#one who wanders the city in order to experience it.

[flaneuresse]

Montreuil-sur-Mer, août 2019 by Marine Beccarelli on Flickr.

#flaneuresse #flâneur (n.) #one who wanders the city in order to experience it. #curators of tumblr #curated with care #vintage #film #35mm #photography #analog #photographer #flickr #film photography #lomo #lomography #kodak #canon #nikon #minolta #agfa #fuji

[lovings4turn]

୭ 🗝️ ✧ ˚. 🪩 puppy love . . . (l.h.)

— the last thing that you expect to find when wandering around monaco is a lone dog also exploring the streets. your search for his owner proves far more successful than you could have imagined.

+ requested by a lovely anon! this idea was so so cute so thank you sm for sending it in, i hope you enjoy! banner from cafekitsune!

+ pure fluff, roscoe is the ultimate match maker here.

monaco was truly everything you could have dreamed it would be, and then some.

for the past few days, you and your friends had frequented the glorious larvotto beach, explored the overly lavish stores and casinos, and had even been convinced to walk the length of the famous race track that encircled the streets.

meanwhile, your nights were spent in fancy restaurants and expensive clubs, the over-priced champagne giving you a real taste of the opulent lifestyle of those who lived there.

months and months of extra shifts at work had finally paid off, and so you were determined to make the absolute most of every last minute of the trip. not a moment was to be wasted, which was exactly why you and another friend were wandering around the city whilst the rest of your group slept off an awful hangover.

it was as you lifted a hand to adjust the sunglasses that were slipping from your face that you caught sight of a flash of brown in your peripheral vision. confusion prompted your brows to furrow, a feeling that only heightened as you realised what the flash actually was.

seemingly on his own was a large bulldog, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth in a display of happiness. a brief survey of your surroundings confirmed your suspicions that the dog was unattended, and your frown deepened. 

unable to leave the poor thing by himself in the middle of such a busy place, you began to walk over, taking slow, tentative steps in an effort not to startle the animal.

“hello,” you cooed, voice heading up an octave as you held out a hand in a gesture of friendship. “oh you are gorgeous, aren’t you?”

your friend stifled a laugh at the sight of you, crouched down and offering your hand for the random dog to sniff, an experiment to decide whether or not he would deem you worthy of his companionship. 

“what are you doing here, hm?” you continued, more to yourself than the dog. “where’s y’parent?”

as the dog tilted his head in search of gentle pats, he had also inadvertently revealed the collar sitting around his neck, complete with a silver tag that, thankfully, appeared to be engraved.  

still cooing and fussing over the animal, you gently plucked the tag between your fingers. you manipulated the metal away from the sun in order to make out the letters printed there, and sighed in relief as you read.

ROSCOE. IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL XXXXX-XXX-XXX.

bingo.

“don’t worry, roscoe,” you hummed. “gonna get you home.”

your fingers danced across the keypad of your phone. as the familiar sound of the dial tone rang out, you gnawed at your bottom lip, anxiously awaiting an answer.

not wanting to let him out of your sight, you remained in a squat position despite the burn building in your thighs. the feeling of soft fur against the palm of your hand turned out to be one hell of a motivator. 

“hello?”

the voice on the other end of the line was, undoubtedly, male, and also undoubtedly breathless. a pang of sympathy struck you as you noted the worry in the stranger’s voice, as if he’d been hunting for the dog for a while before your call came through.

“hello! sorry to bother you,” you started, tongue poking out to wet your lips before you continued. “but i think i’ve got your dog with me. he’s a bulldog? roscoe?”

“oh thank god,” the stranger rushed out, a thankful chuckle rumbling through your phone’s speaker. “i’ve been all over looking for him, i was starting to get worried.”

“he’s okay, i’ve got him here and he seems… pretty happy, actually,” you assured, unable to keep a smile out of your voice as roscoe’s tail began to wag a little faster. 

scanning your surroundings in an effort to find some way to mark your location, you noted a café with a name emblazoned above their doorway.

“i’m right next to a roca, the little café?” you explained. "i don't know if it would be easier for you to come to me. not sure how i'd get him to follow along with me, is all," you laughed.

"a roca," the man mumbled, an affirmative tone in his voice. "give me five minutes, i'll be there as fast as i can. thank you so much, seriously. i don't know what i would have done if you hadn't found him."

your face flushed a little at the appreciative tone and high praise, and you struggled to keep the smile out of your voice as you replied.

"it's really no problem. i'd want someone to do the same for me."

after exchanging quick goodbyes, and not before being thanked another three times, you and your friend managed to coax the dog a little closer to the café, wanting to find the quietest spot possible on such a busy street.

"he said he was coming?" your friend confirmed.

"in about two minutes."

"did he sound cute?"

"seriously?"

your friend only laughed, shrugging her shoulders in nonchalance. in her eyes, the question was fully justifiable, and you would have happily answered it if the answer had not been yes.

a few more minutes passed before a familiar voice met your ears, prompting you to look up in search of roscoe's owner.

what you weren't expecting was to meet the eyes of a man who was downright beautiful. he was practically divine, his deep, tattooed skin glowing under the sun as though it had been crafted purely to highlight his biceps.

his braids were pulled back into a ponytail, and as he smiled at you in thanks, you caught sight of the slightest gap between his bright teeth.

you'd stumbled across the dog of a fucking god.

"hi!" you greeted, hoping that your cheeks didn't look as warm as they felt.

judging by the smug look that your friend was giving you, it seemed that pure hope wasn't enough. luckily, the man was far too preoccupied in attaching a lead to the collar of his dog, enthusiastically stroking him as he gently chastised him for running off.

"thank you again, seriously. i swear this has never happened before," he said with a chuckle, hand scratching at the back of his neck.

"really, there's no need to thank me." you dismissed his praise with a wave of your hand, though your smile was practically splitting your face into two. "anyone would've done the same."

"maybe, but it was you who did, so thank you..." he trailed off as he spoke, a clear prompt for you to give your name.

"y/n, i'm y/n," you responded, cringing as you instinctively provided a small wave with your name.

"y/n," he repeated, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "i'm lewis. 's nice to meet you."

before you could say anything else, the man began digging through the pockets of his trousers, clearly hunting for something.

"i almost forgot. let me repay you, thank you, whatever you want to call it," he mumbled, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he hunted for his wallet.

"stop, really, it's okay!" you assured, not needing money for the simple act of being a decent human being. you hadn't exactly done anything heroic. just kept a cute dog company until his even cuter owner arrived to reclaim him.

"fine," the man, lewis, agreed, laughing slightly as he took his hand from his pocket. "at least let me take you out to dinner?"

if you were in a cartoon, you're sure that your jaw would've hit the floor in shock. a soft, subtle nudge from your friend was a sharp reminder that you should actually answer the man instead of simply staring in surprise.

"i'd like that," you responded, biting back the wild grin that threatened to spread across your features.

"great. tonight, maybe?"

"sounds perfect to me."

"i'm looking forward to it," lewis said, the corner of his eyes crinkling playfully. "give me a text. you already have my number."

he shot you a wink and, thankfully, decided it was time for him to depart. though you were sad to see him go so soon, it served as a blessing in disguise. you were allowed to keep your cool, as he didn't get to see the sight of you and your friend freaking out, crazed grins and loud laughs escaping you at the absurdity of the situation.

you'd gotten a date with the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen, and it was all thanks to a dog.

monaco truly was a magical place.

🏷️ : @faerieroyal @starriesworlds

add yourself to the taglist here !

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton drabble #lewis hamilton fic #lh44 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you

[shuttershocky]

Which character/operator's dynamics with the doctor you enjoyed the most??

Kal'tsit and Doctor. No one else comes close to how incredibly funny Kal'tsit's antagonistic relationship with the Doctor is once you get a good idea of who these two actually are.

Once you read through a Walk in the Dust and Vigilo you realize these two have such a strong antagonistic relationship their attitudes actually change when in the presence of each other.

Kal'tsit everywhere is the immortal, wandering doctor. She is in the background of every major event in the history of the continent, unparalleled in her experience and unshakeable in her composure. You could flip the truck she's riding in with a bomb in order to hijack her convoy and she doesn't look surprised. She goes to dinner parties dressed in a tuxedo and then engages a demonic supersoldier in mortal combat and rips a chunk out of their throat before going back inside and telling the guests some wild animals had entered the gardens. You could tell her you wish to commit suicide by murdering the two politicians who killed your lover and when she sees she can't dissuade you she helps you assassinate one of them with poison. She's seen the rise and fall of entire civilizations, there's nothing that isn't just another Tuesday for her.

But then you put her near Doctor and the petty bitchiness hidden for millennia comes right the fuck out. She will criticize their actions. She will criticize their clothes. She will criticize their eating habits. When there's bad news to tell Amiya she makes Doctor tell her instead of doing it herself, and god help them if Doctor's newest shenanigans costs astounding company property damage.

Meanwhile Doctor's normally this unhinged, tactical genius that slightly unnerves everyone but everyone relies on to save the day. They eat originium slugs, they pour boiling water into their mouth to cook noodles with, every god or monster of incredible power is entrusted to Doctor to handle because their unhinged, almost alien ways allow them to foster good relationships with the stranger beings aboard their landship.

But also when they have to do anything that eventually will be reviewed by Kal'tsit, the perfect walking disaster in them comes out. They go to Achuahalla and the plane gets shot down by a rocket, then they bring the domestic terrorist with them back as a new employee. They go to Columbia to ink a business deal with Papa John's, then get thrown into jail for allegations of running an illegal drug ring that Papa John's is the distributor for (Doctor's excuse is that "they learned it from you", the perfect reply to piss off Kal'tsit). They return to the ancient sacrophagus that Kal'tsit originally sealed Doctor in, only for Doctor to have a flashback of a completely different woman doing it instead. They go to Siesta for a beach vacation and then leave it having interfered in the sovereignty of a city-state and also got into concert brawls. They go to Kjerag for a ski vacation and leave it having sparked a civil war that resulted in all power being coalesced into the Saintess, because the scion of the Silverash family really, really likes them and wanted to force them into helping him seize power.

Kal'tsit and Doctor are supposed to be these two impossibly ancient beings that operate beyond the boundaries of humanity. They're alien almost, in both their strange bodies (does anyone remember that Doctor's blood can be used to heal wounds) and their ways.

But when they actually interact they're the most ridiculously human pair: a long-winded nag and a disastrous buffoon, attempting to raise a teenage girl that's had to be mature enough for all three of them.

#arknights

[wri0thesley]

business dealings - sampo x reader (3.5k)

sampo's line of work has given him a lot of experience in getting what he wants.

cw: corruption kink, naive virgin reader, sampo is manipulative n kinda sleazy. reader is afab but no gendered terms/language are used. reader is chubby, shorter than sampo. loss of virginity, blowjobs, coming inside.

not sfw, minors dni.

At heart, Sampo is a businessman.

He knows what he wants - generally, as much shield as possible - and he's willing to do almost anything in order to get it. Bartering, trading, a little bit of illegality (it's only illegal if he gets caught, after all) - talking his way both out of and into things. 

So when you'd looked at him, with your eyes all pretty and big and doe-like, admiration leaking into your tone as you asked him about what the underworld was really like . . . he'd decided that what he wanted next was . . . well. You. 

It’s surprisingly easy. 

Easy, because you’re malleable and naive to the ways of the more . . . nefarious sides of society. You’ve never had to worry about stepping foot out of your comfortable life, beyond the vague threat of the Fragmentum and the Eternal Freeze that bothers every citizen of Belobog. But your life within the city isn’t threatened; you look at the Silvermane Guards with respect and awe, but you don’t honestly believe yourself in any danger. And because of that certainty that bad things will not happen to you, you’ve developed quite a cute interest in those other things - like Sampo, and his trips to the underworld, his easy way of slipping between things, his adventures and the embellished stories he tells you. And you’ve become quite easy to get information out of, on top of all of that - anything to help Sampo out, after all. 

Oh, you’re adorable. 

He thinks about you a lot, when he’s embroiled in another danger he brought upon himself - imagines how to spin it so he’s the hero, and you look at him with those wide eyes and your mouth open, lips soft and kissable in the glow of the heat lamps, and you breathlessly say; “Oh, Mr Koski!” in that awestruck little tone he cannot get enough of. 

He thinks about you a lot, too, alone in his bed at night with one hand wrapped around his cock and his back arching. He thinks about the shape of your body beneath your clothes; the ample curve of your chest, the wide contour of your hips and how perfectly they would fit in his grip if you were beneath him. The fullness of your cheeks and lips, and how they would look wrapped around his length - the soft noises you’d make as he pushed it in just a little further than you could handle. 

He thinks, perhaps, he should feel guilty about it. The thing in your eyes when you look at him is almost hero worship. But Sampo Koski did not get to where he is by way of self-reproach, and surely one wants to help out their heroes when they can? 

So he does what he always does. He sets his plan in motion. 

And if this plan does not end in shield, but in someone sweet wrapped around his finger, thighs wrapped around his hips, mouth wrapped around his cock? Well. It’s a plan nonetheless, and Sampo has never been a man who says no to the spoils of his own schemes. 

He starts only small. 

Bends his head closer to yours when the two of you talk, making sure that you’re made entirely aware of the breadth of his shoulders and his biceps, the peek of his bare chest beneath his complicated (but fashionable--) outfit. Allows the sharp emerald of his eyes to wander, just enough to be appreciative - just enough that he can sense how your cheeks heat, how you twist your fingers shyly into the fabric of your garments. 

Lets his hand wander to a place that skirts the edge of being respectable; your waist, but almost your hip. The dip of your lower back, but so close to the tantalising curve of your rear. Your cheek, but so so close to the delicate pulse beating in your throat that he sees how it speeds up at his touch. 

Pays you compliments, thrown out as casually as a breath but aimed to strike at the heart. How pretty you look today. How much he appreciates your time together. How you’re always the highlight of his time on the surface - how he simply couldn’t imagine not coming to see you. You respond, as he knew you would, with eager little soft-voiced entreaties about how you feel the same, how much you appreciate him, how you’re always so happy to see him. How you just love having the chance to help him.  He knows that the time is ripe when he catches your chin in gloved fingers and smiles down at you and says, his voice carefully pitched like affable velvet;

“And what if I asked you for your help with something else, sweetheart?”

Your eyes go all big and wide. Even through the fabric of his gloves, he can feel the heat that has risen to your face. There was never any doubt about it, but he’s glad to have the confirmation even so - you’ve been nursing an innocent crush on him. 

It won’t be so innocent when he’s done with you. 

“Mr Koski,” you say to him, your voice squeaking with nerves. He can see, again, the quick beating of your pulse - the eager-to-please nature that makes you such a thrillingly delicious prospect to have in his bed. That hopeful look that you can be of use to him. He wants to ruin you. He loves the way you say his name. “Of course, I’d do anything you asked me to!” 

He chuckles at you affectionately and leans in so close he can feel your breath against his lips. You tremble under his touch even now - he can’t wait to see how you’ll tremble under his clever fingers later on, when he has you somewhere more private. You look into his eyes with the breathless delight of someone having a fantasy come true. Naive little thing. Still. It wouldn’t hurt for him to play the gentleman just a tiny bit longer. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, chivalrous as he wants you to think he is. Your lips part, and he thinks about choking you on his cock even as you go giddy inside over the concept of your first kiss.

“Yes,” you breathe - and Sampo’s lips meet yours. They curve into a smile as you kiss back - unsure, prim, pure as the driven snow. 

Sampo’s plan has been a great success. 

He’s going to get what he wants. 

He takes you somewhere that he knows will not ask questions. The Goethe Hotel is not an option, but a man like Sampo doesn’t get where he is by not having connections - connections who will not ask about the pretty, wide-eyed Overworld denizen who’s clinging to his hand so tightly, looking around like they’ve found themselves in a storybook. You don’t even have the sense to ask him where he’s taking you - you’re all caught up in the romance of his kiss, the sweetness of his compliments, and the fact that your daydreams are coming true. 

“You wanna make me happy, don’t you?” He asks you, thumb skating over your cheek, and you nod at him with a sweetness that makes his teeth ache. “Come here, sweetheart. Pretty thing.” 

You shiver under his touch like a shy flower blooming, petals soft and untouched by human hands. You whisper out his name when his fingers find the buttons of your outfit, your skin going hot and nervous - but he makes soft little noises of comfort, reassuring you even as you’re bared before his eyes. He can barely stop himself throwing you onto the bed and having his way with you. 

“Look at you,” he says instead, as you stand before him all shivering and hopeful and naked. “You’re gorgeous.” You press your thighs together at the compliment, teeth biting into the plumpness of your bottom lip. His hands slide over you appreciatively, pulling you closer to where he sits on the bed. He maps out those same places that have haunted his wet dreams; all of those curves, the plumpness of your thighs and your stomach, the weight of your chest in his hands as he swipes his thumb over your nipples and you make a sweet little noise of surprised desire that makes his cock throb in his trousers. 

“C’mon,” he says, with that crooked smile that makes fireworks go off in your stomach. “Would Sampo hurt you, sweet thing?” You shake your head, immediately - even now, you’re unwilling to think the worst of him. You’re perfect. “Get on your knees. I’m gonna teach you somethin’.” 

It’s a scene right out of his nighttime fantasies when you hesitantly sink to your knees. Your desire to please warring with your desire to hide. But oh, do you look lovely down there. 

“That’s right,” he practically purrs, stroking your cheek. He feels giddy with the power of it all as he looks down at you - and as he unzips himself, you stifle a gasp and he feels his cock twitch in his grip. He’s proud enough of what he’s packing, but he sees it through your eyes and wishes he could take a photograph of you right there and then. Hesitant and eager and shy all at once. “Open your mouth for me, hmm?”

Obediently, you do exactly as he asks. One of his hands fastens about the back of your head, keeping you in place - you start but do not fight it, looking up at him with your expression utterly open and guileless. You trust him, and the thought makes a ripple of pleasure go down his spine. Your tongue is pink and wet in the lamplight. 

“Good,” Sampo praises, and your skin heats again. He guides himself into your mouth - you make a soft noise of surprise, but don’t pull away - your eyes stay locked on him, an unspoken question in your eyes. Am I doing this right? Is this good? Are you happy with me, Mr Koski? “Use your tongue for me, sweetheart. That’s right. You’re doing great.”

You look up at him from between his thighs and he lets out a muffled groan of pleasure as your tongue swipes unsurely over the head of his cock. You’re so cute down there. Even better than he imagined. There’s no satisfaction like a plan that’s going off without a hitch - and as you manage to swallow down even more of his cock, as a trickle of drool escapes from the corner of your mouth and your eyes go watery with the effort, he can’t help but cant his hips into you.

“Shh, shh,” he says, as your eyes widen in surprise and you almost try and pull back. His hand stays in place on the back of your head. That look on your face is going to keep him company through some very lonely nights. “I’m only doin’ that because you feel so good, sweetheart. Don’t stop, okay? You’re so good for me. Perfect.”

The last comes as you bob your head, tongue tracing the veins of his shaft - he relaxes his grip just enough for you to carry on the movement. Sampo lets a sigh fall from his lips as he enjoys the wet tightness of your mouth around him, the hesitant licks. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate someone who knows exactly what they’re doing in a blowjob - but something about you, and this? Something about knowing he’s the first man to have your mouth like this, to guide you through these motions? Nothing could compare. 

He almost doesn’t want to pull out. He almost wants to keep going - to see your surprise when he comes in your mouth, to implore you to swallow and call you such a good little thing, to shower you in praise until you’re dizzy and drunk from it - but . . . ah. Who knows when he’ll have the luxury of this much time with you again? And you keep shifting on your knees, your chest heaving, surprised by your own arousal . . .

It would be a hard heart indeed that didn’t let you have the full experience, and Sampo Koski is a soft touch. 

“D-did I do a bad job?” You babble, as he pulls his cock out of your mouth. It slaps softly and wetly against the plump fullness of your cheek and Sampo swallows back more thoughts of hitting your pretty face with it until you pout and beg him to put it back in, to choke you on it, to ‘please please please let me make you come Mr Koski--’

“Nah,” he says, affectionate and easy. “Not at all, sweetheart. I just . . . have other things I want to show you.” Your face is open and hopeful as he leans down again and takes your jaw in his hand. “Tell me something.”

“Anything,” you breathe to him, and he thinks that he could make you spill every secret in your pretty little head right there and then. 

“Are you wet for me, angel?” 

Your eyes widen, and he chuckles again. Your gaze flutters shyly around the room, away from Sampo’s own - but he doesn’t let go of your chin. He jerks it just so; not too hard, just enough to be playful. He doesn’t really need you to say it - not from the reaction you just had - but . . .

“C’mon,” he says again, smiling crookedly. “Tell me. I’m not gonna think less of you.”

You swallow. He raises one eyebrow.

“Do I need to check for myself?” He asks you, and shoots you a wink. “Stand up.” You follow the order helplessly, breathlessly, still just a little too shy to put word to the feelings that Sampo is pulling forth from you. His hand slides over the fullness of your thighs, and you reflexively push them together and win another laugh from him. “Don’t be shy,” he says. “Spread your legs. C’mon. I’ll be upset if you aren’t, y’know!”

You let out a slow breath as you follow his order and his palm curves around your thigh, as his fingers slide up and tease the seam of your sex - and Sampo follows suit, a satisfied exhale as he finds you hot and slick. He lets his fingers slip between the plump lips of your sex and wins a soft little ‘oh!’ of surprise, a flutter of your lashes. His cock twitches again. 

He fondles you for a few moments; lets his middle finger slide to your entrance, tease it and draw circles around it. You bite your lip again, but you spread your thighs further apart to allow him better access, breath hitching as he slides just the tip of one finger inside of you. His smile doesn’t falter as he looks at you. 

“Sweetheart,” he says to you, voice like smooth silk. He sinks his finger in further, to his knuckle - you’re tight but wet, and you take it easily. “You’re soaking.”

“I--I--” You falter, almost ashamed, and Sampo lets his eyes go half-lidded. There’s a whine to your voice that Sampo knows well. “Mr Koski--”

“Sampo,” he corrects you. His smile is rakish. “Mr Koski’s cute and all, but . . . not when I’ve got my fingers buried inside of you, yeah?”

“Sampo,” you breathe out, and he gently moves his finger; pumps it in and out of you a few times and enjoys the sight of your thighs flexing, of your body shivering. Your nipples are hard in the cool air, the tremble of your body a siren’s call to throw you onto the thin little mattress. He lets his thumb ghost across the swollen nub of your clit and you let out a strangled noise of pleasure, a whimper that’s so close to a moan he can taste it. 

“That’s right,” he says. “Let’s get you on the bed.”

You’re pliable to all of his pushing, all of his touching - obedient to a fault, as he kisses your cheeks and props your hips with pillows and lets his hands stroke all over your body, learning the most sensitive places. The soft noise of surprise when he digs his thumbs into the indent of your waist, the inhale when he grasps your hips, the flutter of your lashes when his lips brush across your stomach . . . he commits them to memory. Part of the fun of taking someone as sweet as you is teaching them all the pleasures they didn’t know their body was capable, and Sampo is a thorough man. 

You tremble for him so sweetly, when he finally has you caged beneath him. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, again, and delights in the way you shiver, the shy way you pull away from his gaze. “Don’t hide.” The rub of the head of his cock through your slit, wetting himself in your slick, makes you squirm hot beneath him and gasp in surprise. He repeats the motion, swirling the tip of him against your clit, until you whine and your thighs twitch and he wonders if he could make you come just like this.

Right now, though . . . he doesn’t have the patience. 

Your hands curl into the broad muscle of his shoulders as he splits you open on his cock. You cry out, but it’s a noise that’s a culmination of pleasure and surprise as well as just a little sting, and Sampo commits it to memory the same way he tries to commit the velvet cling of your walls and the tight heat and the feeling of you, letting him take you in every way possible. 

“Sweetheart,” he says to you, his own words getting lost as months of fantasies and pining and imagining you come rushing to the forefront of his mind. “You feel incredible--”

He might say more. It’s hard to keep track of anything when he gets lost so quickly in the pounding of his cock against your walls and the way you gasp and cling to him as he fucks into you more desperately than he realised he was going to. You’re vice-tight about him, utterly willing to give yourself up and let him show you what to do. He has the sense to slip one hand between you both to play with your clit as he fucks you - Sampo Koski is a gentleman, thank you very much, he might be taking advantage of your naivety but obviously he’s going to make you come, dammit - and you respond to him with helpless, brainless whines and little thrusts of your hips. 

You’ve never felt like this before. You’ve touched yourself a few times - thought of Mr Koski a few times, if you’re honest with yourself - but this is new. The feeling of something thick stretching you out, of a handsome man above you sighing and whispering out your name . . . The delicious feeling, too, of doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

Your orgasm hits first, your body unused to the touches of someone who knows what they’re doing. Sampo is ruthless as you gasp out his name--

(“Mr Ko-- S-Sampo--!” - somehow, the way you trip over the title and replace it is even better than just hearing his name issue forth from your pretty mouth). 

His fingers don’t stop working over your clit even as you come, your channel pulsing around him wildly, your spine arching and a cry that’s pure pleasure working itself loose from your throat. All that your peak does is drive Sampo on, teeth grit, hips hungrily fucking into you until he feels himself twitch and his balls draw in tight and hot. 

He should pull out. The thought tickles the edges of his consciousness; that he should let his release splatter all over your thighs instead of filling you up with it, letting himself keep fucking it shallowly into your tight little cunt with the weak aftershocks pushing him to carry on thrusting--

But . . . oh. The thought of you beneath him, fucked out and leaking his come. Your virgin sex full to the brim with him, claimed and taken and filled . . . 

Sampo groans out your name and shoots rope after rope of his own release inside of you, losing track of anything but the feel of your body and the feeling of conquering something uncharted. 

You lie there beneath him, big pretty eyes blinking up at him, cheeks wet with tears of pleasure and surprise and over-stimulation. Your chest heaves against his, your heart rabbiting. Both of your skins sweat-slick where they press against one another. 

You look up at him like a hero who’s hung the moon and shown them a brand new world, and Sampo looks down at you like you’re just the cutest damn thing you’ve ever seen, committing the sight of you - fucked for the first time, ruined for the first time, claimed for the first time, and all by him - to memory. 

“You did great,” he says to you, and kisses you softly on the forehead. “Thanks for the help, sweetheart.”

He knew what he wanted, and he got it. But looking at you beneath him, remembering all the things he’s fantasised about, taking in how your hero worship doesn’t seem to have ebbed even the slightest bit . . . 

Business deals don’t have to be a one-time thing. 

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #sampo smut #sampo x reader #corruption kink cw #writing #i am sorry the game has bewitched me #not sfw text #hsr posting #hsr x reader #hsr smut #chubby reader posting

[janeyseymour]

Landslide

Summary: Melissa's doing a lot of self-reflection while she ponders about what the future might hold for the two of you.

Feel free to listen to my cover of the song too!

WC: 1.95k

Melissa Schemmenti has been through a lot- there’s no two ways about that statement. She’s had plenty of rough seasons, and they’ve shaped who she is today. And then you came crashing into her life the day that you quite literally tripped and fell walking into her during the first day of development at Abbott your first year. Your mere existence threw her into an existential crisis, and that was before the two of you started dating. And now? She’s contemplating asking you to marry her (how you managed to get her to rethink her entire outlook on life, love, and marriage without your realizing it is beyond her). With this revelation of hers that she might want to get married again, she’s doing a lot of reflection of the course of her life.

I took my love, I took it down. I climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills, til the landslide brought me down.

She used to wear her heart on her sleeve. That’s actually how she fell in love with Joe. It was a typical school girl crush in the eighties when she met him in an entry level writing course during college that everybody was required to take in order to graduate. They fell in what she thought was love and got married far quicker than she had ever expected herself to do. She had climbed that mountain, and she almost made it to the top. But then, their marriage had turned into the situation that she had promised herself she would never be in. She turned around, and as she began her trek down, she saw her reflection in what was now a snow covered hill. She saw the way that this experience changed her, and she knew that she would never be the same again- not after what Joe had done. And then the landslide brought her down, and she had fallen from what felt like the highest peak, and she found herself in one of the lowest valleys.

Oh, mirror in the sky: what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Building herself back up to be as much of the Melissa Schemmenti that she knew and missed was a process, and the redhead knew that it was always going to a little different than it once was.

Melissa found herself looking up at the sky quite often, feeling a sense of serenity when the sun in the sky shone on her face or when the droplets of water that fell from the clouds trailed down her face and she couldn’t quite tell what was rain and what was tears. It was freeing and made her feel as though everything might just be okay.

The redheaded woman was looking up at the sky on a rather cloudy and dismal day as she wandered through the city aimlessly when she finally decided to ask herself what love really is.

Melissa came to the realization that day that she had no idea what love was. Her mother and father certainly didn’t have the love story everyone yearned for- no, they ended up divorced by the time the redhead was ten. She remembers hearing their fights, the cursing and tears, while she lay in bed trying to fall asleep. A part of her had died in those years, and she truly wondered in that moment if the inner child within her heart could ever rise above and find love- true, real, and natural love that wasn’t forced or expected of her.

The woman walked through the city without a destination, wondering if she could handle the changing ocean tide of being in a marriage to being single again. Could she handle the different seasons of her life that were yet to come? She supposed she made it this far, so she can’t give up now- if anything to spite whatever God was trying to make her life a living hell.

Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.

That night, Melissa went back to the small apartment in the middle of Center City Philadelphia that she couldn’t quite yet call a home. She stood out on her balcony, eyes focused down on the streets below her. Somewhere, Joe was roaming those streets looking for his next booty call. And in that moment, she realizes that she needs to change her ways- it’s been two months that she’s been moping around since the divorce was filed.

But she was terrified of change. She had built this whole life around Joe and his friends and family,  and she lost it all in an instance when she caught him in their bed with another woman.

With time, Melissa’s heart healed and mended itself- the only true remedy for heartache and heartbreak. And in that time, she grew to love where she worked at Abbott Elementary. She grew bigger and bolder, back into the woman that didn’t put up with shit and marched to the beat of her own drum.

Years passed, and the redhead found herself watching her first class graduate from Abbott. Only then did she realize that even children grow and get older- onto their new chapter, and then in a few short years she would find herself at their high school graduations cheering and clapping for them among their families.

But Melissa Schemmenti was like family to some of those kids- like a second mother, or even a first mother in certain cases. And she would continue to be there for them.

Only after she enters the door to her townhouse that at least somewhat feels like a home to her now does the second grade teacher realize that she too is getting older. 

And then you came around. You started working at Abbott when Melissa was finally settled into her own being and she was happy with where she was in life. And you came and shook that all up in your flowery sundresses and bright smile. You turned her world upside down with your infectious positivity and sunny disposition. The redhead who wore mostly muted colors with her pleather pants and leather jacket started to wear brighter colors again, because you unintentionally made her see the world like she was living in technicolor.

And after a few months of you working there, the two of you began to see each other romantically. You brought out parts of the hardheaded second grade teacher that she thought she would never see again, yet she was still Melissa. She was still the woman who knew a guy and wasn’t afraid to back down from a bare knuckle fist fight or to bring out her bat to destroy someone’s car who wronged her. You found yourself loving that. You also found yourself loving the way that Melissa would turn soft for you in an instant if you needed it. You knew she was the woman of your dreams, and the redhead felt that too oddly enough.

And so, here she is in her classroom as she waits for you to finish up a meeting with Malik’s parents and doing some self-reflection again as she wonders if maybe you are the miracle that she’s been waiting for her entire life- if you are the one true, real, natural love that she’s been looking for. If you’re the one that she’s going to throw caution to the wind for and get married to.

Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.

She’s been afraid of change her entire life. Melissa Schemmenti thrives off of routine and the things that she knows to be true in the world. But you came and shook everything up, and she’s built her new life around you now. Is she willing to change everything if a second marriage of hers goes south again?

But… time has made her bolder. Time has shown the redhead that no matter what happens, she’s resilient- she’ll make it through. And genuinely, she isn’t so sure that she would hate the change of being married again, as long as it was to you. 

Time passes around her slowly as she looks around her classroom and realizes just how much has truly changed since she started teaching you and even just in the past few years that you’ve been in her life.

The kids that she started out with are onto the real world, they’ve grown up. They’re off creating their lives, creating families and raising beautiful children that are now wandering through the halls of Abbott themselves.

The practice of teaching has changed and evolved as Melissa’s been here, and while she’s always been afraid of change, the redhead realizes that she’s always been changing and growing to fit the standards of the time in order to give her students the best education she can.

And you? You’ve brought a new sense of life and passion into her world… she’s getting older, she’s aware of this. Maybe you’re worth the potential landslide that could take her out again. She doubts you will- you’re nothing like her ex-husband in the slightest. And that gives her hope. The lingering fears though stay with her, because much like you’ve shaped her, so have her past experiences. 

Oh, take my love, take it down. Oh, climb a mountain and you turn around. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide brought me down. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide bring it down.

Melissa’s worn her heart on her sleeve when it comes to you. And so far, she hasn’t had to take it down. You’ve both climbed the mountain, but neither of you have turned around. She saw her reflection as she climbed up, and she’ll be quite frank: she still glances down at the snow-covered hills occasionally when a moment of self-doubt and self-worth takes over. But she doesn’t think that the landslide will ever bring the two of you down.

And so, she opens her phone and pulls up the number of one of her guys.

“Jack? I think I need a ring,” she says into the phone lowly, praying to God you aren’t coming around the corner. 

“For?”

“I think I found the future Mrs. Schemmenti,” Melissa reveals with a soft smile on her face. “I’m done letting the landslide bring me down.”

“Meet me tomorrow after work, and I’ll have a few things picked out for you.”

She hangs up the phone with a smile.

You walk into her classroom a few moments later, bags slung over your shoulder.

“Hey, babe,” you sigh. “You ready to go home? I’m beat, and I need some relaxation and Desperate Housewives.”

Melissa chuckles softly as she stands from her desk chair and grabs her own bag. She stretches to peck your cheek before taking your left hand in her own. Subconsciously, she rubs her thumb on your ring finger as she thinks about the meeting that she has tomorrow with her guy. 

Melissa Schemmenti has always been afraid of change… always wanted to heal that inner child of hers that used to look up into the night sky and wonder what love was. And here she was, changing for you and knowing what love truly felt like.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #singing #guitar #landslide cover

[short-honey-badger]

Shore Leave

Summary! Captain Lasky orders the Master Chief a two week shore leave. Overwhelmed by his lack of armor and unused to the flow of civilian traffic, he parks himself on a bench and meets you.

Pairings! Master Chief x Reader

Set after the events of Halo 4 and influenced from my love of the game and how good season 2 of the TV series. I wanted to try my hand at something new. I hope you enjoy.

Part 2 -> HERE Part 3 -> HERE

Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra 117, or John to his friends - the few he had left, cautiously strode through the throngs of civilians. Captain Lasky had ordered him a full two weeks shore leave, no combat, no weapon, no MJOLNIR. Lasky had suggested he take some time to himself, grieve if he needed to after fighting for so long with little reprieve in between battles. To be honest, John wasn't sure what he should do with his time. Despite being one of the last of the original Spartans, the chief had hardly ever been completely alone.

Cortana. She'd always been there, a soft hum in the back of his mind, and John wasn't proud enough to admit that he felt a little lost without her.

Even though the armorless spartan towered above the crowd, he began to feel surrounded, overwhelmed with how densely packed the city was. He wasn't used to being out of his armor, and it made him feel naked, vulnerable in a way that John didn't like. Luckily, he spotted a bench not too much farther away, situated at the beginning of what looked like a small park. John sat heavily, back straight and blue eyes casting around as he took deep breaths to regulate his breathing.

No one bothered him, and John took the time to watch the hoards of civilians go to and fro. He watched couples hold hands, and families carefully guide their children along the sidewalks, each man and woman heading to whatever their destination may be. After a while, and now that John had been able to relax a little, he realized that he enjoyed watching the flow and allowed his mind to wander.

Could he ever have something like this? Such a mundane and easy life, never worrying if the next battle he faced would be his last. If he would ever see his brothers and sisters again? Would he ever live such a simple existence where his only fear is missing the train? The Master Chief doesn't think that he could, not when so much of himself has been lost to war and death. Not when it was his duty to protect the civilians here so that they could have that life.

“Sir, you've been sitting here a while now. Can I help you with anything?”

John is brought out of his thoughts by the soft voice. He turns his head and sees that you have somehow snuck up on him, and he silently berates himself for not noticing. However, you had asked him a question, and the Chief didn't want to come off as rude.

“No, ma'am. Just…watching,” He says slowly, and he feels his cheeks heat up a bit. Was that odd to say? John didn't know, but he felt reassured when he spots the smile that curled your lips.

“Well, good. I don't think I’d be strong enough to haul you anywhere if there was something wrong,” you say, and huff a little at your own words.

John doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't have any kind of experience with civilians, not like this, anyway. He wracks his brain for something to say and wishes that Cortana was still here to walk him through this.

However, you don't seem to mind his silence. Instead, you sit back on the bench and look out at the busy stream of people. You are quiet for a while, but the spartan is prepared when you speak up again.

“I like to people watch too. Makes you feel a little less alone in the universe, ya know?” You say and grin again, suddenly scooting down the bench to sit beside the big man who seemed far too lonely when you'd seen him outside the café across the street.

John tenses, not expecting to have you so close, but he doesn't deny that feeling the heat from where your arm is pressed into his feels…nice. He nods slowly, agreeing with your quiet statement.

“It makes you realize that you aren't the only one out there having a hard time, or becoming successful, or even falling in love. We are all human, and even if it doesn't seem like it, we're all in this together,” you pause, and then your smile becomes a bit mischievous.

“And it's kind of fun to make up stories about them.”

John blinks, a bit confused about that. He turns and looks down at his guest, feeling his cheeks heat up again when he sees you looking right back, eyes cheerful and face far too close to his own. He looks away quickly and sits up straight from his slight slouch.

‘What do you mean?”

Bravely, you lean into his space and gesture subtly at an older couple that are walking down the sidewalk, a heated discussion going on between them. The man looks annoyed as his wife babbles on about who knows what, and you giggle softly and say.

“She's probably upset because her husband - they are definitely married, by the way - forgot to take out the trash. Look at him, he's heard this a thousand times.”

John takes in the look of fond exasperation that paints the older man's expression, squinting his eyes to try and see it the way you are. It doesn't make much sense to him, but he thinks he understands.

You poke your new friend in the arm and nod your head at a gaggle if girl's who are giggling and fawning over a data pad.

“They're probably looking at the cute boy who invited one of them to prom. Or maybe a famous celebrity crush.”

You point out a few other civilians, and one or two of your little stories get the stoic man to crack a tiny smile, and eventually relax again, even with you pressed so close to his side. It feels good to have someone near. Someone who can so easily take up the quiet space that he still isn't used to feeling. The Master Chief finds that he rather likes your company and would like to know more about you.

John finally speaks up again when there is a lul in the rather one-sided conversation, turning to face you completely.

“Do you think you could show me more?”

You take in the careful way he asks, the soft timbre of his voice, and you find yourself nodding easily, and you offer your hand, introducing yourself properly.

“I'd love to. My name is _.”

The Spartan carefully takes your offered hand and marvels at just how small it is compared to his own. He meets your gaze, his blue eyes striking in the city lights.

“My name is John.”

#reader insert #fanfic #fluff #halo #halo tv show #halo universe #halo 4 #halo combat evolved #master chief #john 117 #john #master chief x reader #john x reader #people watching #emotionally stunted #reader

[imyourbratzdoll]

Ooh ohh! DarkSiren reader x pirate ransom!!! Pleasee

hello honey! this was fun to write, and I hope you like it!

summary - you are the siren that wants the famous pirate ransom drysdale, and the moment you get close to getting what you want, the universe decides otherwise.

warning - slight angst, stalking, dark content, mentions of whores, seducing, mentions of kidnapping.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You had known of the famous pirate that roamed the seas. You had followed him, watching from afar as he ordered his crew around. You watched as the many whorish human women tried and failed to gain his attention. Some only managed to get to his bed and were sent off the same night. You could see how dissatisfied the pirate was. As if he yearned for something more, something… Unique. You watched from the shadows. Your body is submerged deep in the cooling water. You knew that the humans had heard and created stories based on what you were, some even hunted you, and sometimes they succeeded in catching your kind. Your sisters had been taken, locked away to be experimented on. 

You wanted the pirate. He was a dream. You wanted to claim him as your own. So you followed him the next morning, not getting too close to the ship as you didn’t want the others to spot you. You had a plan, knowing he sometimes ventured off alone once they reached land, enjoying time to himself. What better way to finally get what you want. You swam to shore, perching yourself on a rock away from the pirates but close enough to get the one you want to hear you. You waited until you heard him approaching the area, his mind elsewhere. 

“Upon one summer's morning, I carelessly did stray,

Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay,

Conversing with a bouncing lass, who seem'd to be in pain,

Saying, William, when you go, I fear you will ne'er return again.”

You watch as he turns to look in your direction. You can see him slowly fall under your spell as the words flow from your lips. You beckon him over, giving him an innocent smile as you don’t want to set off any alarms in his head. The pirate begins to make his way over dazedly, a lovestruck look in his eyes.

“His hair it does in ringlets hang, his eyes as black as sloes,

May happiness attend him wherever he goes,

From Tower Hill, down to Blackwall, I will wander, weep and moan,

All for my jolly sailor bold, until he does return.”

He stares, softly swaying as you continue to sing. Your siren voice makes the song sound smooth and seductive, calling to the pirate like water calls him. You sound like the waves crashing against the rocks and birds singing. You sound like perfection to Ransom. You were both a pirate’s dream and nightmare, all mixed in one. In the back of his mind, he knew he should try to fight this, that Ransom was in danger if he continued getting closer to you. He was captivated, his eyes taking in how beautiful you looked, your hair flowing freely in the breeze, your skin glistening against the sun, your breasts pushed together perfectly, and your tail was so close to perfection, the gold reflected wonderfully against it all. 

“My father is a merchant—the truth I now will tell,

And in great London City in opulence doth dwell,

His fortune doth exceed ₤300,000 in gold,

And he frowns upon his daughter, 'cause she loves a sailor bold.”

Your voice travels, swirling around his head and pulling him closer to you. You were so close to finally getting the man you have been wanting. You grin as you reach your hand out and stroke his cheek, sighing a soft sigh as you finally feel his flesh against yours. He had to be the cleanest pirate out there, his face clean-shaven and his hair slicked back. You lean closer, your lips nearly touching his as you continue seducing him with your siren song.

“A fig for his riches, his merchandize, and gold,

True love is grafted in my heart; give me my sailor bold:

Should he return in poverty, from o'er the ocean far,

To my tender bosom, I'll fondly press my jolly tar.”

Ransom’s pupils enlarge, causing his blue eyes to nearly turn black. His eyes are half-lidded, and his gaze flickers between your eyes and your plump lips, feeling the deep desire to seal your words with a kiss. His mind was filled with love, wanting to take you far away from the other pirates, wanting you all to himself. His fingertips itched with needing to grab you and take you far away, keep you chained to his bed as he worshipped you. 

“My sailor is as smiling as the pleasant month of May,

And oft we have wandered through Ratcliffe Highway,

Where many a pretty blooming girl we happy did behold,

Reclining on the bosom of her jolly sailor bold.”

A soft whine escapes Ransom’s mouth as you slowly slide off the rock and into the water, grinning as he begins to follow. He steps into the cooling ocean, and his shoes and pants become soaked. You swim back, continuing to sing to him. You were so close to achieving your dream, so very close.

“Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,

While up aloft, in storm or gale, from me his absence mourn,

And firmly pray, arrive the day, he home will safe return.”

Ransom goes deeper into the water, coming closer until your bodies touch, and his hands move to cup your cheeks, stroking them with his thumbs. He sighs, falling deeper and deeper under your spell. No longer worried about the world around him or that he is in incredible danger, Ransom didn’t know that his crew had begun to look around for him, wondering where their Captain had gone for so long. 

“My name it is Maria, a merchant's daughter fair,

And I have left my parents and three thousand pounds a year,

My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,

There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold.”

You are so close, your lips inches away from each other. You sing the last words of your song, knowing you finally have him in the grasp of your hands. Yours and Ransom’s eyes flutter closed as you are about to kiss. But before your lips can touch, there are shouts, men running toward the area you are in. Your eyes fly open, and you snarl. Your cat-like eyes snap to the pirates, hissing as they shout at you, their weapons raised. You look sadly at Ransom, his eyes opened and watching you, and you quickly launch forward, placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth before flying back and deep into the depths of the ocean. You quickly swim away as the pirates begin to throw their weapons and help pull their Captain out of the water. 

Ransom shakes his head, snapping out of the trance he was in and looking out into the water. His men are talking, pulling him from the ground, but all Ransom can focus on is you. You had now taken over his mind, and he didn’t know if it was because of your siren qualities or you. His face sets into a scowl, growling at his men to return to the ship and leave him alone. Ransom shrugs them off, brushing the sand off his clothes and glaring at the water. He watches as your head pops up a ways away. He can tell you are looking in his direction, and the challenge has started. He knows you want him, but now he wants you, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. It’s how he is the better pirate out there. No one can tell him no.

Stories would be told many generations later about the pirate and the siren. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #anon reply #imyourbratzdollwork #ransom drysdale #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans x female reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #chris evans blurb #chris evans character #chris evans drabble #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfic

[averageallogene]

Soulmate Mark!AU (The mark is either be a name or a picture that hints to who the soulmate is)

It is common knowledge in Teyvat that everyone gains a soulmate mark sometime in their lifetimes.

Reader's soulmate mark appears during the night of her most recent birthday, linking her to a certain former Sixth Harbinger.

What is not so commonly known is that the soulmate mark can change; when something happened that not only shatters the affected person's trust and belief in their partner, it also makes them unable to accept their partner anymore.

When Reader catches Wanderer cheating on her with Haypasia, she wakes up the next morning to a new soulmate mark on her arm that matches either Alhaitham, Kaveh, Cyno or Tighnari (who I call the Sumeru 4).

WANDERER ♡⊹˚  Constellations [SFW]

fem. reader (3rd person) ; angst. Soulmate Mark AU. cw for cheating, as well as possibly ooc characters oops- anyway Wanderer and reader don't end up together :( 

3k words.

notes. Alright so as I've stated in my rules, I don't exactly dabble a lot in AUs, however I will make an exception for this since it's been sitting for so long on my askbox. Anyway I hope you enjoy ✧˖°

A soulmate could take on many shapes and forms, as well as hold different meanings. To some, a soulmate was bound to become one's life partner. To others, a soulmate didn't have to implicate romantic emotions, it simply being the other half of a puzzle that completed them on a platonic level. Whichever the case, all were aware that everyone in Teyvat shared someone special, for it was written in the stars. 

Their one and only sign of who it would be came in the form of a small mark, a set of dots and lines that formed their set constellation. It had always been said that in Teyvat, under the stars there was a home for everyone. Everyone is their own unique person, signified by their own constellation that astrologers could reveal. 

To [F/N], her own mark had come on her most recent birthday, at long last. The first thing in order of business was to schedule a meeting with a well known astrologer, hoping to find any other clues regarding her soulmate. It had become an unwritten rule to visit a reader of stars for two things - one, to know one's own constellation. After all, were they to meet their soulmate, they should know to identify it. The other, was to see if any other clues could be gathered regarding their other half. Only a selective few in all seven nations could add information to their search, and as such, consultations weren't cheap. 

Nonetheless, with some of the mora she'd received on her birthday, [F/N] went. The older woman, who'd been incessantly recommended by many of her friends, thoroughly read through the lines that made up her mark, fingertip brushing the skin of her lower arm. She sought guidance with her magic, and after a while, she was finally able to give her what little information she could. 

"Peregrinus." She'd revealed, the word being the title of her soulmate's constellation. It was a strange language, yet it was said it was the language the stars spoke in. "I see a figure… Tormented by past experiences, yet striving to move forth in one's own manner. Constantly moving, constantly uprooting themselves from any one setting."

[F/N] couldn't help but repeat those words in her head that day forward. Peregrinus. Peregrinus. Peregrinus. She dared not ever forget the name of her soulmate's constellation, for it was the key to finding out who they were. When memory began to play tricks on the specific words the astrologer had told her, she even decided to write them down on a simple notebook she carried with herself, patiently waiting for the day she and they crossed paths.

It had been on the Grand Bazaar in Sumeru City. [F/N] wasn't even certain anymore why she'd gone there, it was to get a few things on a list to aid her mother or something. That part of the memory was foggy. What hadn't been foggy however, was the moment she noticed her mark grow in grandeur, as if the stars in the constellation were signifying they were glowing. They were near, so near. 

Her eyes had widened, head darting around as if looking for who it could be. She'd heard of all the stories of her friends, how they had met their soulmate in romantic ways. She wished to have such an encounter, yet amidst the chaos of the bazaar and the wish to not lose them among the crowd, she resolved to shout straight to the point.

"Peregrinus?! Peregrinus!" 

People turned their way, some as if she were mad, others quickly understanding what that meant. Some offered her consoling and encouraging smiles, though most simply continued on with their day.

One single figure stopped, before finally turning in her direction. To her walked a young looking man dressed in elaborate clothes of a soothing blue, his skin like porcelain and eyes piercing, indigo in shade. His very figure, adorned with an elaborate hat, was difficult to miss, especially when she was in such high alert. The expression on his face was difficult to decipher, a small scowl across his pretty features, his eyebrows furrowed before he finally parted his lips. 

"That's my constellation."

Yes, he was her soulmate. Words didn't seem to be his forté, the young man speaking with a gruff tone and words that could appear harsh at first glance. Well, [F/N] didn't take it to heart much, especially when thinking back on the words the astrologer had shared with her - tormented by past experiences, yet striving to move forth in one's own manner. Patience was something she quickly learned to deploy, calmly asking if they could move away to a quieter place. He'd agreed, and before long, he himself had shown his own mark carved on his arm. It was her constellation, the young woman naming it before he'd done so. 

They shared a glance, a sea of emotions streaming through them. Hope, hesitancy, vulnerability. They'd found their one. 

[F/N] had learned quickly her soulmate had no name. He'd had many, in his past, yet none mattered to him. He went by only wanderer, his will to attach himself to the world never quite strong. That was, until she'd come along. In truth, Wanderer had never quite expected he'd find his soulmate. Human life was so fickle after all, and could a puppet truly love? It was one of many thoughts that haunted his head, yet the patience [F/N] showed him sure showed itself to be more stubborn than his own stubbornness. 

In the end, she'd won, and he had opened up the small crack she'd managed to break. Her wanderer slowly but surely shared more about himself, as well as a past name of his. One that he hadn't minded as much. One she quickled fashioned into her own name for him. Kuni. It felt… Odd, to hear her call him by it. It felt…. Strange... Foreignly warm. 

Kuni hadn't ever shared everything with her. It was too much, and the way he'd become overwhelmed was understandable. She never pushed him much, instead allowing him to open up at his own pace. Instead she talked, and shared, and he listened. Despite his rough exterior, he'd proven himself to be a great listener, engaging her in conversation whenever she saw fit. They spent time together, they got to know one another, and eventually, Kuni had grown comfortable around her, at least enough to display public signs of affection such as hand holding. 

Everything felt wonderful. Everything felt complete. 

That was, until everything crashed down. Until her heart was broken in a million pieces. 

"Kuni? Kuni I'm home! My boss told me I could-" [F/N] had announced, only to find their shared house empty. He wasn't in the living room, nor the bedroom, not even in the kitchen. 

Strange, yet it wasn't enough to raise alarm bells. After all, he was free to leave whenever, and he wasn't expecting her to come back so soon. 

So, she waited. And whilst waiting, [F/N] had calmly set the groceries on their kitchen table, sorting everything needed for the dish she wished to prepare. It was one of Kuni's favorites, him having taught her how to cook it. It was difficult perfecting Inazuman cuisine, yet for her lover, there was nothing she wouldn't attempt to do. 

The rice was cooking, and the freshly caught eel she'd bought from the market was prepped. [F/N] was about to begin cooking when she heard the front door open. She couldn't even contain the smile from forming on her face as she cleaned her hands with her apron, grabbing the wooden spoon to stir the sauce before making her way to the kitchen door. There, she heard more than one voice. She stopped, and listened. It was a woman's voice, yet still, she didn't dare even question it. To [F/N], for all she knew, it was a friend! It had been difficult for Kuni to open up for others, and as such, she was more than happy for him. 

"K-"

"Come, it's okay. She's not home." 

The words stopped from coming out, the woman left stunned and frozen. Her eyes focused on nothing but the empty hallway ahead, the previous happiness slowly being morphed into foggy confusion. Giggles were heard following suit, and without even knowing what to do or what to say, it wasn't long until she heard sounds of kissing. It was loud, and obvious. Sloppy. Gross. 

Suddenly everything felt nauseating. Her eyes were glossy, yet despite everything else, she moved. Whether due to denial, disbelief or rage, she wasn't sure. [F/N] simply moved, emerging from the small hallway to gaze up at her front door, wooden spoon still in hand as she pitifully stood there, clothes dirtied from the dish she wished to prepare for him. She stood there, unmoving, glancing up to the man that now stood at her front door, kissing another woman. 

"Kuni?" She finally let out, loud enough for them to hear. Her voice was trembling, the tears pricking her vision. 

She watched as the pair jumped in surprise, him practically shoving the other girl away before eyeing her with a surprised look. A look of guilt. 

"[F/N]-"

"What are you doing? And who is that girl!" She cut him off, her voice fluctuating between anger and sorrow. Her hands hung low, the rage slowly boiling over as she tried to not jump at either of them.

"Look-"

"I thought you'd said she wasn't home." She heard the green haired girl whisper, it being enough to break her.

"How long has this been going on for!? How could you do this!"

"This means nothing, [F/N]." He outright scoffed, baffled that it would make her that angry. 

"What do you mean this means nothing?!" It was the other woman's turn to shout, disbelief on her features. "That certainly wasn't what you told me last time we were together!"

"You piece of shit!" Tears were flowing freely down [F/N]'s face, their voices quickly raising and garnering attention from their neighbors.

A sudden sorrowful confrontation quickly turned into a screaming match, hurtful words being thrown as [F/N] ran down the hallway, arms flailing in an attempt to try and shove them out of her house. 

Kuni's indifference turned to defensive dismissal, shouting back over how she shouldn't be that fucking mad, that it wasn't a big deal, that they were still soulmates. It had been that last one that utterly crushed her beyond belief, the pure anger evident on her face finally seeming to get through him.

"Shut. Up. Don't EVER call me your soulmate again! You talk to me about betrayal yet you have the gall to turn around and do this!" At that point they were outside, their neighbors watching on through windows or open doors as the sight before them unfolded. "Fuck off and stay away from my sight!"

"You're being dramatic, [F/N]-"

"You two better leave before I call the Corps of Thirty." Against all the rage she was feeling, [F/N]'s voice grew lower, colder. It was enough to finally get through them. They were no longer welcome.

And as such, with all eyes watching them in shame, they left. The young woman was left crying inside her house, the women that lived beside her coming to her aid when she felt ready. 

That first night had been rough, and sure enough, many were to follow. Practicing her better judgment, [F/N] managed to not burn Kuni's clothing that same day, instead packing them before leaving them outside for him to take. She couldn't eat, she couldn't relax, she couldn't sleep. She could only let it out, crying for Archons knows how long before her exhaustion took over. 

The following day, she couldn't even dare look upon the damned mark on her arm. She wished nothing to do with him, and at that point, even the house felt suffocating. It still smelled of him, his once comforting scent she'd grown to dislike. Before leaving for work, she remembered to leave her windows cracked open, hoping the breeze would sweep away his scent before she returned. 

It was only during work she'd realized it, how the constellation upon her arm had suddenly changed. While at work she'd accidentally splashed water on herself, prompting her to change out of the long sleeved shirt she had brought to work. She didn't want to look, her eyes actively trying to glance anywhere but there, yet against all her efforts, her gaze jumped to the mark, and there she stayed. The six dots were now rearranged in a new order, the once seemingly symmetrical pattern now forming a new, undiscovered constellation.

Her heart was beating quickly, yet she wasn't sure it was due to good reasoning.

Not again, she thought. 

[F/N] was hesitant to even give it much thought. Her heart was still broken to a million pieces, and it would take time to recover. She didn't really have the same excitement to seek out an astrologer to find out more, instead trying to distract herself. 

Days turned to weeks, weeks passed on and morphed into months. By that point, [F/N] had calmed down, settled in somewhat. Still, she hadn't sought out any answers just yet. The thought still churned her stomach, yet her friends figured it was time for her to move on.

"How about I go with you after work?" A friend had proposed, smiling with encouragement. Fine, she would relent eventually.

"Alright… Only so you guys shut up about it." [F/N] pouted, her friend nodding along in victory. 

Despite not having previously booked their appointment, they managed to successfully get their consultation later that evening. There was a clear lack of enthusiasm in [F/N]'s face, and even the older woman noticed so. Still, she went through with the same ritual, the answers she got prompting her to bloom a smile even prior to revealing them her answers.

She'd murmured the constellation's name, yet [F/N] had only halfheartedly heard it. It was what came after that peaked her interest.

"Discipline, loyalty. A king by their own right." 

Her friend seemed far more giddy than she was. As they left the appointment, she couldn't exactly contain her curiosity.

"Isn't that far more appealing, [F/N]? I mean, a king? Only what you deserve, truly."

"Oh come on, you know how they tend to flower their words." The girl scoffed, a small smile still present on her face regardless. Sure, she wasn't exactly as thrilled as she was her first merry go round, yet still…

Perhaps, this time it would go better.

Days went on by, routine setting in. Work, home, repeat. [F/N] had gotten used to living by herself, slowly mending her own heart before readying herself for another try. 

"Come on now, you're not going back home straight from work again are you?" Her friend had groaned, hands on her hips.

"Well I wanted to relax…" [F/N] pouted.

"I get it, I do, but you have to go out more. Fresh air will do you nice! How about a small walk through the Bazaar and then a stop at Puspa Café? My treat!"

"Ugh, fine…." She groaned, her friend cheering in victory before linking their arms together.

She had to admit, the walk felt… Refreshing. Nice. There was good conversation made, and before long, a treat at the Café was in order. The pair entered before noticing it was rather packed, their eyes looking around whilst looking for a table.

"Goodness, it's packed today. What's the occasion?" Her friend muttered, following the waiter that seated them.

"Ah, there's a small TCG event we're hosting." He explained with a polite smile, before taking their orders.

"Oh right, it's that game that has gotten so popular. Have you tried it before?" She asked her friend.

"Yeah, I have. It's fun, though I only pick it up occasionally." [F/N] hummed, looking ahead to the players while resting her chin on her hand. "Those guys seem to take it much more competitively."

"[F/N]-"

"Besides, it requires a lot of strategy and sometimes you just don't feel like thinking much? Some opponents will think like 5 steps ahead of you, so you really have to be in the zone."

"[F/N]."

"One time my boss found my deck out in the open and had it confiscated, too. That's probably why I haven't played it in a bit though-"

"[F/N]!"

"What?!" The young woman said startled, eyeing back her friend with furrowed brows. "Why are you-"

"Your arm!" 

Slowly, her gaze lowered to the aforementioned limb, eyes finally landing on the constellation that had shown up months before. The dots replicated the same gleam as once they had, signifying that her new soulmate was close, very close. 

"Oh shit…" She whispered.

"What are you still doing here, go on!" Her friend said eagerly.

"Go, go where?! What do you want me to do?" [F/N] stuttered, her face suddenly feeling hot. 

"Oh I don't know, go to where all the people are?! On the other end of the Café!"

"And what am I supposed to do, stop their match to ask if one of them is my soulmate?!"

"Uhm, yeah???" Her friend crossed her arms, huffing impatiently. "Do you want me to do it for you? I know the name of their constellation, after all."

"No need!" [F/N] groaned in frustration, getting up from her seat and glaring at her now grinning friend. "F-Fine, I'll go there!"

With a huff, [F/N] made her way across the Café, slowly and hesitantly reaching the gathered crowd around the match that was apparently reaching its end. Those around the two players watched in awe, commenting on each move performed by the two of them. The young woman tried to remain calm, her eyes shifting around those whose arms were showing in a vague attempt at finding her own constellation marked on one of them. 

"I have to say, it was a wonderful match. Though, I'll have to cut this short." One of them said loud and clear, his fingers picking up one of his own cards before placing it neatly in front of his adversary. "And with this… I believe I win the match."

"Oh, so the General was saving that for the end of the match…. Well played."

"Tsk…. I should've seen it coming." His adversary smiled humbly, nodding his head before the two of them shared a handshake. "Well played, General."

"You were great, too. I'd enjoy playing another round with you, next time."

"Oh, hello miss," A young man, dressed in Akademiya attire reached her side, smiling her way. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh, uh, yes." [F/N] blushed softly, tucking some hair behind her ear. "Is the match finished?"

"Did you wish to witness it? I'm afraid it is… Oh, but if you'd like, I can recap it for you?"

"N-No, that's okay, thank you though!" She shook her hand before gathering up her strength. "I'm here because… Well you see, my soulmate mark-"

"Ooohhh, I see." He was quick to catch on, nodding his head. "Please, feel free to inquire anyone present further, and good luck."

"Thanks…"

It certainly felt odd, reaching everyone so suddenly for such a question. Amidst that group of mostly young men, was her soulmate… She supposed that was enough justification for the way her heart was outright pounding in her chest. 

And thus, her questioning began.

"Uh, excuse me? Is your constellation… Lupus Aureus?" 

"Hi, sorry for the question, is your constellation Lupus Aureus?"

"You don't happen to have your constellation named Lupus Aureus, do you?"

She practically went through every student there, her friend patiently waiting for any outcome by her table. Her face at that point was burning, her heartbeat almost audible to those around her. By the end there weren't many left, and as the General Mahamatra himself was putting his deck away, the young woman took a deep breath and approached him.

Surely, it wasn't him. Surely someone as grand as the General had already found his soulmate, yet it didn't hurt to get it out if the way. 

"Excuse me, General?" Her voice was soft when addressing him, him in turn humming softly before turning her way. "You don't… Happen to have your constellation be Lupus Aureus, do you?" There was silence on his end, prompting her to fill it with more talk. "Sorry, it's just- It's my soulmate's constellation, and while I was here my mark began to glow and… Well…"

The General Mahamatra was still quiet, his gaze piercing hers as his expression didn't shift. [F/N] almost felt like she should expect some sort of retribution for addressing him, his eyes nearly suffocating her with the aura of respect he presented. 

"...Aureus Sirius?" He muttered out in a monotone voice, rendering her rather confused. 

"H-Huh?" She breathed out.

"Aureus Sirius? Because that really is my constellation."

"...." 

She needed time to process it. 

Not the joke, the mere fact that it indeed was his constellation.

"...Get it?" The General mumbled, his face still not shifting. "Aureus because it's part of the name of my constellation, and Sirius because it's another constellation to which it's related to, according to the astrologer I visited."

It was her turn to be frozen in place, completely silent. Her eyes were now fixated on his, incredulous while still processing what he'd just said. The joke was absolutely terrible, and definitely not something she would've expected from the General Mahamatra. Still…. The way he went out of his way to explain it was what had broke her façade, a crack of a smile appearing on her face before she let out a huff of a laugh. 

"Yes… Yes I do get it…"

"Funny, right?" He revealed a hint of a smile. Sure she could deny it, but before she were to say it, he cut her to the chase. "You laughed."

She had… Albeit not for the reason he hoped it was. Still, it felt like all the pressure of the situation had suddenly dissipated.

"I'm [F/N], and-"

"You're my soulmate." He softly cut her off, his eyes suddenly growing softer. It was like he felt relief to have finally found her. "Please, call my Cyno."

Cyno, the acclaimed King of Invocation TCG. Well, sure, turned out he really was a king of his own kind. 

"Oh… Of course." [F/N] gave him a shy but sincere smile, holding her own hands whilst playing with her fingers in nervousness. "...Would you like to have a coffee with me?"

"Of course."

The way he glanced at her… Something in [F/N] told her this time everything would sail much smoother.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin wanderer x reader #genshin impact wanderer x reader #genshin impact cyno x reader #genshin cyno x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #yoko drabbles

[velvetures]

May I RQ a reader who is trying to learn their language to help them feel more comfortable, but feels insecure due to them not really being fluent? They mispronounce and misuse the slangs in context, but hopes they can make the boys see the effort they are trying to go through for them.

Lessons In Miscommunication

A/N: Hi doll, I hope you don't mind me using König for this one. I've got a lot of experience with Spanish irl, but that's not super applicable here, haha. To anyone who's German... please forgive me. 🤍 Summary: You're on comms during a mission getting a small lesson in König's language while waiting for your next orders from HQ. Things get complicated, and there's a language and culture barrier that makes things... challenging. T/W: canonical warfare, cursing, non-fluent use of German, flirting, feelings, and some other stuff probably. Not proofread, as always.

To put it simply, you didn't expect just how difficult it would be to learn a new language in your twenties. Sure the science spoke to the provable trouble you would have compared to a much younger version of yourself, but for all meaningful purposes, you really didn't think it would be this nuanced. And while Spanish, French, and other languages were of great importance, there wasn't anyone who could teach you those. The one person around was König, and he spoke German.

When you'd approached the topic nearly eight months ago, he'd been honestly shocked and surprised that you'd come to him in the first place and secondly that you thought he would be a good teacher. He was often thought of as reliable as a Colonel, but giving you suitable enough tutoring in German to be conversational was nothing short of uncharted territory for the pair of you. This made for very interesting moments in and outside of missions as well as a few times where it would've been better if you'd used an online app or something to keep from unintentionally embarrassing yourself.

Posted almost two miles away from the Colonel on a rocky outcropping overlooking a small encampment of a radical terrorist group, you laid on the hillside with a rifle and radio trying to pass the time between now and when you'd get the call to secure the site. The men and women down below were only one small stop-off point for a far larger caravan of armored trucks and a few tanks carrying supplies and weaponry toward the closest city of Almazra. It was a threat that couldn't come to fruition if the buildings and people still living there were to be left standing by the end of the week.

On the other end of the two-mile distance was König and a selected squad of men who were waiting just as impatiently as you were to not only get this mission over with but to get out of the damn desert heat. For security's sake, you knew you should be keeping the airways clear for any kind of information about the insurgent's movements, but König had insisted that this would be a perfect opportunity for you to get some practice in without losing focus of the task at hand. Your job at the moment was to keep eyes on the encampment through the lens of your sniper rifle and report anything that looked to be of importance.

König's definition of what was important could be easily debatable, yet it did ensure that you could make simple connections between real-world objects and the German words or phrases that matched. Whether or not the Colonel realized it or not, both of you had slightly gotten off the target of what you were supposed to be talking about and wandered into the more... personal aspects of things. Specifically just how bad you wanted to be home after nearly a full month away from American soil and your personal home.

"Ich habe für immer Fernweh," Your accent was certainly progressing, at least in the Colonel's mind, but he wasn't quite sure exactly what you meant by that.

"Was meinst du damit? Kannst du es dieses Mal auf Englisch sagen?"

His voice sounded a little confused and more than a tinge humored at the way you'd sounded so... formal. Even diplomatic to a degree. It was one of the more difficult parts of teaching you. Dialects, slang, and even simple English-to-German translations didn't always have a very direct or clear answer. Often it meant that you would say something with full intention and innocent honesty, and König would have to keep himself from chuckling. Most of the men he worked alongside didn't speak for one reason or another, so getting to hear at least one person -especially you- made the near and far miscommunication more than worth the effort.

Looking through your scope at a group of five sitting around a small fire, you sigh a bit, trying to think of how to explain yourself.

"I meant I'm feeling homesick," You mutter a little more quietly than necessary, almost as if saying it in English was broadcasting your secret while German somehow kept it from being found out. "What did you hear me say?"

König chuckled, his laugh vibrating in the speakers of your comm quite nicely. "You said you have wanderlust forever," You could hear him smiling from the other end. "It's okay, sometimes the words don't always mean exactly what you think they do. I had the same problem when I learned English." For a moment he paused, laughing softly again. "I still can't say Squirrel... properly."

"Vielleicht habe ich doch Lust auf etwas..." You mutter a bit frustrated and somewhat skarkily under your breath, making a small jab at wordplay not thinking that König could hear you over the radio or that he'd be more shocked to hear you say such a thing.

The radio stays silent for a long few minutes, almost tricking you into believing that you'd been safe in making your comment under your breath without any audible witnesses. Only on the other end, the Colonel was struggling between the actual meaning behind your words, the way it sounded so damn sexy... and how he was supposed to actually answer you without sounding too affected by something as simple as your voice.

"Se-Sergeant..." His voice sounded a little weak, much in the same way it did when he was in an uncomfortable social situation. "What did you just say?"

Instantly your body tensed up from fingers to toes and you felt a shock of heat roll through you. König heard you. Right away you assumed by the growl in his question that you were going to be in for some kind of punishment. Maybe even a good ass-chewing in front of the rest of the squad for saying something so easily considered lewd and totally unprofessional to utter in the presence of a superior officer. Your best bet was apologizing, and hoping he'd just let it go...

"I'm sorry, I was just frustrated and-"

His voice deepens over the radio, almost like he's got it pressed right up against his mouth. "Say it again." The command felt heavy in your stomach. "Now."

You repeated the phrase, staring through the lens of your scope with bated breath. waiting to hear what the Colonel would say in response. And the last thing you expected was to hear an almost pained sort of growling sound vibrating in your ears. It made you shiver and despite König being almost two miles away, it felt like he was breathing down your neck.

"Du klingst so hübsch, wenn du das sagst..." A noticeable static over the radio took your attention, but when it didn't get worse you had the mental capacity to translate what König said word by word until you had the full sentence running through your head.

The time between his praise and your response was nearly indistinguishable between seconds and years. Had it not been for you watching your targets moving in real-time through your scope, you would've thought the whole world had come to a stuttering halt in anticipation of your response. Yet it seemed that the world still had to do other important things which included bringing the key turning point of this mission right to your front door with the sudden sound of an approaching squad tailing the convoy of insurgents giving information and callouts for how to proceed forward. Of those, orders for König and his men to begin working down the side of the mountain to intercept the meeting of the convoy and the small ground sitting in tents around a high-burning fire.

"Ich werde später herausfinden, wie hübsch man klingen kann, wenn man schmutzige Dinge auf Deutsch sagt." The Colonel's voice growled lowly, almost threatening in a sense.

There was no telling what would happen after the mission ended and there wasn't a threat of being shot or failing to secure Almazra. What you could count on was König finding you and testing out his theory of all the things you could say in his language they may or may not have been provocative - on purpose or not. Something in your body shivered in delightful nervousness and anticipation of just how he planned on getting that kind of information out of you. A couple of ideas swirled in your mind, but the movement of the incoming convoy didn't allow you the luxury of daydreaming about your Colonel or how your mistaken words and German lessons had landed you here.

Comments and Reblogs are Always Helpful <3

#könig #könig x reader #kortac #konig mw2 #konig cod #anon ask #anon answered #anon <3 #velvetures #velvetures writes

[ana-chronista]

29 for bojere ❤

Apologies for the delay, Anon, but thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy it! (It got very long...)

Waking up the morning after their second Helsinki gig was never going to be a fun experience, but having that knowledge didn’t make it any easier. Bojan groaned, resisting the urge to pull the pillow over his head and block out everything until he ran out of time, and reached for his phone. 9 am. OK, so that was something at least – their ferry wasn’t until the early afternoon, so there was still time before he needed to throw everything in his suitcase and leave Finland behind. Leave Jere behind, you mean, a snide little voice needled him in the back of his mind. Bojan dropped his phone back on the bedside table and at least allowed himself to bury his face in the pillow instead. The other side of the bed was empty but judging by the rattling and clanking coming from next door, Jere was in the kitchen. He’s talking to himself – muttering, really – in that way that Bojan’s learned that he does, narrating his own life in rolling Finnish as he goes about his day. Bojan doesn't do well alone – never has, truth be told – and he knows it. It's why his time as a solo artist was so short lived, and why he'd asked Kris to take Martin’s old room when he moved in with his partner. There's just something comforting about having someone else nearby, even when they're in the next room doing their own thing. For a moment, he lets his mind wander; lets himself believe that this is just a normal morning in a normal day, with nowhere they need to be an nothing they need to do. He can follow Jere into the kitchen, waste time trading lazy kisses with no urgency for them to go further, share a leisurely breakfast just the two of them. They can take a stroll together, binge Netflix, order a takeaway, just enjoy all the time they have together doing the most mundane things. The door creaks, snapping him out of it. Of course, none of that can happen – he's got somewhere to be. Sighing, he turns to look round at Jere, who’s shuffling into the room with a mug in each hand. “Bojan, you're awake.” He pulls himself up so he's sitting against the headboard and nods. The sight of Jere swamped in a hockey shirt and sweatpants, hair ruffled and feet bare, is so domestic that it brings a lump to his throat and he doesn't quite trust himself to speak. If Jere notices he says nothing. He passes Bojan one of the mugs, the one patterned with gaudy orange and pink flowers. He’d presented Bojan with it in the autumn, proudly announcing “It is you” before tripping over the word “shagadelic” three times and dissolving into laughter. The fact that he's remembered and kept this eyesore of a mug safe for his return months and an apartment move later – that it wasn't just a one-off joke – makes his throat hurt even more. For a long moment he just focuses on sipping his scalding coffee and Jere does the same. The silence is almost peaceful, almost not loaded. It’s Jere who breaks it. “I tell Joker guys I get you back in one piece.” Bojan remembers – he was there for every one of the increasingly dramatic promises that Jere had made to his bandmates at the end of each night they’d been in Helsinki. It had started simply enough, swearing that he’d make sure Bojan didn’t spend all night out and about at the city’s clubs (accomplished – they’d gone straight back to Jere’s still-new-to-Bojan apartment) and that he’d force him to abide by vocal rest (debatable – it was probably for the best they’d not run into any of Jere’s neighbours so far), but had gradually morphed into a list of all the possible risks Jere would guard him from, from hysterical fans to rampaging moose to – at Jure’s particular insistence – rabid Moomins.

“So, I feed you and bring you back to hotel. All laundry in case this time, yes?”

Bojan nods again, sipping at his coffee. He’d accepted his errant clothes back from Jere at the start of the trip with just as much ceremony as they’d been presented to him and stowed them away safely already. Of course, if one of Jere’s t-shirts had happened to bury itself in there underneath everything else, he wasn’t going to mention it. "And then me and Hӓӓrijӓ bring you all to ferry to make sure you are there OK. Good plan, yes?” He can see from the corner of his vision that Jere is ducking slightly, trying to catch his eye, and has no choice but to look up. It makes it all the worse, just as he’d known it would. He wonders if Jere will look so calm when they say goodbye. Probably not, even in public at the port; definitely not when they say their real goodbye to each other here before stepping out of the front door. He’s got past evidence to go off of, of course, and knows as soon as he lets everything show in his face he won’t be able to stop. So he just doesn’t. “But then I think you have not been to Tallinn before.” Jere carries on, slow and deliberate and too thoughtful. He’s not quite tapping his chin in consideration, but it’s a close call. “Maybe you not know your way around. You don’t find venue, you miss gig, fans angry, end of band. Not good. Bojan is too pretty not to be star.”

Despite everything, Bojan feels the tug of a smile at the corner of his lips. Jere having an absurd tangent for all occasions is nothing new to him – it was one of the first things that had drawn him to him at the pre-parties, even if the earliest ones had mainly been through gestures and miming – but he can’t help but be amused by it each and every time.

Then Jere is suddenly pulling his phone out from his pocket, swiping through it as he reaches out to put his mug on the bedside table. It takes him a moment to find what he’s looking for, but as soon as he lands on it he’s passing the phone to Bojan with a triumphant “So, I book this.” Bojan blinks at the screen, still cradling his coffee in one hand. It’s a ferry ticket. “You’re coming with us to Tallinn?” It’s there in black and white in front of him, but he can’t help his words still coming out as a question. He checks the timing of the email and sees it came through yesterday just before the end of their gig. It’s clearly a spur of the moment decision and Bojan loves him for it. “Yes, yes. I will be guide for you, me and Hӓӓrijӓ. Show you all the best kebab van and kareoke.” His face splits into a full-blown grin as he passes back the phone. “Alika’s going to be happy to see you too.” Jere nods enthusiastically. “Yes, I think maybe we get big cake to celebrate. And I will jump out for surprise!” And suddenly, with their goodbye pushed back – only by a day, just forty eight hours, but forty eight more hours than we had just a moment ago – it’s so easy to dissolve into laughter, to lose themselves in such a ridiculous idea, to just be them. Bojan is a split second away from asking if Jere knows any Estonian bakers who might be willing and able to whip up a giant decoy cake at such short notice when suddenly Jere gets himself under control enough to swipe again through his phone and hold it out. “But then also I book this.” He accepts the phone again, glances down at the screen and promptly freezes. He feels lightheaded all of a sudden, barely able to make out anything past ‘Helsinki-Vantaa’, ‘Ljubljana’, and ‘5 May’. “Jere, what – ” His voice catches in his throat and all he can do is stare at him, wide-eyed. For his part, Jere is deliberately nonchalant, but Bojan can see the tension in his shoulders blaring his nervousness out to the whole world. “I have album to work on, but only one gig. I check with the guys and they say you have time then. But is just me, not Hӓӓrijӓ, so maybe they are disappointed.” “I can’t believe it – I – ” He shakes his head. There’s too much to say to be able to wrangle it into a sentence or two. “I want this to work. I want that we know when we will see each other, not just...” Jere seems to run out of words, resorting to scrunching up his face and gesturing vaguely, but Bojan knows what he means. “And you come here now three times. I do not make it to London – ” “That’s not your fault, you were busy.” The words may be true and well-worn by now through all the times he’s repeated them to himself and others, but they still weigh heavily in Bojan’s mouth as he swallows down the lingering disappointment he can see reflected in Jere’s face. “But still, I do not come. I do not want you to think I don’t care. I want I see you in your home and be part of your life.” He hesitates slightly, then continues, quieter and less certain, “If... if that is OK.” “OK?” Bojan can’t believe those are actual words that have just left the other man’s mouth. “Jere, that’s... I... yes, I want that too. I just can’t believe it.” Jere’s phone slips from Bojan’s hand as he starts forward, hands cupping Jere’s face and reeling him in for a kiss that tastes of sleep and coffee and him all at once. It ends up not being one kiss so much as several, pressed in quick succession against Jere’s mouth as he sighs and relaxes into Bojan, combing his hair back and trailing down his neck. “I promise this is not the only time.” he murmurs against Bojan’s lips when they part for a second, foreheads pressed together. Their next kiss is deeper, starting slower than the others though it doesn’t stay that way for long as Bojan pulls Jere down again to the mattress with him. Their coffee grows cold on the bedside table, but neither of them notice.

#ana answers #fanfic #bojere

[rosepascal]

Aliit ori’shya tal’din | Din Djarin x Adopted!Reader

summary: Aliit ori’shya tal’din: Family is more than blood

warnings: reader was abandoned at birth so all the things that come with that. A little sad but mostly fluff I swear. Also I use Djarin as his first name because I can lmao. Ngl I totally thought his name was Din but its not and that's how it be.

a/n: hi!! Okay so when I saw that scene I knew I had to write something for it. This fic is very personal to me and I just want to express that I am writing from my own personal experience of being adopted. The feelings that I felt and some of the things that I think. That being said please understand that I do not speak for the experiences of everyone who is adopted. We've all had our different experiences and the trauma is not the same. Anyways I really hope you enjoy this fic <3

Peace. 

For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace. The small cabin in Nevarro was perfect. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had a home that wasn’t a ship. For years you had been running from city to city. Picking up a few odd jobs just in order to survive. Until you met Din Djarin and Grogu.

That asshole Mandalorian came in and wrecked havoc at the tavern you were working at and killed your best customer. You didn’t hesitate to chew him out, not even the pistol in his hand scared you.

He liked that.

The life of a bounty hunter Mandalorian was a lonely one and it often meant that he had to take care of every problem that arose. It was just supposed to be a one time gig. He needed someone who knew the planet and you needed money. But when the bounty was captured and you helped him drag the body back to his ship he changed his mind. Inviting you to stay with him in exchange for credits and a place to live.

You’d be a fool not to accept. So you did. You took his hand and ran. Hopping from bounty to bounty and discovering every corner of the galaxy. He showed you things you could only dream of, and gave you the life you always wished for.

Din Djarin was so much more than just a Mandalorian. For every moment he was ruthless and cold, he was caring and sweet. He became your kar'ta, your heart and you his cyar’ika.

Then you found the kid and somehow your already crazy life got even crazier. But now it’s over, well not over. Bounty hunting was still going to be your life but now it was for the New Republic. 

“Din Grogu!” You shake your head as you look outside the window and see him harassing a few frogs that sit by the pond outside of the cabin. He drops the frogs and turns his head towards you, babbling cutely. Letting out a sigh you walk outside and sit next to him.

“You’re bored aren’t you.” He coos in agreement and looks back to the poor frogs.

“I know, but your father will return soon.” Normally he gets to come with him on his hunts but the latest bounty was far too dangerous and considering you were healing from the last bounty, it was decided for you and Grogu to stay.

“Why don’t we go into town and pick up some fresh food?” His wide eyes look up at you and he nods his little head.

Though he’s old enough to walk on his own, you bring the carrier anyways. Just in case he gets tired. The trip takes longer than you meant it to. With Grogu wanting to stop and eat every colorful thing he saw. You couldn’t say no to him though,  you’d give that kid the world if he asked.

Soon night fell and with no sign of Djarin you knew that Grogu would be disappointed. He watches the window, his ears moving just a bit as if he’s listening for that starfighter.

“Din..” You call and he lets out a small patu. He responded to his full name and just Grogu, but sometimes when you called for Din both of your boys would turn their heads. Smiling, you pick him up and take him outside.

“You really love that name.” Setting him down you watch as he wanders towards an empty area just beside the bond.

Plopping onto the ground and laying on his back. Star gazing, oh you love to star gaze. You saw the stars all the time during your travels, you should be sick of them by now. But the view of the stars from the planet’s surface is something else. There’s blues and purples and stars that shone white, blue, and orange. It’s breathtaking and beautiful and it makes you feel like you could just breathe.

“I’m just like you.” The ground is warm as you lie next to him. He tilts his head, his big eyes staring at you in confusion. He climbs into your arms and cuddles into your side.

“My parents, well I’m not sure where they are now.”

Tatoonie was your home planet. When you were just a baby you were left. Alone. Just a scared little kid, crying and too young to truly understand what was happening. You don’t remember any of it but maybe that’s a good thing. You were found wrapped in a scrap of nice, warm fabric and taken in.

The people who found you, your family, they took you in and raised you as their own. When you were old enough they told you what happened. Even gave you the scraps that you were found in.

Like Grogu you were adopted. You don’t know much about his past. Apparently he was 50 years old but he didn’t speak and acted like a child. All you knew is that you loved him and he was yours and Djarins. 

“I was adopted as a baby,” "Staring at the sky you watch as a star falls, leaving a brilliant white trail,

“Do you ever think about your parents?” You ask him. He only babbles in response.

“I do. Not very often but sometimes when it’s late and I can’t sleep.” He moves his head closer to you and you wrap your arm closer to him.

“But it’s weird right, because they’re my parents but they aren’t my family.” They gave you life and you will be forever grateful for that, but they aren’t your family. Sometimes you wonder why, why they left you. Why couldn't they take care of you? If they even wanted you, but you never let yourself get too far down that spiral.

There’s a phrase in Mando’a. Aliit ori’shya tal’din. Family is more than blood. Family is the child in your arms and the handsome Mandalorian who would lay down his life for you. Family are the ones who take care of you and love you no matter what. This is your family.

“I know you love your father and he loves you so much.” Sitting up you set Grogu in your lap. Admiring his adorable face.

“If you ever begin to doubt your place in this world, know that you belong with us. Jedi or Mandalorian. You are our family.” He coos and reaches his tiny hands for you.

“Never doubt how much you mean to us little one.” Closing your eyes you gently rest your forehead against his.

His hand reaching for your face. He lets out a small squeal at the sound of a very familiar ship zooming past the cabin. He’s home. Standing up you wipe the dust from your pants, watching as the ship lands closely and a very familiar figure appears from the cockpit. His little legs can only go so fast but once he gets close enough he launches himself at his father.

“Welcome home my kar'ta,” You hum happily as he presses his helmet to your forehead.

“I missed you cyar’ika.” He sounds tired as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“We missed you too.” He hums happily as he guides you back to the cabin. He promised that it would be a good amount of downtime before the next bounty which meant plenty of time for just the three of you.

Your Mandalorian, your child. Your family. 

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din grogu

[flaneuresse]

The scent of pine trees by Helena Burgerhout on Flickr.

#flaneuresse #flâneur (n.) #one who wanders the city in order to experience it. #mine #vintage #35mm #photography #photographer #curators on tumblr #curated with care #analog #flickr #film photography #lomo #lomography #disposable #i shoot film #film is not dead #canon #kodak #Fuji #travel #Europe #car #dark vintage #road #rainy #grain

[reeseaisance]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: LIBERICA ┊K.NANAMI X BLACK!FEM!READER

࿐ A rare and exotic type of coffee bean, with a woody and smoky flavour and a floral aroma.

The air was crisp. A subtle sign that Spring was near and every living thing was slowly coming back to life. Yet the sky was painted a deep blue as the streets were filled with a bustle of life, from the pattering of feet against the concrete ground to the chatter of many filling the breeze. Yet here he sat at the corner booth, sipping on his regular order from the popular jazz club, Sensuous, a club that’s been open for many years thriving from its regulars and the artists that wander along the streets of the city. The longer he sat, waiting, the stupider the man felt about the whole ordeal. Was he the only one who took the deal seriously? Was he stupid enough to have believed she would remember a deal that was made over 20 years ago? Maybe he was being optimistic about the whole thing, which was out of character for him especially, considering the man was as stoic as a brick wall, but a piece of him had hope that she wouldn’t have forgotten him. Forgotten them. Taking another sip at the hot liquid that filled his mug, a young man with long, raven-like hair pulled up into a messy bun appeared on stage, “Again, welcome to Sensuous if this is your first time gracing the club and welcome back to the regulars who we love so much. As we all know, tonight is open mic night, but if you’ve been a recurring guest for the last couple of years, you may all know this voice. It’s been a while since we’ve seen this beauty around these parts…” the man paused, glancing at the woman with pure admiration, “Please give her a warm welcome back, Dove.”

The moment that voice rang through the walls, Nanami could feel his heartbeat intensify by the minute. His eyes shot up to be blessed with the sight of her. The woman who has danced through his mind without a care in the world for 2 decades. Her voice, smooth like honey but a smokeness that had men and women drawn by her allure. She knew how to use her instrument in such a way that can convince anyone to do as she pleased within a blink of an eye. Her thick locs styled up into a bun, a few framing her face, before moving down to the olive green silk dress that hugged at her curves without issue, complimenting her coffee hued skin. She was gorgeous, just as gorgeous as she was when they were 19. Oh how time can bless a woman, a phenomenon Nanami only ever thought could be a lie when he was younger, but here she was again proving him wrong, like always. The way she sang into the mic, her airy notes having everyone enthralled in her presence like she used to but her power was much greater, indeed it was. With age to her instrument, it carried a richer sound, more seasoned. Maybe experience? Nanami couldn’t express what he felt due to him being too deep regarding her ability.

“Y'all are being so kind to me, I appreciate the love.” You cooed into the mic, taking in the crowd as the snaps filled the air, “But I’m going to need a little assistance for my next song…” You spoke, your eyes still fishing through the crowd. Nanami could only hold his breath as your eyes stopped at him, his heart rapidly beating against his chest as that smile graced your plump lips and that devious little twinkle you got in your eye, “ Do we have a trumpet player in the building this evening?” As if she really expected him to have his instrument with him on hand. Letting out a light chuckle, foreseeing this possibly happening, he dug underneath his booth, pulling out his case, opening it up to reveal the brass instrument before he made his way towards the stage. The closer he got, the more he felt he was walking towards the sun. Her energy alone was so bright and radiating, the moment he was in front of her, a red blush tinted his cheek, “Isn’t this perfect, everyone welcome this kind gentleman, yeah?” She smirked, glancing up at Nanami as the crowd snapped some more.

Giving him some time to set up and sipping at the water that waited beside her on the stool, she glanced back at him, sending him a wink before his lips on the mouthpiece, his fingers following suit pressing at the valves of the song they composed and wrote together from their teens. The crowd becomes immersed by the unknown tone in seconds of hearing it. As the song continued and it started to become more intense, that’s when Nanami really started to show off and Y/N just had to match it. Her notes hitting just the same as his, it was as if they were poetically having a conversation. So sensual and sweet just for it to become fiery as if they were fighting. It was beautiful yet terrifying because everyone could just see the energy the two had with one another. Considering the fact that she just happened to pick this random man, but if only they knew the history, then they could understand the underlying passion that rests between the two.

Their performance lasted 8 minutes. Those 8 minutes told the story of their journey with one another but to the crowd, it was one of the greatest performances they ever witnessed. Forgetting the snaps and being flooded with the sounds of claps and whistles, Nanami packed away his trumpet with a slight smile as Y/N waltzed her way over to the bar, Nanami following her lead soon after, “A French 75.” you ordered, gracing the bartender with a kind smile, “A Stinger for me…” A voice from behind ordered, as well as the $35 being slid against the counter. “This is covering her drink as well.” He added before he slid by her side with ease.

“It’s nice seeing you, Nanami.” You smiled as you stared over at the blond, a warmth taking over your body instantly as he stared down at you with those hazel eyes. Oh how you missed those eyes, “ I can say the same, Y/N. It’s been so long.” Nanami quipped, earning an eye roll from you, which only led to a shared laugh between the two of you as you both savored this moment. The bartender made his presence known with both drinks. Thanking him, the two shared a sip as the silence wrapped them up like a blanket. There was so much to say but at the same time, nothing at all. It was as if all the things they thought about, thought they would say, got lost in translation through the music.

“How about we move this somewhere else?” he suggested, which only made you take another sip of your drink before your eyes landed back on his, “Where did you have in mind?”

•••

The moonlight peaked through the curtains of the highrise apartment as the glow kissed at your brown skin beautifully, adding to the glow that coated your body.

“Nami…” You moaned as your hands gripped his shoulder blades, your thick thighs trapping him at the waist as he fed you deep thrust, “Yes, Dove?” he asked breathlessly as he took a moment to admire your current state, locs sprawled against the silk pillows, breast plump and nipples hardened from the cool air, your skin glowing thanks to the sheer layer of sweat. You were gorgeous. Which only led him to him rutting his hips into you. The way your walls clenched around him with ease had the man ready to tap out, but he just couldn’t.

“You’re doing so well for me, Dove.” Nanami praised as he raised from your neck, taking in the precious state you were in right now. Just angelic. Locs sprawled against the silk sheets, breast plump and nippled hardend from the cool air, your skin glowing thanks to the sheer layer of sweat. A sight he didn’t want to forget. Just as he admired you, you did just the same taking in the man in front of you. They usually combed over blond strands in a wild mess that fit him just as well. His tan skin decorated with your brown lip liner and his toned physique that always made you melt. Resting against your elbows, you reached a hand up to his cheek, pulling him down to press a kiss to his soft lips. Taking in his taste, getting access to entangle your tongue with his that only evoked a moan out of him as you switched positions, straddling his lap in an instant as you rocked your hips against him. Skin to skin, tangled in the sheets, this was what you craved, what you needed for all this time. “I missed you so much, Nami.” You whispered against his lips as your almond shaped nails dragged along his chest, “I know, Dove. It’s been so long.” The man sighed as he watched you carefully, your hands going between your thighs as you gripped at his hardened 8 inches, jerking it slightly that caused a hiss to leave his lips.

“You know I didn’t want it this way, right?” You asked him, running his tip along your slick folds as you stared down at him, which only made him thrust into your hand, “Y/N…” He started as you began to sink down onto him, “Nami I promise I didn’t want it to be like this.” You spoke, a moan releasing from you once you sank down onto him fully, A silence filling the room as his hands found your waist, making circles against the meat with his thumbs, “Dove, please.” He groaned as he began to move your hips against his pelvis, his thrust reaching the depths of you as you planted your palms against his chest, “I know but Nami..” you started again only to be hushed with his lips encapsulating yours, such a simple kiss, but a devastating one at the same token. As his hips began to stutter and your lips began to depart, you didn’t even realize the tear that rolled from your eye before he wiped it away with his thumb, “I know you’re sorry, Dove. But what are we supposed to do now?” He questioned as his movements stopped, only pulling you close to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the stream flowing from you instantly as he simply rubbed at your back, comforting you as best he could.

It took some hours for you to come down from your moment of vulnerability. From taking you to the warm bath and massaging your sore muscle to retrieving you some tea and finally cuddling in the silk sheets is when you calmed down. Having to come down from such an intimate moment to make a sad one broke Nanami, but he expected it to happen. Considering the circumstances. But here he sat now, in the empty bed at 8 am on the dot, left with only the memory of the night shared between the two of you, wondering how that could have been forever. That could have been your shared reality. If only you didn’t marry him.

࿐ luv letter from reese — this is my first post and i truly hope you enjoyed it because i enjoyed writing this piece!! a little longer then expected for my first piece but i’m still proud of it! please don’t be afraid to give feedback and i hope you love it!!!

#✧.*reesewroteit #reeseaisance #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x black!reader #black!fem!reader

[starrylothcat]

‼️OC ALERT‼️

Me, finally sharing my Jedi OC I’ve had for like 3 years?

👀

I’d like to introduce Sola Jor, (ex) Jedi Knight. More below the cut!

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Some quick introduction facts!

Sola was a Jedi Knight during The Clone Wars, chasing her goal of earning the title of Master. She is now with The Bad Batch post-Order 66.

She disliked the war, and wasn’t keen on Jedi being used as soldiers.

She disliked even more the often negative treatment of clone troopers, speaking up when she saw injustice.

Connects with The Force most easily in nature, away from loud cities and environments.

As a young Padawan, she often found it hard to focus and meditate with The Force in The Temple, due to the endless noise and movement of Coruscant.

Sola was never granted the title of Master, due to Order 66.

Sola watched her Master be shot by clone troopers they called friends. Sola isn’t sure if her Master survived, barely escaping Coruscant during the onslaught.

She meets The Bad Batch, them being her rescuers after being taken prisoner by pirates.

General Personality

Sola has a serious outward demeanor (resting bitch face if you will), but is actually quite friendly and warm once you get to know her.

Sola can be impatient, especially when it comes to people she cares about. She sometimes needs a reminder to step back and assess the situation before running in head on.

Sola became more serious and disillusioned after order 66, not knowing who to trust and lost in an uncertain galaxy. All she knew was the Jedi.

Was she even a Jedi anymore?

Sola went with TBB to Ord Mantell, expecting to get a ship off world.

Sola was asked to join them for a mission to earn some extra credits before she left.

Sola agreed, and not surprisingly, never left.

Being with The Bad Batch gave her a sense of family and wholeness again, and a path to healing.

Her and Hunter took some time to trust one another, but become closer the longer they worked together.

Another path arose, one to new feelings and emotions she wasn’t sure she’d ever get to experience in the Jedi Temple (cough cough maybe falling for a certain Sergeant? 😏)

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Credit: Pic Crew (if any beautiful artists would like to draw her, I have money)

Happy to take any questions or if you want lore!

Taglist: @crosshairlovebot @sev-on-kamino @kimiheartblade @wizardofrozz @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @kashasenpai @freesia-writes @multi-fan-dom-madness @aconstructofamind @dreamie411 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @secretthegriffin @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @secondaryrealm @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @sleepingsun501 @cw80831 @dangraccoon @mythical-illustrator @din-miller

***I’ll be tagging any OC posts as OC:Sola if you don’t want to see OC content!

#oc:sola #Star Wars oc #the bad batch #the clone wars #star wars original character

[wri0thesley]

crush (mahito x reader, 1.5k)

cw: self-ship coded, reader is implied to be chubby, mahito is himself warning!!!. non-consensual voyeurism. reader is afab, wears a dress and makeup and lingerie, is in a relationship with nanami. not sfw

“What does it mean,” the curse asks Geto, his mismatched eyes far more serious than the man has ever seen them, “to want to touch somebody? Not just to change them; not just to feel the shape of their soul underneath the skin. But . . . just because you want to know what they feel like?”

Geto doesn’t respond for a moment. Mahito’s curiosity is certainly boundless; but there is usually a faint crook to the corner of his mouth, a laugh in his voice. He usually finds all of this - the little foibles of what it is to be human - amusing more than anything else. Geto - at least, the man wearing Geto’s face - thinks back on his own long life, and feels a smile tugging at his own not-really-his mouth. 

“Mahito,” he says. “I think you have a crush.”

“A crush.” Mahito repeats the word; savours the syllable against his tongue and lips and teeth. It feels good there; at once vicious and fascinating. He knows the verb ‘to crush’ - imagines holding you against him until you squeak, until you go weak and your body turns to a boneless, helpless thing in his embrace. 

“And if I want to know what they taste like?” He presses on. “Without biting into their flesh?” He pauses. “No. I just want to know what they taste like. I’d bite as hard as I could.”

Geto laughs again, a laugh too old for the man he’s pretending to be. Mahito is the most human-like curse he has ever met; he wonders, sometimes, how much easier it would have been to experiment if he had Mahito on side hundreds of years ago. Why, the curse even seems to have figured out ‘desire’ all on his own--

“Definitely a crush,” Geto hums. “Touching and tasting? Would you want to kiss them, too? Hold them? Fuck them?”

The question leaves Mahito silent for just a moment. 

“Crush,” Mahito repeats to himself, instead of responding to Geto. It seems the conversation is over; Mahito turns away without answering any further, still murmuring that syllable under his breath. But he is smiling, now - the stitches on his face pulled taut, his eyes sparkling with what somebody optimistic might call ‘mischief’ and what somebody who understood Mahito would call ‘intent’. 

He thinks about you again, later that night. In the privacy of his hammock, with a stack of aged, foxed books by his side as he flips through them. He’d taken them from a library - simply wandered in and picked a collection from the ‘romance’ shelves, intent on understanding what it is he feels stirring in his gut when he looks at you. 

It had been an accident, the first time he had seen you. It had not been you he was following - but that 7:3 sorcerer, the one who had almost beaten him. A fascinating opponent, and a fascinating man - and Mahito was always interested in learning. He had stuck to the shadows, let his body change and ripple in order to camouflage himself, as he had followed Nanami Kento around the city. 

And in a restaurant, Nanami sitting and checking his watch, he had seen you for the first time. You’d been babbling apologies about being late, a flurry and swirl of colour and motion in a dress the colour of melted butter, and Nanami had stood up to greet you and laid a hand on your shoulder and you had gone quiet, looking up at him with a smile on glossy lips until he had kissed you. 

(Mahito had found a drugstore the next night; picked up lip glosses and swiped them over his own mouth, wondering what yours had felt like against Nanami’s. Intense, sticky flavour? Strawberries or pineapples or vanilla? He’d taken one that had shone like yours). 

He had just wanted to know what fascinated the sorcerer about you at first; dissect him, work out his weaknesses. You had seemed so different from the stolid, stoic man that Mahito had encountered - and he had read so many books, of course, about human relationships and psyche and how like calls to like but also how opposites attract . . . He had thought of it as research. 

Research to watch you go about your day to day life; grocery shopping and humming under your breath. You’d seen him, once - Mahito had felt himself tense, had grinned at you something sharp and inane and waited for you to pounce on him (a pity, he’d felt at the time, to shape you into something hideous when you were such a pretty thing to observe, like a bird in a glass cage)--

But you had smiled at him and tilted your head to the side and gone back to what you were doing. If Nanami had ever said anything to you about a curse with a patchwork face . . . clearly you had not remembered it. So you could see curses, at least (would see him, then, when he dug his fingers into the chub of your cheeks and they sunk into the soft flesh - when he harshly grabbed your chin and jolted it upwards so you could see how the light played over his stitches). 

Research, then, to fade into the background and watch you with Nanami. The way he placed a hand around your waist and you seemed to go all soft and complacent. The way he placed his mouth against yours with perfect surety. 

Research, to take the form of a crawling creature and perch himself on the branch outside the apartment you and Nanami shared. To watch you shower and wonder what it would feel like to press against you in it, hot and damp and wet, humid in a different way from the sewer. To watch you pick up piece after piece of flimsy lingerie and hold it against your body, brow furrowing in distaste at the way you looked in the mirror. 

Mahito likes the way your body looks against the frills and the flounces; likes the idea of ripping them to pieces as he bares you again. Nanami, it seems, prefers something tighter - lace, stockings, complicated straps that he traces his fingers across and smiles. 

Research, to watch how you kneel for the blond sorcerer and look up at him with devotion writ clear in your eyes. Research, to watch Nanami knot his tie around your wrists - to scuttle closer until he is on the windowsill, insect creature of too many legs and eyes, something that wouldn’t attract attention on a hot summer night - and to hear the way that Nanami speaks to you. The harsh orders that you fall over yourself to fulfil. The way your voice pitches and whines when you call him ‘Sir’. 

What would Mahito make you call him, he wonders? 

He leaves when the two of you are sweat-slicked, naked, wrapped around one another in the big bed. Frustration gnaws at a part of Mahito he didn’t know he had. He has read the romance books. He knows, without a doubt, this is what they would call ‘jealousy’, and it does not abate even when he reaches his sewers and pouts, climbing into the hammock and making it swing gently from side to side. 

He thinks about yours and Nanami’s anatomy; the part of him that had fitted into you as if it was meant to be there, that had made you arch your back and beg the man for more, please, you could take it. He touches his own stitched body; makes it swell underneath his touch, makes the thing between his thighs bigger and thicker than Nanami’s so that you wouldn’t know for sure if you could take it. Would you cry? Say it was too big? Mahito thinks perhaps he’d like that. 

The jealousy does not abate, roiling in his stomach sour and irritable. Sulking, Geto had called this. Had told Mahito to go and play with some of his toys to make it go away.

But as Mahito’s hands press into fleshy quivering masses that may once have been human, that beg him to die . . . it is only you he can think about. As he makes a human soul smaller and smaller, shriveling it to the size of a kidney bean, wondering if he could ball it up in his fist so tight that he could turn it to dust. 

A crush, Geto had said. 

He thinks about you. Thinks about how Nanami had cradled you so tightly against him, about how his hips had pressed so deeply into you that Mahito couldn’t see from his vantage point on the windowsill where one of you started and the other ended. Thinks about Nanami’s mouth pressing hungrily against yours. 

Crush. The word in his mouth, murmured in a puff of stale air - like a candy, like something to be grabbed between his teeth and shaken until he had conquered it. 

He smiles to himself; thinks about the indent of his hammock pressing into your skin until it marked you for hours, a beautiful pattern on your soft, sweet, achingly mortal body.

Crush. 

How appropriate. 

#drabble #writing #not sfw text #jjk posting #dub con for ts #non consensual voyeurism

[mwolf0epsilon]

Several months into the Imperial Era, during a routine job for either Cid or Rex (you can pick which it's not really important), Clone Force 99 end up on a busy Trade HUB city planet similar to either Coruscant or Daiyo.

The streets are bustling with movement and all kinds of legal (and ilegal) activity, and it's somewhat easy to get lost in the crowd and blend in. The group splits up to get affairs done, with Wrecker and Hunter going to talk with an informant, while Tech goes off to shop for parts for the Marauder, and Echo and Omega go shop for other more basic supplies.

Omega ends up wandering off accidentally and gets lost, which almost immediately catches the attention of some less than agreeable folks. She gets cornered in an alleyway and, just when everything seems like it's going to end badly, she gets rescued by two cloaked strangers.

The two ask her if she's ok and if she needs help getting back from wherever it is she came from, which she's apprehensive about at first until she catches a glimpse of their hooded faces. Two clones, both with hairline scars where their chips used to be.

Echo tracks Omega down and is initially alarmed seeing the two strangers talking to her, before Omega notices him and says that she's ok and that the two are friends. That they don't have their chips in anymore. Naturally, Echo demands they identify themselves, which one of them does almost immediately. The one that hesitated when Omega called out Echo's name.

Lo and behold the hoods come off... And it's Fives and Tup under there. Looking just as shocked and bewildered about Echo being alive, as Echo is shocked that **they** are standing before him looking as right as rain.

The reunion is a hesitant frail yet exhilarating thing. With Echo and Fives both not trusting this too good to be true situation, and actively questioning each other on things only the Domino Twins would know, before it fully hits them. This is real. They're both there. They're both alive. They made it.

They hold on to each other for dear life while very openly crying, foreheads pressed together and just letting all of the emotions, the survivor's guilt, the denial, the hope and sibling love flow. Tup and Omega watch on quietly. Let them work it out.

There's going to be a lot of explaining to be done. And Hunter resolves that they call Rex once they can set up a more secure connection because this is great news. The trip back is a bonding experience and a lot of catching up on what they've all gotten up to since the Order went out. They decide to talk about the more extensive details of Fives and Tup's survival once they can talk to Rex.

The mission having gone off without a hitch boosts everyone's mood. And while Tech sets up a call with Rex with Tup's help, the rest of the batch goes off on a small errand to make a quick credit while they wait.

This errand ends... Rather poorly.

They catch the attention of some upstart street gang that ends up trying to rob them, and during a struggle one of them throws an explosive charge at Echo. Fives reacts almost immediately and grabs the charge to toss it away from the twin he'd thought he'd lost to another explosion. It goes off in his grip... Revealing circuity and hydrolics beneath...

Everyone stops.

It's like time itself has frozen as they all stare at the mangled machinery that used to be Fives's arm. Echo is mortified, but not more so than Fives himself who's staring at the mess like it's completely foreign to him. He looks at the others, sees their horror, the fear, the sudden distrust in their eyes, and he backs away. He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know what this is.

When he looks at Echo specifically, he sees the absolute betrayal in his eyes.

"You're... You're not..." Not Fives, but Echo doesn't finish that inquiry. He doesn't need to. The others are reaching for their holsters, Omega looks at a loss for what to do.

"̴I̷'̸m̸.̸.̷.̴ ̴I̸ ̸a̵m̶ ̵I̷.̴.̵.̷ ̴I̸ ̵h̸a̶v̸e̶ ̶t̸o̵ ̷b̷e̶!̵ ̴I̴ ̴a̴m̵ ̷F̷i̸v̴e̵s̵!̸"̶ The cybernetic imposter calls out, but he doesn't sound like Fives. The blast must have broken something internal, because his voice is a glitchy mess, and that just distresses him further. "̸I̶'̸m̶ ̸r̶e̷a̶l̶.̷.̵.̷ ̶I̶.̶.̷.̵"̶

The machine steps back, clutching the ruined arm with tears in his frightened eyes.

"̸I̵ ̶h̸a̸v̵e̸ ̴t̸o̶ ̵b̴e̸.̵.̵.̷"̷

And then he runs away. Leaving them completely behind.

Echo is a mess. He really thought he had his brother back, but it was some kind of twisted joke. A sick trick of some kind. It's like losing Fives all over again, but there's no time to dwell on it. Tech is alone with Tup who is very likely also an imposter as well. They need to hurry back.

When they return to the Marauder they find Tup strapped to a table and connected to several machines. He looks absolutely distressed, much like Fives had, while Tech is both disturbed and highly fascinated by this entire situation.

While the others were off on their own, Tech had offered to give Tup a medical check-up (since they hadn't had the time to do it before, and it's better to be safe with one's health than to be sorry), only for both of them to get some rather odd readings when Tech did a preliminary scan.

Readings that indicated Tup was not a human, but rather a machine of some kind, which alarmed Tech and put him on the defensive. Tup immediately swears that this can't be possible, that he remembers training as a cadet on Kamino, remembers graduating and joining the 501st, remembers the shitshow that was Umbara, and so on and so forth... That there's no way he's a fake!

Hearing all this, Tech ponders for a while before agreeing to believe him (or at least believing that Tup really didn't know because the other is absolutely terrified). And, so long as they could run a few tests, he'll trust that Tup isn't up to anything insidious.

The tests reveal something very alarming indeed: That Tup is a very soffisticated kind of android designed to perfectly mimic people, and that who's AI was created using a brain scan.

It's also revealed that, upon trying to look back on his very last memory before he and Fives ended up on the run, Tup cannot remember what happened on Ringo Vida. Has no memory of what lead up to the real Tup's death. The scan must have been done right before Tup died, so he'd have nothing to go on other than Fives's word...

Realizing that this is a lot more complex than they immediately assumed (and seeing how freaked out Tup is at discovering he's "not real"), Echo runs off to go find Fives while everyone else is busy with the implications of perfect android imposters.

He's still shaken up about all this. But, seeing how genuinely afraid Tup is, he can't live with the idea of having any version of Fives (not even an AI copy) dealing with this on his own.

Echo knows what it's like to wake up altered in a now barely recognizable galaxy, after all...

He manages to track the damaged (wounded?) android to a very dingy looking public bathroom. Fives is curled up under a sink and, when Echo kneels down in front of him to see if he's ok, he's horrified to find that Fives has ripped off the left side of his face to expose the machinery beneath. He looks heartbroken and so terribly afraid.

"̴I̴'̸m̸ ̷r̴e̷a̷l̵.̷.̵.̷ ̸I̷.̵.̸.̴ ̴I̸'̴m̸ ̴r̵e̸a̵l̷ ̸I̷ ̶p̷r̷o̴m̶i̶s̶e̸.̷.̷.̷"̴ The left side of his face is a horrifying abomination made up of various servos and circuits, the right side a hauntingly lifelike mockery of life.

"̴E̷y̵'̴i̵k̷a̵ ̴I̷ ̶p̷r̵o̷m̴i̸s̵e̸ ̸i̷t̴'̸s̵ ̶m̷e̶.̷.̷.̴ ̷I̶.̸.̸.̷ ̵I̸'̸m̴ ̴F̴i̵v̴e̸s̸!̴ ̷I̵.̴.̶.̷ ̸I̸.̵.̴.̴ ̸I̷'̴m̵ ̸s̴c̵a̸r̷e̵d̸.̷.̶.̴"̵

And Echo believes him.

Because, even if this is a copy, a cheap knockoff, those are still his brother's memories in there. And he's terrified and hurting. He's only ever heard Fives so terribly afraid once, and it still haunts his nightmares to this day.

Echo scoops up his twin into his arms and just holds him while Fives cries his heart out. They'll figure this out. Somehow.

#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #writing prompt #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #clone trooper tup #omega #hunter #wrecker #tech #fives lives au #tup lives au #well sorta