bonding urge


For your sanity DO NOT imagine Sally and Paul going on a date and asking Percy and Annabeth to babysit their toddler. And Percy being so excited, he starts packing his stuff from camp to entertain his little sister. But on the other hand, Annabeth is so nervous she starts panicking, she’s seen the little girl before but only for a couple of minutes, she’s never taken care of a newborn child, not even his brothers because her step mom wouldn’t let her. And Percy starts comforting her and telling her how awesome his little sister is while massaging her head, so she calms down. And when they arrive she’s still a bit nervous, while saying their goodbyes Sally holds Annabeth strong and whispers “You’re gonna do fine, you’ve got Percy by your side”. Then she sees the little girl who stars showing her little arms towards Percy the second she sees him. Then Percy brings his little sister to Annabeth and the little girl falls in love with Annabae and won’t let Percy take her away from her new big sister. Percy is kind of mad and goes like “It’s my turn to have her you’ve been holding her for three hours now.” every 15 minutes. When it’s almost midnight, the three of them cuddle and fall asleep on Percy’s old bedroom, Percy hugging Annabeth and Annabeth having the baby on top of her chest. The next morning they wake up to the sound of flashes, it’s Sally taking silly pictures of her children (cause she considers Annabeth as one of her own too), she takes her baby with her and lets Annabeth and Percy rest for a couple of minutes while she makes breakfast. They are eating their breakfast and Percy won’t stop grumbling about how Annabeth took all of his sister’s attention and didn’t let him take the baby away from her and Annabeth is just red, Sally is just listening her son with a smile on her face and after a couple of minutes when everyone is silent eating she just goes “Both of you are gonna make great parents one day.”

I Got You On My Mind (Part 7)

Jungkook Soulmate AU (Angst)

[Part One] Previous Part | Part Seven | Epilogue

Summary: Jungkook reveals why he rejected you. But is it enough for you to forgive him?

Word count: 1.7k words

Originally posted by jungxook

You watched, mesmerized, as Jungkook fidgeted with his hands, the chords of muscles in his forearms flexing. His gaze was downcast, his plump lower lip caught between his teeth, as he struggled to find the words to stay. You found that this uncharacteristic nervousness made him seem more genuine, but still, it was difficult for you to trust Jungkook after everything that had transpired.

After recently regaining some of your memories, the wounds Jungkook had inflicted still felt fresh. Your heart ached as if it were only moments ago that Jungkook had tossed you aside.

The conflicting memories of Jungkook warred in your mind. On one hand, Jungkook had rejected you with cutting words and a cold heart. But on the other, he had helped nurse you back to health and remained resolutely by your side. Which one was the real Jungkook? 

You wanted desperately to hold onto the version of Jungkook you had imagined as a young girl, not the one who had been sleeping with your best friend.

“She won’t believe me,” Jungkook thoughts interrupted. Your gaze flickered to his, but he was still staring at the ground, unaware that he was projecting his thoughts. You could feel his uncertainty and fear through your soulmate bond. The sudden urge to comfort him arose, but you pushed it down.

“Jungkook, I promise I’ll listen,” you said quietly. His head shot up, Jungkook’s wide eyes peering into yours. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “I can’t promise that I’ll believe you, or that everything will be fixed, but I’ll give you this chance to explain everything.”

Jungkook sighed and looked away, his jaw clenching.

“I know I need to explain this to you,” Jungkook began slowly. “But this is really hard for me. I don’t want to show this side of myself to you.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t hate you now and I probably never will,” you said with a small laugh. “We’re soulmates for a reason, you know.”

Jungkook gave you a small smile, his gaze flickering down. “I guess I’ll start from the beginning then.”

You nodded, waiting patiently as Jungkook took an unsteady breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, before exhaling slowly and looking back at you. His eyes were raw and honest.

“The first time I heard your thoughts, I was six,” Jungkook recalled with a fond smile. “You didn’t hear me for awhile later. I still remember what you thought. ‘That looks like a fun tree to climb.’”

“That was the first thing you heard?” you asked incredulously. “I remember that! I climbed a tall-ass tree in the park, and I fell and broke my arm.”

“I know,” Jungkook replied grimly. “I felt it, too. For such an underdeveloped bond, it didn’t make sense for me to be able to feel your emotions. But I could. All I could feel was your panic and pain.”

You winced, recalling the memory from all those years ago. For a six-year-old, it was a terrifying experience.

“I was so young at the time,” Jungkook continued. “I didn’t understand why I could feel emotions that weren’t mine. I didn’t know why I could hear someone else’s thoughts. And I couldn’t understand why I cared so much about a person I’d never met.”

You opened your mouth, but Jungkook cut you off immediately. “Don’t apologize,” Jungkook said, smiling slightly. “I got over it, eventually. It got easier when you started to hear me.”

“That wasn’t until, like, a year later,” you frowned. “That must’ve been so strange.”

“It felt a little intrusive,” Jungkook shrugged. “But your thoughts were pretty entertaining. Plus, I was a really shy kid, so you were my only friend for a little while.”

“That’s really sad,” you said quietly, your voice lilting. “We didn’t have an actual conversation until we were nine.”

“We could have had spoken sooner, but I didn’t want to,” Jungkook confessed, looking away. “I learned how to block my thoughts, mostly. Sometimes I can’t, if I get too emotional.”

“Why didn’t you want to talk to me?” you questioned, a little hurt.

“It wasn’t you,” Jungkook replied immediately. Then, he frowned and clenched his fists. He didn’t speak for several moments, but when he did, his voice was quiet. “It was because of my parents. They were soulmates, but for some reason, they didn’t get along.

“My mom found out that my dad was cheating on her, and it was a mess. They divorced a few months later. My mom got custody, and my dad sort of spiralled,” Jungkook explained, his voice coloured with shame. “I didn’t know how to face my own soulmate after that. I didn’t even know if I could believe in soulmates anymore.”

“Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “If I had known, I would’ve–”

“No, I didn’t want you to know,” Jungkook interrupted. “You were the only person I could pretend to be fine with. You were the only person who didn’t know how fucked up my family–how fucked up I was.”

“You were just a child,” you argued. “How could I think badly of you?”

Jungkook just shook his head. “I wanted to seem like a good person in front of you,” he said. “Even after my parents, I still wanted to believe in soulmates. I wanted to have something to look forward to. You were always so happy, it was easy to pretend with you.”

A few moments of silence passed as Jungkook tried to collect his thoughts. You wanted to reach out, to hold him, but you didn’t know if he would appreciate that.

“My mom had to work a lot to support me and my brother, so she wasn’t home often,” Jungkook continued, his voice low. “My dad picked up drinking. He tried to take us home with him, once. The police had to come.

“My brother was hit pretty hard, since he was older when it happened. I was in middle school when he started high school. He joined a gang, started getting into fights and dealing.

“I didn’t follow him, but I got involved with some pretty bad people. You know what my reputation’s like–it’s because that’s who I am. From high school till now, all I did was party. I drank, I did drugs, I slept around.”

“Why didn’t I know any of this?” you asked, confused. “In all the years we’ve been talking, I couldn’t tell that a single thing was off.”

“I showed you what I wanted you to see,” Jungkook replied with a cold laugh. “I was hoping by the time I met you, I would’ve already cleaned up my act. I didn’t expect to see you that night, and I was so ashamed of myself. And I ended up pushing you away, because I wasn’t ready for you to see me like that.

“You were the last person I wanted to hurt, but I fucked it up anyway,” Jungkook said, his words venomous. “I ruined everything before it even began. It’s fucked up, but after you lost you’re memories, I thought it was like a second chance. I know, it’s fucking disgusting, but I wanted you to see the person I could become.”


“Look, I know everything about me is fucked up, okay?” Jungkook spat. “I don’t want to hear apologies, I don’t need pity. I don’t need forgiveness, either. This is the truth. This is everything I never wanted you to know.”

“Jungkook!” you repeated, more firmly this time. You reached out and grabbed his hand, which was clammy, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Listen to me. All I wanted was for you to be honest with me. It doesn’t matter if you’re embarrassed or ashamed of your past, of yourself. If I’m your soulmate, I want to love all of you.”

Jungkook stared at you, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“If anything, I wish I could have been there for you,” you continued sadly. You played with his large hand, weaving your own fingers in between his. “We’re soulmates, you know? We’re supposed to support each other. There’s a reason why we’re connected, even if we don’t understand.”

“I just hate disappointing you,” Jungkook sighed, squeezing your hand back. “I was afraid to see our relationship crumble. Just being soulmates–I don’t know if that’s enough. If I’m anything like my father–which I am–then we’re doomed.”

“Don’t say that,” you scolded him gently. “I’ll admit, there are some things about you that aren’t great. But you’re more than your mistakes. You’re passionate and kind, and you’ve shown me the best sides of you, too.

“We aren’t so two-dimensional, Jungkook. I’m sure I’m not the perfect person you made me out to be when we were younger,” you laughed.

“But you’re perfect for me,” Jungkook insisted, then blushed deeply. He gulped visibly and looked away.

“Look, I don’t know if I forgive you yet,” you said, and you saw Jungkook deflate. “But I will eventually. I want us to move past this together.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook whispered, his voice cracking. He looked up at you. “I know I don’t deserve that, or you. But you’re the reason why I even try. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have probably given up already.”

“You should want to live for yourself, Jungkook,” you smiled sadly. “I am your soulmate, but I’m not your entire world.”

You pulled Jungkook into your arms, and he immediately buried his nose in the crook of your neck. You weren’t sure, but you thought you could feel wetness against your skin. Was he crying?

“You helped me a lot these past few weeks,” you continued, holding Jungkook tightly in your arms. “Let me help you now. We’ll make it through this, together. Okay?”

Jungkook nodded against your neck. And despite how terribly everything began, you were almost certain that everything would turn out just fine. With Jungkook truly by your side now, you felt strong. You were determined to unravel the mystery of the boy in your arms, who felt as far away as he was close.

- Girl in Luv

One more part to go, then it’s finished! How did you guys feel about this chapter? Are you still mad at Jungkook? His behaviour sort of makes sense now…I hope. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this series, and thanks to everyone who stuck with it! Look forward to the last instalment of I Got You On My Mind. I’m always so thankful for the support we receive, from the replies to the fanmail. You guys are the best! Happy reading 💛

anonymous asked:

Dumb strain power #25643: what if a strain made Munakata talk like a punk all the time and made Mikoto use really polite, formal speech. I know that's more of a thing in Japan than in the west but I think it would be pretty funny.

Even translation-wise I think it would be funny, just imagine Munakata talking all casual and Mikoto being so formal and polite – oh oh imagine they get hit by the Strain and the first word out of Mikoto’s mouth is ‘oya.’ He immediately puts a hand to his mouth like what the fuck while Munakata’s about to say the same thing himself except it comes out as kind of a bemused grunt. Mikoto’s like well, I wonder what could have happened to us and Munakata looks intent as he says ’…dunno.’ They exchange a momentary look and then Munakata’s like ‘so I’m talkin’ like this, huh’ and Mikoto notes that indeed, it seems Munakata’s speech has become rather barbaric. The best part of the Strain power is that it doesn’t affect their personalities at all, like basically they’re saying exactly what they normally would but the Strain power like 'translates’ it so even though Munakata intends to speak politely it comes out as something informal, while Mikoto’s intent on sounding informal gets turned to super polite and wordy (also all grunts are now automatically translated into 'oya’ and Mikoto is pretty much done with that one the moment the word leaves his mouth). Imagine the two of them discussing what happened and Munakata’s trying to lecture Mikoto like usual because it was his interference in Scepter 4’s investigation that led to this except he keeps dropping casual swear words into his speech and Mikoto’s replying with 'silence yourself for a moment if you please, Munakata.’

Eventually they go back to their own clans and Scepter 4 is probably mortified by their new King, like he looks as elegant and dignified as ever and then he opens his mouth. Also imagine Munakata has like a call with the Prime Minister, Awashima’s concerned about his ability to have such an important conversation while under the Strain power but Munakata’s like  ’ ’s all fine, Awashima’ and she’s momentarily given pause by his lack of honorific. The worries return again when Munakata answers the phone with 'whaddaya want?’ and then proceeds to at various points in the conversation lay out very complicated political maneuverings in very casual and swear-laden speech. Meanwhile over at the bar Kusanagi’s pretty amused by how polite Mikoto’s become all of a sudden and Totsuka probably finds it hilarious. It’s really weird for most of the Homra guys, like Yata is so confused when he walks into the bar and greets Mikoto and gets a 'greetings, Yata-kun’ in reply. Kusanagi jokes that at this rate they’ll have to tidy up the bar more now that their leader is becoming respectable. At some point Totsuka suggests to everyone that well wouldn’t King feel more comfortable if we all talked that way so he’s not alone, he of course has the camera rolling as everyone stumbles and stutters over super polite speech.

Warm Me Up ch. 37

This one is shorter but that’s because it was not only hard to write, but I was also listening to some painful songs. I could read over it or elaborate without opening my own can of worms so…. Mediocrity will have to do for this one. Sorry, but thank you for reading. 

Click Here for Ch. 1

Click Here for Ch. 36


It had been a restless night. As Nico slept, Will would hear sudden shuddering breaths- the aftermath of crying so much before falling asleep. Will struggled to wrap his mind around all the pain Nico faced. He didn’t want to let him go even when Nico groaned and tried to pull away in his sleep because it was hot and he was sweaty. Will couldn’t sleep well. Not after hearing everything Nico had lived through.

“Thank you for saving me.” Those had been the last words Nico uttered before falling into his fitful sleep. As if it had been because of Will that Nico overcame everything. As if Will had been the one picking him up each time something happened. As if Will had been the one to keep him alive this long.

Nico had no idea how strong he was. He had no concept of the strength he held in himself. The resilience. Will knew that not everyone would’ve made it to college in Nico’s circumstances. He knew that not everyone would’ve been able to live on their own. He knew that not everyone would’ve been able to make it through such a toxic environment. But Nico had.

Nico had pushed through, and he was here, in the same bed as Will, breathing, rosy-cheeked. Sleeping, he looked younger. Not at peace, not completely. There was still a furrow in his eyebrows and a slight frown in his parted lips. But he didn’t look like a 19 year-old who had grown up almost completely alone and all too quickly. He looked smaller, more vulnerable.

Will wondered vaguely how many people had woken up to Nico. How many people had slept beside him and seen the same sleeping face? Then he wondered if any of them appreciated and loved the sight as much as Will did. He wondered if any of them looked at Nico with the amount of wonder Will felt. If any of them had any idea how incredibly strong Nico was.

Something told him nobody ever had.

Keep reading

Braids & War Paint (Part 8)

Notes On:
Part 1: / Part 2: / Part 3: / Part 4: / Part 5: / Part 6: / Part 7:

Rowan could taste the salt in the air when they landed in Varese, Wendlyn. From miles away his fae eyes could see a greeting party waiting for them. Though he did not expect this. 

Lorcan Salvaterre, the commander of the Queen’s first-hands lead a small group of Wendlyn soldiers, as well as soldiers clad in the colours of Doneralle. Fenrys, one of the wolf twins was also present. Holding the reigns of two saddled horses. 

Rowan’s right hand found it’s way to the braid in his hair,  as he thought about which queen he’d rather serve.

Maeve was difficult at the best of times, she was cruel, cold and calculating. The rest of the first-hands had taken the blood oath: Lorcan, Fenrys, Connall, Vaughan and Gavriel. But Rowan hadn’t. He had been offered the oath but declined, something deep in his chest had told him not to. Rowan hoped it was Aelin subconsciously telling him that Maeve wasn’t his final move on the chess board of life. With Rowan’s deep unyielding power Maeve cold have him with his free will or not have him at all. She chose the former like the tactical empress she was. 


His heartbeat echoed her name, even now, across the sea with the threat of silence and beasts of molten onyx. Rowan thought about what Aelin’s cause of action would be if she were in his position. 

“You’ve missed a lot, boyo.” Fenrys said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

“Did you receive my letters?” Rowan asked, quickly placing the few items he bought with him into the saddlebags of the new stallion. His question was aimed at both, Lorcan and Fenrys. 

“The crown jewel, huh?” Fenrys said, just as Lorcan’s stern voice leeched into the atmosphere:

“We’ve had to stop intercontinental shipments, of all kinds.” 

Rowan’s eye’s caught alight with realisation, something was bubbling here. It would have to be major to cause all Erilean and Southern Continent ships to stop trading. To stop simple letters, it would have to be a threat that Rowan was uncomfortable to inquire on with the Wendlyn soldiers. 

It was only until he realised they were all, Wendlyn party included, were travelling to Doneralle. Just as Rowan thought he could ditch Galan. 

He needed infomation, Rowan  decided to hang to the back of the party, Fenrys trailing beside him, his stallion upset at such mundane speeds. 

“What is going on?” Rowan hissed at Fenrys, his golden face becoming harsh and stern. 

“Something magical has stirred. Creatures that Maeve fought alongside her sisters, alongside Brannon of the Wildfire and his kin.” Fenrys’ words caused Rowan’s hands to clench around his reigns, he hadn’t yet deigned to tell any of the first-hands about his Carranam bond, let alone who he shared the bond with. Rowan urged Fenrys for more information:

“The Valg. A black armada just appeared during the night. They just appeared.” Aelin. Rowan wondered if any Valg activity had occurred after he left. “We caught three, stabbed one in the chest and it survived. Like nothing had happened to it. We took the head off the next one, that worked but they’re fighters.” Rowan could tell there was more, Fenrys was keeping information from him. 

“And the third Valg?” Fenrys shook his head at Rowan’s question before facing him, his dark eyes held an emotion in them that Rowan couldn’t name.

“After Lorcan’s power couldn’t kill it we called in Maeve.” Fenrys swallowed hard, lowering his voice to a low whisper. “She couldn’t kill it, even with all her power, it wasn’t being affected. Maeve bought a candle in and the thing, it started hissing like it was afraid of it.” Rowan’s eyes burned into the back of Galan’s head. “She set it alight and it turned to ash, there was nothing left, even with a petty candle.” 

“How are we supposed to-“ Rowan started but was cut off by Galan’s voice, ringing out and asking all members of their travelling band. 

“Where is my family?” 

“King Glaston and Queen Rhoswen have been called to Doneralle, your Highness.” Fenrys called to him, Galan did not turn around but his shoulders coiled. “As well as the entirety of House Whitethorn.” Rowan had missed Endymion and Sellene, as well as his uncle. After seeing Aelin’s family, Rowan had missed his own. 

It was a rarity if the Ashryvers and Maeve made contact. It was rarer that the Galathynius’ responded to either of them. 

They held a fast pace to reach Doneralle by nightfall, the palace gates closing behind Rowan. The Oyrnth castle was an art piece compared to Maeve’s keep. 

Maeve had requested to see both Rowan and Galan tomorrow. That was final. So they decided to seek lightheartedness elsewhere.

He sat, his neck craned back looking at the constellations and wondering if Aelin could see them too. They were in the courtyard, shearing beer like they usually did. Fenrys was the life of the party: his words ran together and his laugh bounced off the sandstone walls, Lorcan was brooding but listening all the same, Gavriel was considerate of Rowan’s wiriness, Connall never really talked, his twin did that for the both of them and Vaughan was on the receiving end of Fenrys’ shitty jokes.

“Where’d you get that?” Gavriel asked, pointing to where Rowan’s hand was playing with his braid. 

“Terrasen custom.” Was Rowan’s only reply. Gavriel’s eye’s quirked and the rest of the ‘cadre’ as Aelin liked to call them, had a new found interest in Rowan. 

“Aren’t you gonna tell us anything about your trip?” Vaughan asked, the Osprey cunning and quick. 

“Not much to tell.” Not much to tell without mentioning his secret of Aelin. 

“Galan didn’t mention his cousin once the whole ride here.” Lorcan said, leaning forward so his forearms were resting on his knees. Rowan shrugged. 

“She didn’t spend much time with him, Galan followed the male Ashryver around.” Rowan tried to reason with himself; he should tell them now, better then them finding out later, he should be the one to tell them. But tell them what? That Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of the Wildfire, descendant of Mab, Mora and Maeve, blessed by Mala, the heir of fire and ash, was his carranam, was his… Truth be told, Rowan didn’t know. 

“I’ve heard rumours of her beauty.” Connall said, referring to Aelin and Rowan compressed his snarl. They weren’t rumours, she was the most gorgeous being Rowan had ever seen. 

“She was pleasant to look at.” Rowan said, his jaw tightening. He wanted to reverse this conversation. 

“Did you take fondness to her?” Gavriel asked. This was what boys talked of, they were men. Men hundreds of years old, yet when Rowan tried to say that she was ‘platonically friendly’ his face grew hot. 

“Stop bullshitting us, Rowan.” Lorcan said gruffly, looking somewhat disinterested. 

“I became quite…close, with Aelin.” Rowan wasn’t expecting them to laugh, he wasn’t expecting Lorcan to roll his eyes. 

“First name basis, boyo!” Fenrys said, leaning over and punching Rowan in his solid arm.

“Carranam.” Rowan spat the word before he had time to regret it.   

“What did you just say?” Lorcan said so low he almost growled.   

“Carranam. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius is my carranam, the bond is quite strong.”

As those words flew out of his mouth a cry sounded in the night. A white messenger hawk circled in the courtyard, silver and green ribbons were loosely tied around it’s neck. The Terrasen Messenger Hawk. It carried a letter in it’s talons which it dropped into Rowan’s lap. He laughed as the Hawk cried and flew off into the night. 

Count on his Fireheart to deliver a letter into a closed border country. 

“Speak of the devil, the Princess of the Flames must be able to hear us.” Fenrys laughed. 

Rowan smiled down at the piece of parchment that was sealed with the Terrasen green, stamped into it was the stag. 

Aelin tossed and turned, her silk sheets were too heavy, the room was suffocatingly cold. She couldn’t get warm, no matter what she did. 

Aelin knew she was dreaming this darkness, the faces of fae she had never seen before flashed across her vision, hissing of daemons in the dark. The screams of innocents plagued her mind as wyrdmarks erupted, gates flew open, rips in the underworld let ships pour out, she saw a key, she saw the Endovier salt mine, she saw Sam and Rowan. 

She saw battles enraging in lands that were foreign to her. She was burning armies, fleets, creatures that had only walked the earth according to legend. 

It was the twelfth time she had experienced this dream, as soon as Rowan left they started. She wondered if it was a bond thing. 

No more.

She sat upright in bed, Fleetfoot whimpering beside her.   

Aelin only knew one person who understood dreams, she only knew one person that could explain it to her. Tomorrow, Aelin would leave for Eyllwe tomorrow. Nehemia would be the only living person in Erilea that could understand.

A:N/ HELLO! Little note, the Endovier Salt mine will be mentioned in the future, Aelin has not been there yet. 

Wow, I’m four followers off 200 and I just can’t believe it, thank you so much. 

As always this was written for: @2-bookmaster-2 @aelin-and-feyre @rowanismybae @sparkleywonderful @cassiancalore @igniscorde7112 @illyrian-high-lord @daughterxofxnight @bigsis227 @crazybookladythings @gcarroll @sugarcoated44 @wolffrising @notjustanyoldfangirl @bluephoenix222

If you have any requests, prompts, ideas, asks, questions or just want a bit of a chat my inbox is open and is a safe space. 

Much love and many thanks for all the support.


anonymous asked:

Can you do a reisaru fic with fushimi like high on painkillers or high in general?? I just can't imagine how the alphabet squad and seri would react to fushimi being high and outing him and munakata and being all goofy

Aw but imagine Fushimi being all high on painkillers and so he’s suddenly being all giddy and almost romantic and Munakata of course finds it adorable (and also takes a little advantage of the situation in order to do some hospital-safe bonding activities). Like say Fushimi gets injured during a fight with some Strains post-ROK, he’s pretty badly injured and has to be rushed to the hospital. Eventually the doctors inform Munakata and the rest of Scepter 4 that Fushimi’s going to be fine but he has to stay in hospital for a few days and also he’s going to need some high-dosage painkillers for a bit. Munakata gets to go in first to see Fushimi and when he walks in Fushimi just looks up at him for a long moment, not speaking. Munakata’s initially a little concerned like ‘Fushimi-kun…?’ Then Fushimi breaks into the widest, goofiest grin that he’s ever worn in his life as he gives this happy little ‘Captain!’ Munakata is surprised and a bit amused to find that Fushimi high on painkillers is surprisingly affectionate, like Munakata sits down in the chair next to the bed to ask about his condition and Fushimi just keeps smiling and wanting to play with Captain’s uniform and telling Munakata that he smells good, has anyone ever told him how good he smells. Munakata just smiles softly and is like my, no one ever has told me that Fushimi-kun. Fushimi is very proud to be the first to tell Munakata how good he smells.

Eventually Awashima and the rest of the alphabet squad file in to check on Fushimi and they’re all a bit amused and possibly slightly thrown off by how giddy Fushimi is. Maybe the rest of the squad doesn’t know that Fushimi and Munakata are together and Fushimi keeps almost spilling the beans in front of everyone, like he’ll be talking to Hidaka and then he tugs on Munakata’s sleeve and tries to kiss him and Munakata has to smoothly deflect him. Munakata personally has no problem with everyone knowing of course, he is proud to show off his Fushimi-kun, but he knows that once the painkillers wear off Fushimi would be brooding and upset about it and Munakata’s trying to keep things under wraps for his sake. Awashima at least starts to suspect though, like she sees the way Fushimi keeps clinging to Munakata’s sleeve and smiling, and maybe at one point she walks in on them doing a puzzle together in Fushimi’s hospital room and Fushimi’s leaning his head on Munakata’s shoulder a little and she makes certain to make a little extra noise as she walks in to give Munakata time to gently move Fushimi back onto the pillow (ooh and then imagine like Kusanagi walking in on super high Fushimi being all clingy and affectionate to Munakata and Kusanagi’s eyes just narrow as he notes that he’s come in at a bad time apparently, he and Munakata proceed to passive aggressive each other about the relationship). Once the painkillers wear off Fushimi is all mortified by having so many positive emotions while Munakata notes that while he pleased to have Fushimi back to normal he did find high Fushimi quite charming as well.

Feyre & Ianthe

Can you just imagine Feyre pretending to like Ianthe while she’s back at the spring court spying on Tamlin?

Feyre: It’s so great to see you again! *Internally screaming*

Ianthe: Yes, you poor thing! I heard Rhysand forced you into a mating bond!

Feyre: *Resisting urge to bitch slap Ianthe* Yes, but the King of Hybern broke it. 

Ianthe: *Looks delighted* So Rhysand’s available then?


00Q and Cherry Blossoms

(( for the beautiful @opalescentgold for the bored prompts. In all seriousness this ficlet made me do more Bond research than I’ve done in months for any of my epics. Also, did you know that it’s a forty minute tube ride from Bond’s canon address to MI6 and a twenty minute car ride? ))

In all honesty, Bond had never noticed it until the spring after the incident at Skyfall. Granted, it hadn’t been in his life until shortly before and even then it had been in a state of dormancy. He supposed it would be something other people would notice in their mundane, warless lives. Yet, it wasn’t like he came upon it unexpectedly, Bond knew that it was logical for such a thing to begin blooming around this time with such a climate and environment. However, the spot in which it had taken root and flourished surprised him.

Of course, the “it” in question was the large cherry tree at Notting Hill Gate. In full bloom and situated just across the road from where Bond got off the tube on his way home, it wasn’t as if the blossoms were hard to miss. The gnarling branches wound together, tightly confined in the small garden space between the front of the stark white flat and the pavement. Whimsy branches reaching out, cloaked in satin petals that reflected their pink tint on to their surroundings in the midday London sun.

James was a bewildered by his sudden urge to approach the tree. The double 0 had never considered himself one to indulge in the frilly prettiness of the soft petals the rained down when the wind blew just right, and drawing attention to himself so close to his MI6 purchased flat wouldn’t be great for his cover. So, Bond tamped down the urge and continued on with the rest of his forty minute journey.

And despite all this, Bond’s new found fascination with flowering trees had absolutely nothing to do with the bouquet of cherry blossoms that appeared on Q’s desk with following morning. Nor did it have anything to do with the hour or so of destroyed security camera footage hidden deep in the databank of Bond’s computer.

IronHawk (Three)

Welcome back to IronHawk!
This is a long chapter and ugh Tony is sad :( but everyone tries to be there for him. Also, poor Clint, and Banner is a good bro.

Check out previous chapters HERE.

Like or reblog to be tagged in updates! And of course I love to hear from you guys so drop by my ask box if you want to chat!!

“So doc, what’s the verdict? Can I go back on my pills yet?”

Tony sat in his doctor’s office, ankle crossed over knee, fingers tapping anxiously. The last few weeks had been… trying. It seemed like every day he became more sensitive to everything. Smells that never bothered him now made him sneeze. Certain fabrics irritated his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept more than an hour or two, because his bed felt big and empty and foreign.
And he was overly…aware. Of everything.

The way Natasha smelled of satisfaction and pride after a night with Pepper sent longing zinging through his body. The way the Witch’s hips moved as she tried to catch Bruce’s attention made him want to do the same to-NOPE don’t think that. Even the way the Captain couldn’t quite stop the red in his eyes after a battle made Tony ache for the presence of an Alpha.

And that was the whole issue. While on suppressants, everything had been muted, even if he hadn’t realized it. The dynamics between any couple, much less alpha/omega pairs had been something he couldn’t care less about. But now it was all he could think about.

And Clint had persisted in basically ignoring Tony. Their easy, teasing friendship from before had disappeared since Tony’s-let’s just call it an incident. Since the incident-  and it didn’t help that Tony was feeling like he was hard wired to Clint’s presence.

Every time the archer entered a room, Tony wanted to sit up, straighten his clothes, bare his neck. And Hawkeye had ignored it all. To the point where other people were starting to notice. Natasha had asked twice if everything was okay between them, and so had Steve. Hawkeye had simply shrugged and ignored the questions.

Tony wanted to cry every time.

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iamdragoonthegreat  asked:

For Kylux Force-bond: Hux gets what he wants, and he and Kylo work as one body, fighting, working, etc. On the downside, Hux realizes he's just as helpless in the bond as Kylo is, and being apart is a special kind of horrible. Feeeelings!

Hux keys in the lock code and slumps against the door. His head is pounding. His shoulders are shaking with withdrawal.

This will be his third night alone on Illum base. His comlink chirps with constant messages from Ren, begging to know why he is being punished. He pulls it out of his pocket and hurls it against the wall. Crossing the floor, he slumps into a chair and buries his face in his hands.

This is a test. Fingers trembling, he picks up the bottle of sleeping pills from the table and fumbles with the safety cap. Prying it open, he swallows a handful, heedless of the dosage. He follows them up with a gulp of cloudy tap water. They didn’t work last night. He is so desperate to sleep that his exhaustion-addled brain thinks nothing of the danger of overdosing.

In the aftermath of defeating Snoke, it had been so easy to put it out of his mind. But as the high of victory begins to recede, he has been forced to confront the limits of his own control. To his great dismay, he has found himself thoughtlessly over-indulging.

His bond with Ren is everything he could have hoped for. Ren’s power is at his disposal. Ren’s mind is meek and easily hushed. At times, their bodies move and act as one, and Hux feels possessed of four hands, four eyes, two mouths. Ren’s broad shoulders loom beside him and he inhabits them, owns them. Ren hands him things before he asks for them- his datapad, his gloves -always sensing his needs, always ready to serve him.

It’s intoxicating, this power, but at its heart lies a dangerous weakness. The key to controlling Ren is Hux’s ability to withhold affection from him. Without it, he has no leverage, no carrot or stick. Hux stumbles into bed, not even bothering to remove his boots. He’s exhausted, but his body is restless. It won’t sleep without its other half. He groans, smothering his face in the pillow, and prepares to pass many sweaty, rolling, hallucinatory hours.

In the morning, Ren is scrabbling at the door.

“I told you to stay out of this sector of the base,” Hux yells.

“Why are you doing this?” Ren whines. “I’ve done everything you asked.” Hux folds the pillow over his head, covering his ears. “I know you want it too,” says Ren, suddenly sounding like a threat. He touches the bond and Hux curses, throwing up mental shields as thickly as he can.

Hux tries to get up, to reach for his blaster on the table, but his body won’t cooperate with him. The exhaustion is so acute that when he tries to raise his head, it swims with violet stars. “Go away,” he says lamely.

Ren gives a low, crazed chuckle. “You can’t keep this up,” he says. “You’ll come back to me. All I have to do is stand out here and wait.”

Hux grits his teeth, shoring up his mental shields. Ren’s desire- the desire to merge, completely and permanently -is a constant pressure against his mind. This wouldn’t be so alarming if there wasn’t a similar, answering pressure from within himself. He knew the bond would produce… urges. But he assumed he would be able to manage them.

He takes a deep breath, his chest sobbing. The separation is making him physically ill. In modifying Ren to suit him, he did all he could to avoid being modified to suit Ren. But it wasn’t enough. The bond has reshaped him, body and mind, transformed him into a weak, dependent creature. “I’ll do what is necessary,” he says. He knows Ren is sick too, suffering too. It’s only a matter of holding out longer than him.

Ren plunges into the bond’s glowing mass, a dense bundle of live wires, and Hux’s chest leaps, his back arching against the bed. Ren’s frantic, needy promises of union are electrocuting him.

When he opens his eyes, Ren is standing over the bed. Hux starts, his traitor hand dropping the remote to the floor with a plastic thud. His twitching fingers entered the lock code, he realizes, without his permission. He scrambles on the bed for purchase, trying to right himself, but Ren jumps in on top of him, immobilizing Hux with his weight. He rolls Hux over onto his side, arms and legs wrapping around him like vices.

“Hold still,” says Ren. “You’ve deprived us both of sleep.” He kisses Hux’s forehead, pouring brain-melting tingles into Hux’s skull. “We are going to sleep now.”

The bond ignites, pushing emotion between them like currant. Hux cries out as Ren holds him down, forcing him to take it all in. Nerves leap, wiring every part to every other, and they are one body again.

“You won’t withhold this from me anymore,” Ren growls. Hux nods helplessly against him, pleasure saturating his body and mind until he droops and drips with it, like a cake dipped in rum. Summoning the remote to his hand, Ren holds it in front of Hux’s blurring eyes. “Enter the code,” he demands, gently. Hux obeys, hearing the vault-like door swung shut and lock behind him. Ren levitates the remote into the air and makes a fist, crumpling it into a jagged ball of plastic and wires. “I didn’t bring my saber,” says Ren, sensing Hux’s thoughts. “No cutting through the walls.” Unless Ren can use the Force to get them out, they are trapped inside this room until someone on the base comes looking for them.

Drunk on Ren’s nearness, Hux rubs against him, fussing and whimpering. His reasons for wanting to separate them are rapidly receding from his mind- all he can think of now is getting closer. Ren’s ecstasy breaks over him in waves as Ren’s mind relaxes, his body yielding. Hux feels a heady rush of power as both bodies respond to his will as one- a single, unified entity under his command. He rolls them across the bed, posing them like dolls, tightening arms around waists and bringing their mouths together. It’s so strong, but exhausted, his twin vessel. It needs time to knit itself back together, after spending so long split in half. Ren mentioned sleep, he thinks. It sounds like the right idea.

i interpreted birth charts pls look it took me so long thank u

this is just the hyung line this is the maknae’s

someone asked me about bts’s birth charts and i ended up getting way too into it so now there’s this i’m sorry also i don’t know the time of their births so position of the planets might not be entirely accurate and i don’t know their ascendants tragic

the books i used for this r stephen arroyo’s chart interpretation and spiritual astrology by jan spiller and karen mccoy

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Roses Are Red...- an Elucien fic

Small Elucien fic set somewhere in the projected middle of ACOTAR 3 based on this beautiful little WIP by the very talented @meabhd (hope you don’t mind; but it was too cute to resist!) 

Title: Roses Are Red…

Summary: Set post ACOMAF; the Spring Court has settled and Feyre brings her court and sisters to stay. On a walk through the gardens she comes across Lucien and Elain finally managing to steal a moment together amidst all the chaos. 

Link: AO3 

It’s odd, being back at the Spring Court now. So much has changed since Tamlin first brought me here. I’ve changed. The world has changed. But the gardens at least remain - beautiful as ever – if not more so now. I find comfort in them still, in the peace and quiet and the fresh open spaces, so unlike the oppressive darkness that still stalks my nightmares sometimes.

Colour and shape burst out at me from every direction – each plant simultaneously vying for my complete attention and focus while also blending with the beds around them to give a pleasant overall effect. It’s something I’ll have to try and capture the next time I paint, making everything stand out yet meld perfectly together at the same time.

The sound of quiet voices and gentle laughter interrupts me and jolts me out of my reverie. Looking up I see Elain, Elain walking through the gardens arm in arm with Lucien. I blink in surprise at the sight of my friend and sister together. I’d been trying all week without success to encourage him to just talk to my sister since we’d brought her here.

Everything about this court suits Elain, right down to the magic that now burns in her veins that she can use to grow any plant into any shape she chooses. I know she’s already used it to spruce up some of the darker, emptier areas of the Spring Court, letting it run wild with the raw power that infuses the air in this court. She’s radiant and I’ve never seen her look prettier, or happier, than she has done here.

But Lucien had avoided her, barely looking at her if they were in the room and as far as I knew they hadn’t said two words to each other and now they’re walking together through the gardens, Elain comfortably holding Lucien’s arm and letting him lead her, as though they do this every day, and have done for decades.

They both look happy. Elain is laughing almost continually at whatever Lucien is saying and there’s a light twinkling in his russet eye that I realise I’ve never truly seen before, kindled every time he looks at her. And the smile on his face – such a rare sight after the darkness that’s plagued him these months – is different from the ones I’ve seen there before. It’s warm and soft and tempered with a tenderness I might not have believed. He looks younger and whole somehow, in a way he never did before, as though he needed Elain’s light to contrast and bring out this last part of him and complete him.

I watch them from my place by a large, bold pot full of sunflowers larger than any I’ve ever seen before – one of Elain’s additions to the garden – as they meander comfortably along the gravel paths. They seem at ease with one another, already connecting the way the bond between them urges them to do, but both a little shy and unsure of themselves all the same.

They pause on the edge of a bed full of demure little blue flowers and Lucien turns to her, looking more hesitant than I’ve ever seen him before. I’m used to the confident, silver-tongued emissary, witty, thoughtless remarks to everything bursting out of him with arrogant ease, heedless and careless, saying what he thought whatever it cost him – a lesson that losing his eye even hadn’t taught him – but here, with Elain, I swear I hear him stumble as he speaks to her.

Elain’s smile is shy when she nods to him, letting her body tentatively brush against hers as she moves in closer to him, peering at something in his hands. With a flourish Lucien produces a large bouquet of flowers, red roses dotted with smaller blue violets and Elain gasps in surprise, evident awe and delight at the sudden appearance of the flowers and I duck my head, hiding my smile.

Typically Lucien. But the pretty blush that spreads across my sister’s face as she accepts the flowers from him with a sweet smile and smells them, her eyes still on him quickly softens me again. He might not be particularly subtle or reserved about it but his exuberance seems to appeal to her.

I glance up at them again in time to see Elain stand on her toes, one hand on Lucien’s shoulder encouraging him down to her so she can kiss him on the cheek in thanks for the flowers, flushing furiously as she does so and peering shyly up at him over the flowers in her hands as she sinks back down again, watching him anxiously for his reaction.

Lucien blushes, actually blushes, his skin flaring as deeply red as his hair and rubs the back of his neck as a broad smile spreads across his face. Elain giggles again clearly very pleased with this and stands up again to gently kiss his other cheek. Lucien’s blush deepens even further and I stare at him in utter amazement as he dithers on the spot before leaning down and very gently kissing Elain’s nose.

She blinks at him in amazement for a moment then a laugh bursts from her a full, loud, rich laugh that I’ve never heard before. The smile that Lucien gives her in answer to this transforms his face and the light that blazes in his eyes is more than I’ve ever seen before, more than I ever believed was left inside him. But somehow she found it.

Reaching out Elain takes his hand in hers, her other hand still holding tightly onto the bunch of flowers he gave her and leads him assertively through the gardens, pointing out what looks to be her favourite flowers while he trails meekly along in her wake, drinking in every word she speaks as though it’s the air he breathes. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it, the tall, angled High Fae, a trained and talented warrior in his own right, who stands at least a foot taller than the slim, willowy girl who leads him around, but there’s a certain rightness to it that I can’t get away from.

As I watch them I feel someone shift and step up beside me and I turn in time to find Nesta draw level with me, her arms crossed over her chest, her piercing gaze fixed steadily on Lucien and Elain, now bending down to examine a row of delicate white snowdrops while Elain prattles steadily to Lucien. He makes a no doubt sarcastic comment and to my delighted surprise I watch her very gently shove him in protest then yelps in alarm and hastily grabs his arm as he nearly overbalances and topples into the flower bed, caught unawares.

I tear my eyes away from them to blink at Nesta instead, who still watches them with unflinching focus, “You’re not going to interrupt them are you?” I ask gently but my hand reaches out to touch her elbow, ready to stop her if she tries. They both deserve this.

But Nesta just shakes her head, “No,” she says simply without looking at me, her lips quirking into a faint smile, “It’s about time they at least talked.”

I stare at her in amazement for a moment. I knew that discovering her own mating bond with Cassian and gaining a new understanding of what that was like might have changed her views on it but she was always so fiercely protective of Elain that I hadn’t expected her to allow Lucien within twenty feet of her before she’d taken the time to assess him and decide.

There’s something a little too knowing in Nesta’s smirk and my eyes widen as I say slowly, “I never told Lucien that her favourite flowers are roses and violets…” Nesta’s smile broadens just enough to confirm my suspicions, “You did this?” I demand, thunderstruck, “How?” Lucien had resisted every effort I’d made at encouraging him to talk to Elain, no matter what I said or did.

Nesta’s smile is nothing short of wicked, “You were being too gentle,” she says, blithely examining her nails.

“I hope you didn’t damage him permanently,” I say, examining Lucien a little more closely but if the encounter with Nesta scarred him he certainly isn’t showing it now as he gently tucks one of the violets from her bouquet into Elain’s hair.

“No,” Nesta says evenly, “He just needed a little push in the right direction, that’s all.”

I stare pointedly at her but she only shrugs half-heartedly, clearly not about to spill her secrets to me any time soon. We both turn to watch them again and I say softly, “She looks so happy,” Nesta’s razor-sharp smile softens as she notes this too and nods her approval.

“He’s better for her than that Fae-hating bastard she was going to marry,” she sniffs and a flicker of understanding at her interference runs through me at her words.

Nesta saw two men react to Elain, the one who gave her an iron wedding ring and would have hunted her down and butchered her if he ever found out what she’d become; and the one who would roar and fight and storm at kings to protect her and slaughter anyone who dared come near her. And she found a glimmer of her own spirit in Lucien; a kindred desire to protect, to burn the world to ash for those that matter, and she understood.

“He’s good for her,” I say quietly as I watch Elain smile and playfully toss some remark out to Lucien that makes him blink in surprise then offer her a wolfish smile of encouragement and toss something right back to her.

I’ve never seen her as assertive or confident before. He brings out the spirit that she wraps in soft, sweet smiles; the spark of something that makes her able to handle Lucien’s fire and bite by drawing out a little of her own. Nesta nods her agreement and approval, a small smile curving her lips as she notices the same thing I do.

And I know, as I look up to see Elain cupping Lucien’s face in her hand, the side that bears the metal eye and the brutal scar and see the tension that flares in him at the contact and the way it melts away as she lightly strokes the slash in his skin with her thumb, a gentleness he’s rarely known, that she’ll be good for him too. And that they deserve this. They deserve each other.

“I’m glad you pushed him into talking to her,” I say to Nesta, knowing how hard it must have been for her to unbend her pride and go to him after spitting at him and rejecting him before, to give him another chance and let him see that decision.

But Nesta just nods, “So am I,” she bites her lip as though wondering whether or not to speak but at last she says, “With everything that’s going on just now…The war that’s coming…I thought she should have a chance at this,” she gestures to where Elain and Lucien stand together, talking quietly, “At getting to know someone who could make her feel,” she tightens her lips and I know I won’t get more from her but I don’t need to to know what, who changed her mind about this.

We both look up in time to see Elain stand on her toes and softly kiss Lucien’s cheek once again in farewell before hurrying off, glancing over her shoulder at him and giving him a little wave as she goes. Lucien stands in the middle of the path gazing after her, looking a little dazed, lightly brushing his cheek where she kissed him. In his hands is a small round flower in various hues of red and orange and I realise she must have used her magic to make it just for him.

No but what if Helena has a nightmare and Alison doesn’t know what to do so she tries to calm her down like she does her kids? She gets Helena to cuddle her and once Helena is comfortable she begins to softly sing until Helena is asleep.

Even sexuality isn’t inexplicable, naturalistic biological reactions aren’t inexplicable either. And tbh there’s only a portion of sexuality that is biological imo and only for some people, not everyone.

A lot of sexuality is socially constructed, a lot of it arises from social dynamics and that affects all of our sexualities on a lot of levels. Pure animal urges to bond and reproduce may be at the core but there’s a lot of sociopsychological trappings on even your interest in men or women or multiple genders.

I know people don’t like to hear this because you’ve got a silly idea of what social construct means so I’ll fix that now, Social Constructs are real they simply arise from society. It’s about source.

Wanderlust-Mischief: My ship is obvi Destiel, object is a pillow, && location is a small apartment in NY.

A/N: Sorry this took so long! This is an AU (kinda), it takes place sometime after they end up losing Sam and the bunker no longer feels like home.

Dean still had no fucking idea why he agreed to this.

Not only was he exhausted from moving halfway across the country, but he was living in this small ass apartment in the middle of New York City. He wasn’t complaining about that though… in fact he kind of liked it. Small worked. It was cozy.

No, it wasn’t the apartment that was bothering him. It was Cas.

Cas, who was curled up near his side, taking up the majority of the bed. The covers included. Dean could complain about the space, but in reality—the bed wasn’t big enough to fit both of them either.

Nope, it wasn’t the bed that was bothering him. It was Cas.

The fallen angel was snoring. And Dean had no idea that Cas was such a heavy sleeper. He was noisy, and impressively resistant to Dean’s continuous attempts to wake the man up. Fuck, it’s not like he carried any of the boxes up here. Why the fuck was he so tired?

Dean sighed loudly and shifted his position, now lying on his side—facing Cas. He watched the other man for what seemed like hours and listened as the snoring slowly faded away.

Dean found that he missed it.

No… It wasn’t the noise that was bothering him. It was just Cas.

“I still can’t believe you forgot to pack the pillows…” Dean mumbled quietly; mostly to himself. He wasn’t angry, not anymore. And he shouldn’t really be blaming Cas, but he couldn’t help it.

Cas only brought one pillow. It was the last thing he grabbed before heading out the bunker because he wanted to sleep the entire way to New York. Dean understood. He was human now. He needed it.

“We have one.” A gravelly voice responded.

Dean scoffed. Yeah, now he decides to wake up. It was true though. They had the one pillow. And Cas insisted they share it since Dean overreacted about the lack of pillows in the apartment. He was too tired to drive to the store for new ones.

Cas opened his eyes and stared at Dean. ‘Personal space’ boundaries clearly ignored as they were only inches apart.

It wasn’t an awkward silence that followed that statement. But Dean was at a sudden loss for words. Cas was close. Their heads even closer as they struggled to stay on the single pillow. 

Fuck. It was Cas.

It was Castiel, fallen Angel of the Lord, who was staring intently at Dean– almost waiting for a response, but comfortable with the silence.

It was Cas and their God damn ‘profound bond’ along with Dean’s urge to scoot closer, but knowing that once he does. Things will never be the same.

And it was also Dean. ‘The Righteous Man’. Saved by an angel. Who watched as Cas pulled back the covers and threw them over the other man once he realized he had taken them all in his sleep, ignoring the sudden overwhelming thought that ‘maybe everything is going to be alright.’


Dean, too caught up in his thoughts didn’t even notice the sudden warmth against him immediately. It was Cas. Who made the first move.

And it was also Cas, who gave ‘Being kissed by an Angel’ an entirely new meaning.

Dean doesn’t even like sleeping with pillows.


Angel Anatomy 101

Angel anatomy isn’t really detailed upon in the original series, so corinthians!verse has worked on some headcanon surrounding how angels work. It’s based on a heck of a lot of flakey science, and is always open to correction and suggestion.

Whilst angels exist on multiple planes and have several forms ranging from four-faced monsters to classic winged fey creatures, you can look at them as a whole as a wavelength/singularity of divine and celestial intent.

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anonymous asked:

OQ 11 (Regina sub)

(Totally gonna cheat here and just give you an extended preview of Shades… So I guess, don’t read this if you don’t wanna be spoiled for that when I finally finish it…)

“I love you,” he says, because he wants her to hear it, wants her to know it, and she pulls back a little, smiling sweetly at him. That way she does when he’s truly touched her. She tells him she loves him too, and **thank you for trying this**, and Robin gives her one more sweet, gentle kiss before centering himself and tapping her chin resolutely, lifting it up. She raises it a half inch, dutifully, looks him right in the eyes for a moment, then away, down, as if she’s not allowed. “I believe you’re due a punishment.”

“Yes, Sir,” she confirms.

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