to yourself.

‘’This way,’’ A woman approached you and put her hood over Alina to cover her. She handed it to you as well before she headed to the gate, and you saw her using one of her Grisha powers. ‘’Adawesi, Sun summoner,’’ She spoke and unlocked the Locke.

‘’Thank you,’’ You responded as she sent you a small smile before the three of you headed out.

‘’Only two ships in a harbor town? Something’s not right,’’

Mal stated as the three of you approached the docks and hid behind one of the objects. ‘’Maybe Bohdan ordered them away?’’ You replied with a frown. ‘’But the first Army doesn’t have the jurisdiction here,’’ Mal told you.

‘’Perhaps the promise of 20 million Kruge is good enough to buy our access to the docks,’’ Alina remarked and showed the newspaper of her and Kirigian to Mal. ‘’I wish he was alive just so I could punch that face again,’’ Mal spoke. ‘’Thanks to him, the whole world sees me as a traitorous villain,’’ Alina replied as you sighed and grabbed the paper before you knuckled it down and tossed it away.

‘’Yeah, well, they’re wrong,’’ You told her. ‘’Valiant of you, but I’m sure they printed more than one,’’ Alina said to you with a smile. ‘’Eh, whatever, it wasn’t a good use to us anyway,’’ You replied with a shrug. ‘’So, what now?’’ Alina asked and looked at you and Mal.

You and Mal looked at each other before turning back to Alina. ‘’We find the Sea Whip,’’ You spoke, and you narrowed your eyes. ‘’Hang on,’’ You told them. ‘’That ship’s not flying any flag, it’s private,’’ You replied as Alina looked at you.

‘’Which means, it can be chartered,’’ Alina said, and you nodded with hope. ‘’Okay, come on,’’ Alina urged and grabbed her bag. You stepped up from the ground and grabbed your bag, since you sat between Alina and Mal, you saw the corner of your eyes as Mal grabbed Alina by the cheek before kissing her lips.

‘’Come on! Seriously? How many times do I have to deal with the two of you kissing each other’s faces?’’ You exclaimed as a groan left past by your lips. You ignored the looks you received from them and walked to the people on the docks that were preparing for tonight’s journey.

‘’Hey, stop, we need a charter out of here immediately,’’ You spoke as Alina and Mal trailed behind. You saw one woman and one male standing in front of you with a sword behind your back. ‘’We can pay,’’ You told them as you gestured toward Mal, who handed you a golden pin. ‘’It’s gold,’’ You told her and handed the pin to the woman.

‘’That’ll do,’’ She shrugged her shoulders and gave the pin to the man next to her. ‘’Come on then, hurry up, I’ll take you to the captain,’’ The man spoke as you nodded, glancing at Alina and Mal before following him to the ship.

‘’Thank you,’’ You replied.

‘’You, stop!’’ A voice spoke and the three of you turned around to see Bohdan approaching you. ‘’You want to fight, Ravka? Hey?’’ The woman commented as she brought her ax from behind. ‘’That man and that woman is a deserter of the First Army,’’ He scowled and pointed toward you and Mal.

‘’They belong to our custody,’’

‘’Is that so? All right then,’’ The woman told him before she turned to the ship. ‘’Ravka wants a fight!’’ She shouted as she grabbed the other ax and the people began to show their weapons. You chuckled to yourself when you saw the reaction on Bohdan. ‘’I don’t want to escalate the fight with Shu Han,’’ He responded as he saw the male and you guessed it was the woman’s brother grabs his sword from behind and approached him. ‘’We’re not with Shu, we’re independent,’’ He commented.

‘’Maybe save your bullets for the war, old man?’’ The woman questioned him. ‘’First Army needs to know its place,’’

‘’No point in denying it, Miss Starkov, your sister is the sun summoner,’’ You sighed, rolling your eyes at the blonde male in front of you. Tolya had led you to the captain and you didn’t like him because all he did was flirt with you the moment you arrived in his office.

‘’You’re right, Alina?’’ You asked and looked at her. Alina raised her hands as she summoned the light. ‘’Impressive,’’ He whistled, shaking his head in approval. ‘’And it’s not that often that I say that,’’ He added. ‘’Well, I guess that not many people do impress you,’’ You remarked as he chuckled.

‘’Well, love, you’re the only one who impressed me tonight with our beauty when you arrived at my office,’’ He smirked toward you. You glared at him, clenching your jaw as you felt a warmth forming on your cheeks. You saw him forming a smug smile on his face.

‘’Let us go, or you’ll be out 20 million Kruge and a ship,’’ Alina said. ‘’While I’m well aware you could consign us all to the watery deep, you should consider how far away the docks we are,’’ He said as he walked over to a table and poured himself a glass of Whiskey. ‘’Besides, I’m not handing you over to the Fjerdans,’’ He said and turned around to walk towards his desk and faced you.

‘’You’re not?’’ You questioned him and arched an eyebrow. ‘’Saints, no, I wouldn’t dream of it,’’ He told you. ‘’Sorry, is it offensive to say that in the presence of a living Saint?’’ He questioned and looked at Alina.

‘’Okay,’’ You spoke as the three of you sat on the chairs in front of the desk. ‘’What do you want with us then?’’ Mal questioned him. ‘’With you? Nothing, honestly, I’m not even sure who you are,’’ He responded, making you roll your eyes at him.

‘’You, however, you can keep your presence here with your beauty,’’ He remarked and looked at you with a smirk. ‘’Knock it off,’’ You scowled as he chuckled before he gestured toward your sister, who stood between you and Mal. ‘’But the Sun Summoner, well, you have to know you’re quite valuable,’’ He replied and took a sip of the alcohol.

‘’You just said you wouldn’t turn her in for a bounty, pirate,’’ Mal replied.

‘’Privateer,’’ He corrected as you rolled your eyes. ‘’As if there’s a difference,’’ You remarked and glared at him. ‘’There is,’’ He responded and looked at you. ‘’And what I said was I wouldn’t hand her over to the Fjerdans, I said nothing of the Kerch or Shu, I paid a small fortune to empty the dock and make sure you got into my ship, and frankly, I think the Fjerdans are severely undervaluing you,’’ He said and looked at Alina.

‘’You’re right, they are because you’ll be able to ask the King of Ravka for twice as much,’’ You replied and leaned closer to the desk. ‘’You know the king?’’ He asked with a smirk. ‘’My sister is the Sun summoner,’’ You responded. ‘’By all the accounts, the First Army have now turned their sights on Grisha, thanks to what you and your conspirator did in the Fold-’’

‘’The Darkling and I were not partners,’’ Alina cut him off. ‘’You may believe otherwise, but once I tear down the Fold and reunite Ravka, the world will see I am not his ally,’’ Alina told him with a firm voice. ‘’Help us, and you will be rewarded,’’ You spoke as you crossed your arms and leaned into the chair.

‘’To tear down the Fold?’’

‘’And how do you plan on doing that exactly?’’ He scoffed. ‘’By hunting down Morozova’s Sea Whip,’’ You revealed. ‘’Y/N,’’ Mal warned you, and you held your hand out to stop him. ‘’I suppose if the stag existed, the Sea Whip and the Firebird might as well,’’ He replied and looked at you in disbelief. ‘’You couldn’t do it with one amplifier, but two,’’

‘’Unburdened by General Kirigan under my power,’’ Alina said. ‘’Will you help us or not?’’ You asked him with a frown. He stepped up from his desk with a thoughtful look on his face. ‘’There’s adventure, danger, money,’’ He spoke before he turned around with a grin on his face.

‘’Now you’re speaking my language!’’

let me know what you thought! reblogging always helps and the tag list are still open!

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone x reader #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #the darkling x reader #tolya yul bataar #tamar kir bataar #aleksander morovoza #aleksander kirigan

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uhbasicallyjustmilex · 2 months

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i don't know what it is in the air, but in the last 24 hours i have received a few ao3 comments/asks/dms with the most unbelievably touching and detailed feedback about four walls 🥺🥺

i will reply to each individually as soon as i have the time to sit down and give them the attention they deserve, but i just wanted to quickly post this to say there genuinely aren't the words to express how much reading your words has lifted my heart today 🌟

i've been struggling a LOT with imposter syndrome and self-criticism around my writing lately, and to be totally honest, i’ve also been feeling increasingly worried that people are starting to lose interest in the fic because it does take me a bit of time to write each chapter, and also because i think the fandom generally has been a bit quieter lately which is always tough on anyone creating works for it.

i write first and foremost for the love of the story i am creating, but it can be really hard to maintain that momentum at times when writing something that is essentially novel-length, and having people engage with it can truly just bring it all to life again in those moments where you doubt everything and want to give up. i can't tell you the number of times reading someone's thoughts on a chapter has helped ground me back into the most important parts of the story, or has inspired me to develop a certain theme moving forward.

so yeah. if you are someone who has ever commented on anyone's story and shared your experience of it with them, please know how incredibly, incredibly valuable your words are. as a writer, sharing your work is scary and daunting and vulnerable - and getting to speak with people about what you are creating truly brings it to life and keeps it alive 💗

in short: thank you to literally everyone who's ever left feedback on four walls. you’re all fucking incredible and i am so so grateful 💜

(PS chapter nine is sitting at around 12,500 words and is in the final stages of editing - i'm hoping it'll be posted next weekend! 😘)

#genuinely feeling a little emotional #fandoms are amazing spaces with so many wonderful people in them 🥹#💖💖💖#four walls #milex #lulu posts

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solsays · 2 months

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don’t know what has inspired me to do this but here is a fic rec list of some of my favorite hideduo fics :] they’re mostly fluff because I choose to ignore the angst of canon

Gen, M/M | hurt/comfort | 4769 words

Fit gets bodied by a creeper and falls down a big hole. Tazercraft are there to save the day! or OR; I got nostalgic about early Hide and Seek Trio so I wrote them during the obsidian armor era (think like july 2023)

M/M | Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Making Out | 5613 words

Fit and Pac spend the day in bed.

Friends With Benefits, Awkward Flirting | 12018 words

Pac and Cellbit are friends with benefits - but Pac falls for Cellbit’s new housemate, Fit.

M/M, Other | driver & bodyguard au, fluff and angst | 12/? ch, 84,520 words

this is the fitmc bodyguard x pac driver au where they take care of sunny, share a house in the country for months and months, and try not to fall in love with each other while technically on the job

M/M | New Years Kiss, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Driver x Bodyguard AU | 6700 words

Fit attends the most anticipated social event of the year for the first time with Pac and Tubbo. Not as a bodyguard this time, but as a guest.

M/M | Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Slow Burn, Christmas Modern AU | 9/9 ch, 37,448 words

When Ramón makes a secret bet with Richarlyson that he could get his dad a date in time for Christmas, Fit and Pac are quickly thrust into a series of "very good friend" shenanigans that force them to reconcile with their growing feelings for one another.

M/M | Modern Bakery AU, Meet-Cute | 11,844 words

Pac falls head-over-heels for the owner of his local bakery.

M/M | Fluff, like 5 AUs | 9132 words

In nearly every universe, Fit and Pac find each other. In some of them, they even get to kiss.

(yes toni I am reccing your fic. it deserves it)

That’s just some of my favorites, always feel free to dm me if you want more recs, and everybody feel free to reblog this with your own recs for whatever ships/platonic pairings :]

M/M, Gen | Kingdom AU, fluff & angst, slowburn (hella) | 1/4 ch, 14,897 words

Thasil, considered the capital of the continent, is a safe haven for a lot of people, expressing ideas in magic, technology and combining the two. Fit escapes a land of violence, and instead finds a husband, a son and roommate (in that order.) Pac escapes people of violence and finds safety in healing other people, while struggling to figure out what in him needs to be healed.

The two find each other, healing and hope for the future.

or, over the course of nine years fit and pac learn how to heal and love, with and without each other, and what it means to find a family.

This. *this fucking fic*. It might be the death of me, it’s one of my favorite hideduo fics ever actually. If you choose to read any of these read this one, I’m begging.

#fitmc #pactw #qsmp fitmc #fitpac #hideduo #qsmp pac #qsmp fanart #qsmpblr #qsmp fandom #qsmp #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 recs #fic rec #fanfic rec #fanfic recommendation #qsmp fanfic #qsmp fanfiction #Jae if you add any of my fics to this I swear to Mine

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bright-and-burning · 7 days

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🐑 send me a fake set of fic tags, and I’ll try to come up with a summary for it! !!!! OOOh okay. if you're up for it(!), then: #Canon Divergent #There Was Only Ten Beds #Magical Realism #Bondage #Light Decapitation

a lobby with nine hundred windows | lando/oscar, M

#canon divergence, #there was only ten beds, #magical realism, #bondage, #light decapitation

The first sign of something going really, terribly, desperately wrong is subtle, honestly. So subtle, Oscar hadn’t thought anything of it. Brakes catch fire all the time, Max was due for some bad luck; nothing more, nothing less. The explosion bit was a little weird, a little larger than usual, but that was easily explained away. The second sign, the air going wavy and thick around him as he exited the car, is almost equally subtle. Waking up to Lando holding a knife to his throat, however, is not. Australia has a lot to answer for.

not only did i come up with a summary for it. i also uh. wrote it. it's wild what breaks through writers block 😭 so thank u for this strange and lovely tag combo. here's 1700 words of. idek what. something completely and utterly different from anything else i've ever written, that's for sure!

tw for mild description of violence

Oscar wakes, slow and groggy, to a warm weight on his chest, limiting his breaths. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and goes from half-asleep to wide-awake in milliseconds, Lando looming over him, perched on his chest. Knife at his throat.

“Lando, what the fuck?”

Oscar struggles, feeling returning to his limbs, the restraints around his wrists and ankles making themselves known.

Lando presses him further into the bed, eyes wide. He shifts his gaze around the room, frenetic, never keeping Oscar out of sight for long. Oscar’s hyperaware of the cool edge of metal against his skin. The thump of blood through his carotid is loud in his ears.

“Tell me something only you would know.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Oscar, I need you to trust me.” Lando leans in further, so close Oscar has to fight against the urge to cross his eyes. “Tell me something no one else knows.”

Oscar thinks, hard. Lando’s face is more serious than he’s ever seen it before.

“The backs of your thighs are weirdly ticklish?”

Lando releases a little of the pressure, but stays leaned over Oscar, considering.

“At least three other people know that. Something else. Please.” His voice cracks, and with it, his expression, desperation on display.

Oscar reaches to touch him, to soothe the visible ache. The material wrapped tight around his wrist snaps taut before he can even get close. Lando notices the aborted motion, and shifts forward again.

“Oscar, think.”

Oscar wracks his brain, turning over all the stones labeled Lando in his head, looking for something novel, something truly secret. Carefully considers the little cut-off wheezy sounds Lando makes when he’s just come, the half-filled sketchbooks shoved in a drawer, his secret sleeping spot at the MTC. Discards each one, heart rate slowing now that Oscar has a task to focus on, before remembering—

“You’ve been stealing my shampoo!” Oscar says, too loud for the odd room they’re in.

“No I ha- How did you know that?”

Oscar shrugs as best as he can in the restraints.

“I realized I was running out too fast. And you smell like me sometimes. Noticed after Vegas, I think.”

Lando’s face does something complicated, flashing from shifty to smug to sheer relief. He tosses the knife to the ground with a clatter, and collapses onto Oscar.

“Thank fuck, Osc, holy shit,” he says, shoulders shaking.

“Can I get some answers now? Like why you had a knife at my throat?”

Lando sits back up, nearly knocking his head into Oscar’s chin. His face is wet. Oscar remembers his restraints, and does not go to wipe his tears. He climbs off the bed, disappearing out of Oscar’s limited line of sight, and pops back up with said knife.

“Let me get you out of here first. Before things get wobbly again.”

“Wobbly?”

Lando ignores his question, focused on getting Oscar out of the straps. His hands are shaking nearly too bad to unknot anything; the knife lays unused, for fear of accidentally cutting something else. It takes minutes for Oscar’s right hand to be freed.

“Give me that,” Oscar gestures for the knife.

Lando hands it over without protest, and Oscar cuts through the remaining straps in quick order.

When Oscar is fully freed, Lando immediately pulls him into a hug tight enough to bruise.

“God, Osc. I thought I’d never see you again.”

Oscar pats him on the back, gentle. Lets him cling on, face tucked into his neck, quiet, shuddering exhales tickling his skin. Just when Oscar opens his mouth to ask any of the million questions, Lando pulls away and tugs him towards the door.

“I think it’ll be easier now that I’ve found the real you,” Lando says, opening the door. The light beyond is nearly blinding in comparison to the dim lit room they’re leaving behind. Lando steps out, hand still tight on Oscar’s. Oscar follows.

“The real me?”

They’re standing in a long hallway now, lined with doors of different shapes and sizes. Oscar turns slightly, to look at the one they’ve just left. It’s a simple metal door in a metal frame, a neon yellow handle the only distinguishing feature.

Every fifth door or so is the same. Simple metal, neon yellow handle. The rest have no pattern, as far as Oscar can tell. Here’s a frosted glass door stretching the full height of the corridor, and then a mini-van door with flame decals on the bottom. Here’s a mahogany double door several inches shorter than Lando, followed by a door Oscar could swear is Mark’s front door.

Lando speaks up, drawing his attention away from the oak door with the familiar mail slot. He nods to the door they just left.

“That’s the tenth one I’ve tried. Every other Oscar hasn’t passed the test.”

Oscar’s blood goes cold.

“How did you know,” He stops, unsure how to phrase his question.

“To check?”

Oscar nods.

“The first one was…” Lando pauses. Shivers at something only in his mind. “He was just wrong. I dunno. Didn’t smile right, or something. Like that valley thing.”

Lando’s clearly leaving something unsaid, some bigger reason to put a knife under Oscar’s chin, but he looks like he’s about to start shaking again. Oscar leaves it be, for now. Until they get out of this mess.

“And that’s when you…” Oscar holds up the knife.

Lando nods jerkily.

“I mean, one minute I was on the podium, the next the world went wobbly and I was here. I started opening doors, just trying to get out. Saw a lot of freaking weird shit, okay,” his voice is creeping higher, more defensive with each word, “and then I saw you, and then you weren’t you, and I-“ Lando deflates. “I freaked out, a little.”

“And then you, what, stabbed him?” Oscar tries to keep his voice even. Fails a little, maybe. Lando isn’t meeting his eyes.

“I sort of. Slithistthroat.”

“Sorry?”

Lando clears his throat. He’s tense, shoulders high around his ears, body twisted like he’s ready to bolt.

“Slit his throat.” Lando’s voice tilts up like it’s a question. It’s not.

Oscar stares.

“I freaked out a lot.”

And then he did it eight more times, from the sounds of it. Oscar can’t even imagine. Going from room to room, bed to bed. Waking Lando up, over and over, just to find something terrible in his place. Having to kill something shaped like him, time and time again, with no idea where the real him is. No idea if he’s making a mistake.

Oscar eyes the knife, looking closer. Looking for a distraction in the minutiae.

“It’s, uhm. Clean?”

“They disappear, after. That’s how I knew that I- That’s how I knew.”

That’s how he knew he hadn’t made a mistake, he means. That he hadn’t killed the real Oscar.

“Oh. That’s good, then. That they disappear.”

“Not- not right away.”

Lando looks haunted, briefly. He shakes his head, and starts moving, pulling Oscar along again.

Oscar changes the subject.

“Any idea what we’re looking for?”

“Not exactly,” Lando draws out the vowels. They’re still holding hands. Oscar is thankful for Lando’s tight grip on him, a tether to reality. A reminder that they’re both real. For both of them. “Was mostly hoping if I found the right you things would clear up.”

“Oh, brilliant.”

Lando squeezes his hand and keeps moving, walking much faster than normal.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Getting out of the car.” Oscar squints, picking over his memories. “Going to get weighed, maybe?”

They pass a sliding glass door. The interior is distorted, but it looks like his back door. From home, in Melbourne. Oscar’s chest goes a little tight looking at it, but it doesn’t feel quite right. Nothing like the growing pull towards the end of the hall, and maybe Lando was right about things clearing up. They keep moving. The pull keeps growing.

“D’you feel that?”

Oscar nods. “It’s gotta be coming up.”

Whatever it is, at least.

A quick glance at Lando’s tense face and Oscar knows he’s not alone in that thought.

Lando stops, so abrupt Oscar’s hand nearly slips from his hold.

“Somewhere around here, you think?”

Oscar steps closer, threading his fingers back through Lando’s. He closes his eyes and focuses on the magnetic pull, tugging at some place behind his sinuses. He turns, slow, careful to keep Lando in his grasp, until something clicks into place.

The pressure releases, like ears popping on a flight. Lando makes a weird noise, some kind of suppressed squeak. Oscar opens his eyes.

The other doors have disappeared, leaving only one: three feet away, right in front of them.

It’s plain. Wood, this time, painted white, set in a plain frame. Empty but for a sign with their names on it.

Oscar turns to Lando.

His eyes are wide and searching.

“This has gotta be it, right?”

“Don’t think we have much of a choice now.”

They step forward in unison. Oscar puts his hand on the doorknob, and pauses.

“Just for luck,” he says, and turns, quick as lightning, to kiss Lando.

Just a press of lips, over as soon as it began, Oscar turning back to the door.

Lando makes a noise, deep in the back of his throat, and spins Oscar bodily by the shoulders.

“Just for luck?” He asks, twitchy all over, and pulls Oscar down against him for another, quick until it’s not, both unable to stay apart for long.

They kiss, slow and steady, reassuring, until the pressure in the back of Oscar’s skull starts building again, an incessant reminder that they need to leave.

They break apart.

Oscar twists the knob, watching Lando instead of the door, and opens it, stepping through without looking. Making sure Lando follows.

The door slams behind them.

They’re in another corridor, long and full of doorways, to Oscar’s despair.

Lando starts laughing, tinged with an edge of hysteria.

Oscar opens his mouth to reassure him, and fails. What if there are more Oscars? God, what if there are Landos?

“It’s Hilton, Oscar, it’s freaking Hilton.” He spins around, arms outstretched, before slamming back into Oscar.

“D’you feel that?“ He whispers into Oscar’s shoulder.

“No?” Oscar’s still in shock, a little.

“Exactly, Osc. No pull, no pressure, no caddy valley. We’re fucking free, baby.”

#fully unedited no second pass no nothing just me locking in for a few hours completely unintentionally. so if u notice anything. shrug #is it in character? girl idk. does it make sense? well. maybe!#mine.fic #i GUESS #mine #8104 #ln #op #ask #writing game

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luxxuriantt · 1 year

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The journey of 2023 Wonder how 2023 will change you? Choose below.

Pile one- Are you healed or just distracted? nine of sw, ace of wands, the kight of cups, the six of wands Either in 2022 or at the moment reading this, you struggled with anxiety or depression. I think this pile was not feeling good enough or they were too scared about what the future holds. You may have wished to experience more, to accomplish more, some situation in your life, were causing too much worry and keeping you from a good nights sleep. A cluttered and overstimulated mind, overthinking every little moment and being overly judging of your every step. I overall see lots of anxiety,exhaustion and worries. If this is the case, then pile one, 2023 is going to be your phoenix year. I see you regaining your will and your spark, you will take life in your hands again and start living it to the fullest. Through out the year, i see most of you exploring new horizons and making bold moves. Someone is going to start a new hobby or a job that they enjoy and for some i see relocation or starting college/university. Pile one, you will start taking more care of your body, paying more attention to your habits, diet and physical activity, this leading to you really glowing up. This year will make you become more creative and expressive, if you do make art, you will show it more, and for the others, you wont hold back in being yourself and doing/saying what comes to you naturally. Lmao i also feel like this group will put themselves out there and actually attract suitors and possibly some fun affairs and one night stands. Ypu may meet a future romantic partner. At the end of the year you will like you really succeeded,you are now bold, unapologetic, confident and glowing. pile two- Good news the queen of pentacles, the ace of swords,the eight and nine of pentacles

Talk about making money pile two lmao. This upcoming year, is gonna make you really focused on your career, on your studies, self worth and health. I do believe that a major lesson you will learn is what real confidence and self worth feel like. I do feel as tho many of the people who will choose this pile have confidence, but it is not coming from the inside, rather from external validation, so in 2023, you will start feeling comfortable in your own skin, and it is not going to matter with whom you are and where you are. Your mindset for a lot of things will change, you wont come from a space of lack anymore, you will start realizing what you have and feel more grateful. This will lead to more opportunities and it will be muuuch more easy for you to receive the universes blessings. Many will start loving their physical body, start taking more care of it. Skin and hair care, healthy diet and sleeping schedule, outfits that suit your tone and body, being picky with whom you share the space and energy, all that good stuff. Now like i said, there will be a lot of focus on your career and studies and basically anything material or practical that is important for you, so expect promotions, rewards, high scores and recognition. The year itself, i dont feel like it will be a smooth ride, there might be periods of isolation or losses/ feeling lonely, but i dont see you giving up or stopping. You will definitely come into more money and some may even go on vacation or buy something nice that has always been on their mind. At the end of the year, you will feel much more secure and more proud, you will achieve your plans and you will be pleased for reaching your full potential.

Pile three- If you have a tumblr... the death ,the hierophant , the queen of swords and six of swords

This year will change you....internally, a total internal metamorphosis. I think that right now you are carrying many opinions and beliefs that are blockers in your life, they are stopping you from moving forward and being completely in sync with the God in you, you still are not aware of the depths of you and your power. I feel like there is a part of you that is buried underneath and you havent gone thru an ego death. Either some events will happen to you or you will witness something that might shatter your world. Something will happen that will push you to change from your roots. There are some limitations in your thinking process that put you in a box, or somehow limit your being, it almost feel like you arent trusting yourself and are holding back. What will happen is, you will change yout perspective and start viewing the world differently. You will strenghten your relationship with the divine and you will preach what you believe in. Its like purification of the mind, seeing the bigger picture and finding the truth. After this, pile three, you will be unstoppable. Your mind will no longer be clouded easily and i think you will move on from reocuring thoughts or patterns and finally let go. i get a little sad when typing this but believe me in the end you will be grateful.I also feel like i should tell you that you are protected, so dont worry about it.

Thats all, thank you for your attention <3

#pick a pile #pick a card #pick a picture #tarot reading #intuitive tarot reading #tarot

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peculiarxafternoon · 2 years

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pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡

(21st century girls themed reading!)

paid readings | ko-fi

hello, darlings! this reading is inspired by @rainbowwitchsworld who has kindly allowed me to use their idea. we'll be looking into which of your qualities shine the most, both internally and externally, that make people understand how truly beautiful you are! some advice may be thrown in there because i really can't help myself, but the focus of the reading is you and your unadulterated, unaffected by society's unrealistic standards beauty. shall we get into it?

take a deep breath and focus on your best qualities, whatever you truly like about yourself. then, pick a pile intuitively.

! for entertainment purposes only!

! constructive criticism and feedback are welcome!

! decks used: rider waite tarot deck, mermaid tarot, astrological oracle cards!

pile 1

(cards: the judgement, six of pentacles, eight of swords, page of pentacles, five of cups rx, three of wands, scoprio)

hello pile 1! the thing with you guys is that your soul shines through to your physical characteristics so much, that it makes a lot of people agree that you are conventionally beautiful, even if you yourselves don’t see it. you have this way of going about life that isn’t very cautious, yet it puts you in the position of a student. people find so much beauty in the way you see life’s ups and downs as lessons, and in the way you want to learn more and grow more every day. it’s definitely not an easy feat, but you guys just do it naturally, the “why”s and “how”s slip of your tongue subconsciously sometimes.

you also give a lot, whether that’s material things to people in need, or parts of yourself to the people you love. in the eyes of your close environment, you’re beautiful because you manage to be the first person they go to for comfort, when they know that they need to hear the truth, no matter how harsh it is. yet, you always manage to deliver it in a way that makes your people feel safe, and understood. when it comes to material things, gift giving may be your love language, as well as acts of service. trust me when i tell you that it is so attractive when you do the little things, without expecting much back: donating to charities, helping clean a friend’s home, taking your siblings to eat at a place they really wanted to go. it’s the smallest details that others notice that make you very attractive in their eyes.

beyond that, you may be the type of person who has struggled a lot in the past, and still struggles with their mental health and upsetting thoughts. even to the people who have met this side of you, simply the fact that you have been through so much and are still looking forward to the future deems you admirable. you may like going on adventures or may be a very expressive and loud person at times, especially when you get excited, which brings out a different side of you than people are used to. needless to say, that makes you attractive too!

physical characteristics-wise, you may have red or black features (black or red hair, redder cheeks or lips, darker or auburn eyes), which adds to a sort of sleeker and more mysterious look. people may pass you by on the street and do a double take, especially if your style leans more towards darker tones. i also got a message that you look good with sharp eyeliner on, but makeup isn’t something everyone is interested in so it may not resonate for all of you. still, if you have been curious about how you’d look, maybe this can be your push to try it out!

thanks for reading!

pile 2

(cards: five of cups rx (x2), nine of wands, nine of swords rx, the high priestess rx, nine of cups, saturnus)

hello pile 2! i think the major thing that makes you attractive is how you manage to overcome your obstacles. you are a very realistic person, who sometimes doubts their intuition (even though you have a lot of it), yet you manage to be grateful for all you have. people really admire how you not only act as an inspiration for them, but remind them to be grateful for what they have themselves. you hold a lot of inner wisdom (which is why you may doubt your intuition at times), and that makes others feel at awe. some even may come to you for advice often, but others may hesitate because you have a very direct way of saying things (still, that is attractive in its own way).

you have this “don’t fuck with me” type of energy that stems from all that you’ve been through. you have experienced a lot of loss in your life and may have struggled to bounce back after that, but you are now in a state that, even when you don’t feel your strongest, people are scared to cross you. this sort of intimidation draws some in and pushes some away, but i believe your beauty is a very rare one few people can appreciate. your smarts really shine through in all sorts of situations, especially because you seem to carry a lot of miscellaneous information within you. your beauty mostly resides in your brain, your thoughts, and how you view the world even after all the lessons you’ve been through.

some people may find you so attractive that they end up dreaming of you because of how much you’re on their mind. you probably have a couple cases of secret admirers, and they all adore the way you think. you act as an inspiration for many, with the way you present yourself, and even if their attraction isn’t romantic, they feel a certain pull for you that they can’t really explain. sometimes they may even think that you hold the answers to most of life’s problems within you, especially if you have strong saturn placements in your chart. still, the way you managed to pull yourself through the worst parts of your life is something so many people find beautiful, even if they don’t know you well; it seems to be embedded in your aura.

when it comes to physical characteristics, you probably have very nice hair, whatever that may mean for you (strong, thick, lots of hair, long, etc), and a very strong bone structure. your nose and cheekbones especially may be key characteristics of your face, as well as your jawline. you just look put together no matter what you wear or how you view yourself, and people really appreciate your sense of style, and the way you manage to express yourself through it. if you haven’t tried it already, wearing more earthly or dark tones, monochrome outfits and straight lines will probably suit you very nicely, along with pulled back or shorter hairstyles that show off your facial structure!

thanks for reading!

pile 3

(cards: king of swords, three of wands, page of swords, ace of pentacles rx, the tower, the moon rx, scorpio)

hello pile 3! some of you may have resonated with pile one, so maybe reading that will be helpful, but don’t worry if that’s not the case for you! you are a very sharp, witty and creative person, a quick thinker in cases when it’s needed, which is found to be very attractive to those around you. expressing your creativity and thoughts could be your ultimate goal in life, so much so that you’re pursuing a career or a field of study that usually isn’t as financially stable as others. you know you have a message you want to tell the world, you know you love creating whatever you connect most with, and you don’t care if that’s going to make you end up poorer than most in a society that doesn’t support the masses, anyway. oftentimes you may even use your skills and talents for free, which leaves a good impression on people, other than the fact that the find you and your art enticing and moving.

what many may not know is that your art is your way of dealing with things from your past that have hurt you, and that you are currently trying to let go of. if it wasn’t for your strong mindset and the things you create, you wouldn’t have been able to move forward in life. only those who truly interact with your art and understand it on a deeper level, especially if you write, will be able to understand where you come from and how important what you’re doing is to you. your smile shines brighter when you talk about your creations, and if people found beauty in you before, those who get to see this side of you become absolutely enamoured.

beyond your more romantic and artistic side, you’re a person always ready to broaden their horizons and learn from others. you may be very open with your thoughts, telling others what you think without hesitating. it may sting sometimes, being told you’re wrong so openly, but it’s beautiful to many nonetheless. they know that you will be honest with them, and they will hear your point of view regardless, while being reassured that their point of view is also seen. you may seem like the type of person who keeps to themselves sometimes and overshares on others, but those little glimpses into who you are help people discover more of your beauty and thoughts, slowly but surely.

you may have scoprio or strong pluto or mars in your chart, so you naturally exude a sort of intimidating vibe. you may be very experimental with your fashion and like wearing more experimental or weird sort of accessories. black and red may be colours you gravitate towards a lot, but you also may not be opposed to patterns and lots of colour for some statement pieces. you are also probably the type of person who likes finding weird graphic t-shirts and wears them ironically (think the “fish love me, men fear me”) kind.

thanks for reading!

! do not copy or repost my work!

#pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot readings #free tarot readings #bts #kpop

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naavispider · 1 year

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hey! I've been following you for a while now and i just wanted to say that i absolutely love your writing and check your blog almost everyday 😔🙏🏻

anyways i was wondering if you'd write something fluffy where spider gets the hiccups while out in the forest with the recoms. He acts tough and tries to hide it, but the recoms take notice of course. They take turns suggesting increasingly ridiculous 'cures' (gulping down lots of water, holding your breath + spinning around etc) which don't work, to their amusement and spider's growing embarrassment, and Quaritch ends up having to step in as the Responsible Father before things get out of hand.

+10 for general recom dumbassery

+20 for a cute father-son moment between quaritch and spider

+30 if spider's hiccups actually go away! 🤭

-b

Hi b! Thanks for asking! Sorry it took me a while 💞

"Son of a-"

Spider's curse was drowned out by Wainfleet's booming laughter throughout the clearing.

"Something funny, Baldo?" Spider dared.

Wainfleet tried to dim his guffaws, but was only drawing more attention to himself from Zdog and Prager. "This kid, man!" Wainfleet chuckled, addressing the rest of the recom squad's curious and amused stares. "He's had the hiccups for the last twenty minutes and tried to hide it!"

Instantaneously, the watching recoms' faces burst into matching expressions of mirth.

"Aw, baby Spidey has the hiccups?" Zdog mocked.

Spider seethed. He had been trying to conceal them for this exact reason. He knew the squad would be jerks. He grit his teeth and turned around on the fallen tree trunk, facing out of the clearing and ignoring the squad.

"Hey, kid!" Lopez called. Spider didn't turn around. He knew he was being mocked. "I got a cure." Spider's ears perked up. He slowly twisted around to hear it.

"You gotta hold your breath," Lopez continued, walking over so he didn't have to shout, "and spin around ten times while looking at the sky."

"I'm not doing that, asshat!" Spider yelled. Did they think he was dumb?

Lopez looked offended. Fike stepped in. "It's true Spidey," he said. "Something about..." he looked at Ja, who was smirking from beside the fire. "Stretching your diaphragm! Right, Ja?"

Spider looked at the medic for his opinion. "That's correct," Ja admitted. "You do have to stretch your diaphragm..."

Lopez and Fike cheered, and Zdog had begun to laugh again. "Come on, Spider! Give it a go!"

Spider cussed them all in Na'vi, hating them for their stupid 'cures', but he really was feeling desperate. If he didn't embarrass himself by listening to their suggestions, the humiliation of them all listening to his hiccups would do the job anyway.

"Fine," he growled, getting up and taking a huge gulp of filtered air, throwing his head back to the sky and spinning. The recoms began to count him, and Spider knew they were doing so deliberately slowly.

"... seven, eight, nine, ten!" They cheered, and Spider stopped spinning, letting himself come to a wobbly standstill. The world spun in front of his eyes, and his legs suddenly felt like jelly. "Woah," he said, trying to find his balance as he stepped forwards.

The recoms roared with laughter as he faceplanted a mushroom.

"Shit," he cussed, struggling to get back to his feet and deciding to just sit down with his head between his knees. Only a few seconds later, the next hiccup came.

"You bastards!" he groaned, raising his head to glare at the squad, laughing like a pack of hyenas. Spider cast around, looking for Quaritch, but the Colonel must have been out looking for dinner or securing the perimeter.

"Alright, alright," Wainfleet snickered. "Have some of my water. Just take small gulps." He got up and passed the bottle to Spider, who took it after a second's hesitation.

"Wait, have you tried drinking upside down?" Zdog butted in.

"Upside down?" queried Ja, a skeptical look on his face.

Zdog's face was reminiscent and confident. "Oh yeah, my granny swore by it, bless her heart." Spider couldn't tell if she was being serious.

"Is that gonna-" another hiccup "-stretch my diaphragm, yeah?" Spider asked sarcastically, fed up of her already.

"It will!" she replied earnestly. "If you're constantly taking small gulps without pausing for air, it forces you to hold your breath and stretches your lungs out!

Spider hiccuped again, sealing the nail in his coffin. "How am I gonna drink upside down?" He asked. Seeing the glint in Zdog's eye, and the conspiratorial smirk between Lopez and Fike, he immediately sussed them out. "You are not holding me!"

"You're a right buzzkill, kid," Wainfleet murmured.

"I can do a handstand fine by myself," Spider ignored him. "But how am I gonna drink anything?"

Prager seemed to be two steps ahead of him, already pulling out a straw from one of the recom's gross nutrient shakes that came in cardboard cartons. "Voila."

"Jesus," Spider muttered, eyeing the straw and the devilish gleam in each recom's eye as they stared at him. "You know I'll have to take the mask off?" He hiccuped again, which only strengthened their resolve, making them even more insufferable.

Spider made up his mind. "If any of you dickwads touches me I swear to Eywa..." he warned them, approaching Prager and bringing the bottle with him. "I can only hold it for like, thirty seconds."

"I'm right here with the mask, whenever you give the word," Wainfleet assured him.

"Fuck. Am I really doing this?" Spider muttered to himself stupidly.

"Yeah, baby!" Cried Zdog, who had throughly enjoyed the whole saga, providing nothing but ill-timed sniggers throughout.

Spider got into position, ready to go into a handstand. He addressed Wainfleet. "Once I'm balanced, take the mask off." Hiccup. "When I say, put it back on and not a moment later, you got it? I don't fancy dying."

Prager spoke next. "And I'll hold the bottle up for you, so you don't need to use your hands."

Spider looked around at the group, who were clearly having the time of their lives over his suffering. "I hate every one of you," he muttered, before going down on his hands and pushing himself up into a handstand. He could hold one since he was five - it was just something he was good at. Funnily enough, no Na'vi he'd ever met was able to do it. He'd spent ages trying to teach Kiri and Lo'ak and even Tuk, but they just couldn't. It seemed his useless skill was finally coming in handy.

He waited for the next hiccup to pass, took a few deep breaths, then nodded at Wainfleet. "Okay, take the mask off."

Wainfleet did so, and Prager immediately moved the water within sipping distance of Spider's mouth. He began sipping small sips, without pausing for breath, just like Zdog had said, until-

"PUT YOUR MASK BACK ON!"

Spider immediately fell down from his handstand - somewhat gracefully - and took the mask back that Wainfleet was hurriedly handing out to him.

Quaritch was standing on the edge of the clearing, a yerik slung over his shoulders and staring at the group with murder in his eyes. He deposited the animal down by the fire and stormed across the grass. Spider pressed the seal on the exopack and cool air flowed back into his mask. He took a hesitant step back from the Colonel, the man's anger palpable.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He yelled, addressing the recoms, but mostly, Spider noticed, Wainfleet. Nobody answered. "Taking his mask off! ARE! YOU! INSANE!"

All noise had vanished from the clearing. Spider could have heard a pin drop. He didn't want to even shuffle his feet for fear of making too much noise. Quaritch's roars had rooted everybody in place in shock.

Quaritch looked directly at Spider. "Come here!" he demanded, and Spider hastily obeyed. "Sit down!" Quaritch barked, removing Spider from the line of bollocking. He continued to shout at the recom squad for what felt like half an hour, when in reality it couldn't have been any longer than a minute. He was so angry, even Spider knew better than to snigger at the looks of embarrassment on the recoms' faces. They looked like a line of children that had misbehaved at school.

When Quaritch had finished, he took a moment to catch his breath, then turned back to Spider. Spider automatically flinched away, but there was no need. The Colonel reached out a huge hand and placed it on Spider's shoulder. "You should know better, kid." His tone was feather light compared to the one he'd used on the squad. "What if you'd hiccuped without your mask on?"

Spider hadn't actually considered that. Until Quaritch had mentioned hiccuping, Spider had completely forgotten about it, and only now did he realise... it had worked.

"Sorry," Spider mumbled, only half sarcastically. He looked up and made eyes with Zdog over Quaritch's shoulder. Although the woman was thoroughly scolded, she still maintained that mischievous glint in her eye, and Spider knew in that moment that she was gloating.

She'd won.

Spider's hiccups had been cured.

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