#(I reveal the name of the establishment I'm welcoming you to. It's called I Need To Finish And Share Things Or I Will Die)

[merrigel]

There was something going around on instagram where you'd find a singing voice for your OCs, and I really liked the song I found for Av so!! A silly little scribbled thing!! (please don't ask where a 1700s pirate got a microphone LMAO

Also, bonus:

[captainjacklyn]

Twisted Wonderland x Dragon!Yuu PART 3

Context : Yuu is dragged by the headmaster to who knows where while they carry on their arms, a very feisty fire cat. Upon arriving in the room full of strangely dressed people, a couple of incidents happen to take place just a couple of minutes later.

Tag List : @candlewitch-cryptic

Warning(s) : none really, fire with butts on fire, riddle is mean like he canonically was in the prologue, if I missed anything please notify me.

Prologue [Fiery Issue] - Episode 2 :

loud sounds of footsteps and incomprehensible mumbling could be heard across the hallway. A confused dragon in human form tried to reason with the presumably called 'headmaster crowley' to explain their situation, all while handling a very angry raccoon aggressively biting their hand.

"Sir Crowley, you must understand that there is a huge misunderstanding, I woke up here out of sheer coincidence and not once was I informed of attending a school for humans- I mean wizards. I myself aren't fit for such a position considering my level with magic-" He was quick to cut them off with a statement of his own, "There is no need to utter such nonsense ! The school wouldn't just pick up a student on the street to attend in this prestigious establishment ! Consider yourself lucky and flattered !" while saying the last part he smiled in satisfaction.

[lucky how exactly ?] Yuu thought to themselves while trying to keep their composure and find a way to tell them to let you go without revealing your identity. Of course you could just do so and get on with it, but not everyone reacts very well to the revelation. "MMHMHM !" the irritated fire cat muffled out it's own claims but to no avail as Yuu gripped him a little tighter and spoke under their breath. "Hush, you'll get back home in a minute, just calm down alright ?" "mmhm.." they groggily groaned back and the struggling temporarily stopped.

______________________________________________________________

Mirror Chamber - Entrance ceremony

Chatter filled the room as students began to get up from their seats to head out with their assigned group. "Is that all for the new student dorm assignments ? Listen up new students. Here in Heartslabyul I am the rules, break them and its off with your head." a red haired boy spoke firmly, another man with Lion ears followed with an introduction of his own. "..Uuugh. The stuffy ceremony is finally over. We're going back to the dorms, Savannaclaws follow me.."

"To the new students, congratulation on entering this academy. Enjoy your life here to the fullest." a confident boy with glasses welcomed the other individuals, "As the dormitory leader of Octavinelle, I will support you to the best of my abilities." then, a beautiful man brought the attention to something else, "By the way, where did the headmaster go ? he flew out right in the middle of the ceremony.." "abandoning his post.." A floating tablet commented.

"Did he get a stomach ache or something ?" another boy with a turban added his own assertion, only to be interrupted by the sound of doors slamming open and the voice of said headmaster. "Not at all !" "Ah he's here." the red haired boy uttered once more. "I cannot believe you all. We were missing one new student so I went to find them." crowley explained as he then turned his attention to Yuu, "You are the only one yet to be assigned a dormitory. I shall watch over the raccoon, step in front of the Dark Mirror."

[....I should just play along and hope that relic doesn't prove that strange man right...How could I go from one of the admirals of the Harmony faction to a human pupil..] Yuu let their mind run free as they hesitantly walked towards the Dark mirror that soon asked, "State thy name." [..In the name of Thor..I'm going to have to curse this artifact..] "Yuu/(Name)." their (e/c) eyes lighting up faintly whilst answering.

"The shape of thy soul is.." it continued, but didn't keep going as if waiting for something to happen.

"..." it's 'eyebrows' lifted, surprised. Yuu waited for an answer, the suspense making them somewhat tense up.

[..it's working..]

"..........." the Dark Mirror's expression turned to confusion.

[...how long does this last.]

"........................." it then started to presumably frown.

[...so..?]

"I do not know." [YES !] Yuu lifted their fist up to try and inaudibly express their relief with success in being able to cast a spell. "Come again ?!" Crowley exclaimed, "I sense not a spark of magic from this one..No color, no shape, all are nothing. therefore they are not suited for any dormitory." [harsh.] for all that, they didn't really need to care anymore, as long as the result was what they wanted. "It was as I told you, I do not possess any magical prowess."

"But an ebony carriage would absolutely never go meet someone who can't use magic !" he tried retorting Yuu's claims, "In 100 years there has not been a mistake in student selection. So why in the world.." he placed an thinking hand under his chin, not realizing that his grip on the fur ball loosened. "Mghmgh..Pah !" it yanked it's head away, seemingly angry about the whole ordeal as it declared : "Then I'll take their place !" The headmaster snapped out of his trance and tried scolding it, "Stay right there ! Raccoon !"

"Unlike that dumb human, I can use actual magic ! Let me in the school instead !" the raccoon defended itself, "if you need proof I'll show you right now !" it continued before positioning itself on all four and inhaling a strong breath in. As if to understand what was coming next, the red haired boy yelled out "Everyone get down !"

"Nnaah !" the talking cat puffed out his infamous fireball, "Waah ! Hottt! My butt's on fire !" the boy in the turban panicked as fire caught on his backside, "Tch ! Suck ups.." the man with lion ears groaned. The beautiful student from earlier couldn't help but comment on the lion's irritation, "Hmm ? Aren't you good at hunting ? Doesn't it look like a nice, plump snack ?" The beastman snapped back, "Why me ? Do it yourself." the boy with the turban was jumping up and down trying to get rid of the flames on his back side. "Umm, hey, could someone put out my butt fire already ?!" he screamed.

"At this rate the school will be a sea of fire ! Somebody catch that raccoon !" [can he get rid of anymore responsibilities...?] the dragon in disguise human let out an exasperated sigh "Hey." a stern voice broke the commotion, Yuu stood in front of the source of chaos.

"huh ?" it's eyes widened in confusion, "Fnagh ! You ! How did you get here so quickly ?!" it yelped in surprise, not knowing how this strange being shifted from one place to another without making a sound. "I told you to calm down earlier, did I not ? Is it that hard for you to not cause trouble ? That creature really acts like a member of the chaos faction.." they mumbled the last part under their breath as they stared down at the grey haired fur ball. Meanwhile, it was too busy being paralyzed out of fear, why was its fur standing on end ? Surely it isn't that intimidated.

The next thing that was expected to happen was a blow, but nothing came. "Stop. it." Yuu scolded as they aggressively patted his head, slowly pushing him down. "You. need. to. stop. You're quite literally burning down the school you so dearly wish to attend." They began to tap grim with their fingers in an attempt to annoy him to end his foolish acts.

Surprisingly..

It did work.

I hope you stay tuned for part 4 !

[exoticalmonde]

LUNDInium Outskirts /Part VIII and 1/2 /

As promised, PART 2 of the previous LUNDInium outskirts is here! It's been brought up to my attention that I spoke a lot about my own room last time, so I'm going to start my post with my favourite meme:

---

We couldn't hold back and just had to make a bunch of memes with the flat colours. I didn't expect Lundi to finish them so quickly, but maybe the extra love we gave the doodles were the button she needed pressed. I adore them so much.

In a surprising turn of events, I learned recently that the gun emote that's been used here is from a game called True Crime: Streets of LA. You're welcome

---

He does that... Incredibly often, I'm pressy sure that if he wasn't a Lord guard he could be doing incantations.

---

Followers of the series know where this is from.

---

This is an important addition to the Pinkie memes

---

Dr. Kryo voice: "Detecting multiple leviathan class lifeforms in the region. Are you certain whatever you're doing is worth it?"

---

HERE IS THE REVEAL!!!! Including some of our most frequent quotes.

The file is so large it was loading for 5 minutes oh goodness...

---

Since the last time I couldn't cover Dr. Pinkie's room, she has very nicely decided to cooperate and is releaving the full beauty of the rooms. What do you have to say about them?

Dr. Pinkie: "Uh... I like restaurants and I like showing off my medals."

But didn't we establish that the banners and plaques aren't limited anymore? All of us have them.

Dr. Pinkie: "But the plaques from previous events... Is it Restoration?"

Yeah... You wouldn't know, you played all of the events and got the plaques from the first time.

Dr. Pinkie: "You guys dont have THIS rainbow gymbadge set."

Fair.

Dr. Pinkie:

---

I NEEDED TO SHOW THIS IT'S UNREASONABLY FUNNY TO ME

Oh, horse plinko... we're really in it this time...

---

Also, Dr. Pinkie has worked hard and managed to commission a sweetheart by the name of Akaichinhos to make emotes for us and after a short and impatient while of waiting these are the results!

Of course, GIFs did happen too.

I think my favourite has to be the names... HOEH; PinkAAA; AtomicTangerine; ShiaKazing; skumbananer; Lundie I'm suffocating here---

[noir-renard]

In hindsight, they probably should not have let Damian take the reins on contacting the erratically behaving Batmobile. But Robin is Batman's partner, Damian had argued, and as the current bearer of the name, establishing contact with Batman is my responsibility.

Mostly, Dick just wanted it to be a confidence building exercise. What's the harm? He'd thought. This is standard procedure, he'd assured himself.

When Bruce didn’t answer the voice call on the first ring, the assurance made way for a hint of doubt. When it went straight to voicemail, the doubt grew.

"Try again," Dick suggested.

"I know," Damian snapped.

The second time they called, it was rejected.

"Third time's a charm, that's what I always say," said Tim, already hacking into any satellites close to Bruce’s last know location.

"You would say that," said Jason, who was hanging around pretending he didn't care what happened to Bruce and doing a bad job of it.

Bruce’s hands were probably just busy. And he couldn’t use voice commands. Or some other explanation that they'd all laugh at, someday.

"Call him one more time, Damian."

Fortunately, the call was answered this time.

Unfortunately, it wasn't Bruce.

The face looking back at them from the dash cam face chat was not, in fact, Bruce. Or anyone Dick recognized. It did have some similar qualities that usually ended with Dick saying "You have a problem, Bruce," or "did you really need to adopt another kid?"

"Sorry for hanging up on you guys, this car has like a thousand buttons and none of them are labeled. It's alarmingly easy to accidentally turbo boost the car instead of answer the call—"

"Identify yourself," Damian said pointedly.

"Uh, hi, I'm Danny," said the adoption bait driving the Batmobile, sass levels matching ghost peppers on the scoville scale. "Batman's fine by the way, if you even care—"

Something exploded in the background as the speaker—Danny, apparently—swore and swerved around a corner.

"—or he is for now, but we're in a bit of a pickle."

"Where is Batman?" asked Damian.

"Backseat" —Danny jabbed his thumb behind him to underscore the point— "He's not unconscious but he can't drive—"

"What did you do to him?" Asked Jason.

"Me? I saved his ass is what I did. There I was, kidnapped by a billionaire—typical tuesday stuff, you know how it is—so I was trying to make the most of things and destroy a bunch of projects when BATMAN drops from the ceiling, boots covered in ectoplasm" —Danny paused, cursing as he banked the steering wheel left and avoiding another explosion— "and he wouldnt leave me behind! I had it handled, but we were still hashing out the deets, so to speak, when Vlad comes in, mad about, and I quote, 'corporate espionage', which is hypocritical of him, really—"

Dick didn't catch the next thing Danny said, on account of something green flying through the window and attacking him. Danny didn’t seem surprised by this, just annoyed. He grabbed the green thing (still unidentifiable) by the scruff and through it out the window literally. Without breaking the glass.

"Did you say Vlad?" asked Tim. "As in Vlad Masters?"

"So you have the misfortune of knowing him, too," said Danny, like he wasn't talking about one of the regular topper of the Forbes 200 list.

"Long story short," Danny continued, "I blew up the evil lab and got out of dodge with an injured Batman, you're all very welcome. Now, is there any way you could send, like, a jet? Maybe a helicopter? You guys have one of those, right?"

Dick was rarely speechless, and this was no exception. But he was, perhaps, reaching a state of speechless-adjacent.

How can someone say so much and reveal so little?

"Why do you need air transportation, Danny?" Dick cut in.

"Well, we're kind of in the middle of nowhere, and I figured you probably do all your medical stuff in house anyway, and he might need a blood transfusion—"

"Blood transfusion?" Damian hissed. "He's bleeding?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"You said he was fine!" Tim pointed out. Enthusiastically.

"He's fine-ish? He used something from his belt to stop the gushing, but I doubt it's a long-term solution based on what I know about medical stuff, though admittedly I learned most of it from Grey's Anatomy—"

"Danny, focus," tried Dick.

"Why is he bleeding?" Asked Jason.

Danny shrugged. "Didn't dodge the invisible vampire fast enough, I guess. I was dealing with the bomb at the time."

"Invisible—" Dick took a deep breath. "So it's a puncture wound?"

"More of a piercing slashing kind of deal? What's that?" He turned around and leaned into the backseat, apparently talking to Bruce. "He says it missed the femoral and renal arteries, but may have nicked his spleen? He estimates he has a couple hours until he—oh, I don't think I should tell them that over the phone, Batman—"

"What is it with this family and spleens," Tim mumbled.

Dick wished for a pillow to scream into, but there wasn't time for that kind of personal breakdown mid-crisis. He'd do it later. He already had the pillow selected in his mind (it was a Superman Squishmallow. Perfect for screaming into.)

"We are sending the Batjet to your location immediately—"

"Maybe send it close-ish?" Danny interrupted. "There's a bunch of mountains and trees and ghost-animal-homunculus—homunculi? You get it—"

"I really don't," Dick muttered to himself.

"Anyway, gotta go, this car is kind of a two-hands driving kind of deal, and my sister says distracted driving is a killer. But don't worry! I've never hit anything or been hit by anything the three months I’ve been driving legally, and I only failed it the first three times. How do I hang up…this button? Nope. This one—oh, found the turbo jets, maybe this one—"

The last thing Dick saw was Bruce's gloved hand reaching forward to press the end call button.

"Alfred—"

"The batjet is already ready for takeoff, Master Dick," said Alfred. "I do suggest you hurry, however, as Master Damian has already buckled himself into the pilot's seat."

Dick sighed. One way or another, he had a feeling this was going to end with, if not another brother, then another something. A good story, at least.

Danny’s Wild Ride

Another week, another prompt.

Batman was out investigating a new weapon energy source while the rest of the Batfam was fighting those smuggling said weapons into Gotham. He took the Batmobile, which hadn’t been moving for the last few hours, and is now racing around the surrounding mountains, like a bat out of hell.

So they call the Batmobile. And instead of Batman, they see an bat-doption bait driving the Batmobile. With explosions going off in the background. And Batman with a bleeding head slumped in the passenger seat.

[forthedancingandthethriving]

(More writing practice,, been down in the dumps lately tbh,, and yeah I'm referencing Duckapus's AU hehe)

Many knew of Overseer, knew that it was always watching, lurking, and documenting. But none knew it. None knew what it looked like, sounded like, or even behaved like. So, it was easy for it to slip out into the world of code and explore. Still, it had to use a fake name when out and about.

"Hey, Waypoint! Click! Welcome back!" the owner of the restaurant/bar they entered, Sparks, waved. He was a Program that was pretty small in stature due to how he was built; he had a cube head that floated over two smaller, thinner cubes that also floated apart, and a small upside triangle finished his body. He had two floating hands as well. His eyes were a bright green, while his body was red.

Blotch liked to call him 'Christmas' sometimes, much to Overseer's chargin and Sparks's amusement.

"Hello to you too, Sparks," Overseer greets him as the it and Blotch came up to the front counter. They both took seats. Blotch's bracelet gently clacked against the surface as they sat, and Overseer quickly glanced at it. That bracelet was the only way Blotch could safely be here, and it would rather not have to do a sudden repair.

"The usual, I'm guessing?" Sparks tilts his head.

"Mhm!" Blotch nods.

As the Progam nodded back and got to work, Overseer looked around the establishment. There are Programs all around, some other stray beings too. Sparks had a well-known place, mostly because he was so accepting of anyone entering.

"Hey, did you hear? There's a new Program down at the Internate Cafe," Sparks informs them as he sets their drinks in front of them.

"Is that the place where the owner doesn't have a license?" Blotch raises a brow.

"Yeah, Hotspot." Sparks nods, passing tray to a Program who walked by. "Don't get me wrong, she's a good Program, but she's so worried about the Moderators coming down on her ass.."

Overseer hums and sips from its drink. Sparks glances at it.

"Say, Waypoint, how goes your job?" Sparks asks.

"Well enough." it closes its eyes, voice calm and even. "Click keeps me company on the more bare days."

"How sweet." Sparks chuckles before passing them their food. "Well, you guys know what to do. Shout if you need me."

As the Program floats off, Blotch lowers their voice. "New Program, huh?"

"We don't need to interfere." Overseer lowers its voice. "We never do. You know how this works."

"Ugh.." Blotch stabs a fork into their food. "I know, but I don't like it."

"'Vector' is not a true Program, don't forget." the watcher remarks, biting into their food. "Fan the flames he may, in his plans, he underestimates just how powerful some of those Admins are."

Blotch nods and resumes eating, a comfortable silence falling between the two as the chatter of other Programs filled the air. Once done, the two paid, said their farewells, and left.

As the duo walk, Blotch speaks up first.

"Why do you keep yourself a secret?" the cat asks, tilting their head.

"So that when I reveal myself, others are either fearful or intimidated." Overseer answers simply.

They snort as it smiles. "Weirdo."

"It always works." It retorts, and Blotch knows its smiling wider underneath the hood.

As the two continue, Blotch watches as their friend begins to use their acid manipulation, simply for show. It reminded Blotch why their were friends with the other.

Sometimes, it was nice to have a friend when you were cursed to never be able to stay in a physical place for long.

[my-thoughts-make-me-a-slut]

A Meeting with the King

Hi! This is the first story I am sharing here. In the past, I've written and shared on Wattpad, but I think I like the format of Tumblr better for my writing style. I am, what I like to call, a shifting writer. Sometimes shorter stories, or one-shots, like this one I will write in one sitting, allowing my mind to shift during the process and imagine the scenes. I've written many parts of a story based on my personal character that I may add in a bit about later, for now, I have changed the names to fit the reader.

Summary: After Loki has taken over as King of Asgard, under the guise of an illusion of Odin, he is busy with security and trading meetings for days. After being fed up with not seeing him for days, you show up for a private meeting with the King, wearing little clothing underneath your cloak.

Warnings: Thigh riding, Dom!Reader, Sub!Loki, face slapping cause Loki is a masochist, a lot of pet names, light bondage, some fluff at the end, consensual sex, and an established relationship.

After Loki's return to the throne, under the guise of Odin, he had assigned specific guards to our house to escort me to and from the palace. Which didn't really bother me, as far as much of Asgard knew, I was an unmarried widow but still welcome on Asgard as a previous partner of Prince Loki's. I knew Loki's plan though, after I caught him he came home and admitted the whole thing.

Today he had been particularly busy. I asked my guard to make sure he had dinner blocked out, I was going to see him for a few hours.

"Can you wait out here?" I said to him, pulling my hooded cloak tighter around my body, as we stood outside the grand hall.

"Of course, my lady," He opened the door for me and I looked up at Loki's illusion of Odin.

"I don't understand the meaning of this meeting on my calendar, I thought local trade was already established with Nifleheim," He said not looking up at me.

The door shut behind me with a soft thud, then it was just me, Loki, and his advisor. I took a few steps forward, the clicking of my heels on the marble floor making his gaze finally meet mine.

"Leave us," He told his advisor, "Come back in a few hours for our next meeting, till then, do not disturb us," His sharp and strict voice, suddenly showed his need that was hidden underneath his facade of Odin.

As his advisor left, I used my own magic to ensure the doors in and out of the chamber were sealed tight, "Very presumptuous, my king," I said with a smirk across my face.

"Darling," He said slowly as the illusion faded and I saw his face soften into a smile, "What's the meaning of this wonderful surprise?"

I moved up towards the steps leading to where he was seated on the throne, pulling my wavy blonde curls out from underneath the cloak, "I thought I would see if you were hungry after the long day you've had," My hands moved to the tie at the front of the cloak, pulling it loose, and pushing it from my shoulders, revealing the deep maroon lace bra and panties that I wore underneath.

His eyes raked across my body and I watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips, "Suddenly, I'm ravenous," He said deeply, his legs spread out across the chair of the throne, and his arms stretched out along the armrests.

"May I, my king?" I looked up at him innocently as I put one foot on the first step.

He nodded and I moved up. He stood to meet me when I reached the top of the steps, his strong hand landing on my waist, "No one saw you like this, right? The assumption that you are Odin's concubine... I would not stand for it."

"No, the guard brought me right here from home and I was covered for the cold walk here," I said plainly looking up at him, "Does it make me look desperate that I wanted to see you so badly I showed up like this, my love?"

"Not at all," He said as he pulled me closer to him, his fingers trailing down my spine, "In fact, I think it makes you very desirable."

I smiled at his intimate touch, "Sit back down, I've been thinking about this for a while.." I said, my hand pushing against his chest gently.

"You don't mean...?" Loki said, taking his seat as I stood before him.

"Oh, sweetheart, I do," I responded sitting across him, and straddling his right leg, "However, I do have a few... requests."

He held his hand out, waving into the air, "State your case, my dear."

I placed my hands on his shoulders, leaning in close to his ear, "You will not touch me until I tell you and you will not use any of your powers or magic on me, unless I give you permission, got it? You've been gone the last three days, you would punish me for much less, so I think you deserve the same," I put my hands on his face, hovering my lips over his.

His eyes widened at the realization of what I was asking him to do, "My sweet girl, I can't promise that, you come into my chamber dressed like this and not expect me to want to touch you," He whispered, his breath tickling my skin.

"And I will let you, just let me have some fun first. We play like this all the time love," I replied, kissing his neck softly, "So, let's agree to play fair, shall we?"

I could tell he didn't like it, but the way he was fighting himself to submit to me turned me on more than anything else. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his mouth slightly open, and his breathing was getting heavier, "Fine."

"That's my good boy," I said before finally kissing him sweetly on the lips.

Loki was a bit surprised by my sudden change in demeanor, and I knew he wasn't expecting me to kiss him so soon. I felt his hands run up my sides, and then he grabbed my hips, pulling me tighter toward his crotch. I decided to let him have a little before I took my lot.

I let out a moan at his desperation, and pulled myself from his lips, "Hands off," I said sternly and watched the confusion grow on his face as he followed my rules.

I smiled down at him, "You're so good for me, Loki," running my hands through his hair and kissing his cheek as I pushed my left knee farther into his crotch.

"You know how I feel about you, my darling," He moaned at the pressure.

"Yes, I do," I said, biting my lip seductively, "But I want to hear it fall from your lips like a prayer."

He groaned as I leaned forward, pressing my breasts against his chest, "I love you, y/n," He said between gasps.

"Mmm, I love you too, and those words sound so good, but.." I said, "First I'm going to take my pleasure from you," then I ground myself against his thigh, pulling him into my chest, and throwing my head back at the sensation of the leather and lace against my sensitive skin.

Loki's hands immediately went to my waist, and he began to push me further onto him, "Please, my love..." He begged, his voice husky with desire.

I couldn't help but laugh, "You've already failed, my sweet boy."

He looked up at me confused, "What do you mean?"

"Bind your hands to the chair, now," I said, putting my hands on his shoulders. He did as I asked, and I kissed him again, letting him feel my tongue against his own.

"Good, now let your Queen enjoy herself, let me use your body to chase my desire," I spoke commandingly.

"Yes, my Queen," he replied, finally picking up on my attitude, while still trying to catch his breath.

Using my hands on his shoulders as leverage I returned to rotating my hips against his thigh. It was such an incredible feeling to have his hands bound, unable to touch me, and yet I had complete control of him. The power I wielded was intoxicating.

I slowly worked my hips, moving them in small circles, grinding against his thigh, and watching as Loki's eyes grew more heated with lust and frustration. I moved my hands down to his thighs, rubbing the inside of his legs, teasing him.

I could see the bulge in his pants growing larger by the second, and I wanted nothing more than to rip them open and sink myself onto his hardened cock, but not yet, the power coursing through my veins driving me higher and higher towards my release.

"Loki," I said my eyes closing, "Don't take your lips off my body." Immediately his mouth latched onto my collarbone, sucking and biting at my heated skin, making me shiver. "Oh god, Loki, that feels so good," I moaned, pushing myself harder against his leg.

His teeth grazed my shoulder blade, causing me to whimper, and I felt a wave of heat rush through my body, "Lose your pants, I want to feel your skin against my clit," I said through my pleasured moans.

I felt his magick beneath me as he obeyed, but didn't stop licking his way down my chest until he reached the hem of my bra. "You might also want to also soundproof the room, my love, I did leave the guard just outside the door," I said my hands around his head, holding him tightly to me.

With the wave of his hand, I felt the familiar tickle of his magic in the air, and I reveled in the way it felt against my skin, "Shit," I let out a breathy moan, as I felt his soft skin against my covered pussy.

I gasped as he pressed his lips against my nipple, and then bit hard through the lace, causing me to cry out. "Oh fuck!" I cried, "Do that again," I said, and he obliged, giving my other breast the same treatment.

I couldn't help but grind my hips against his leg, in desperate chase of my high, "Fuck, Loki, my clothes," I whispered, losing my composure slightly.

He took this as his chance, "Yes, my queen? Is your underwear keeping you from your orgasm? Or do you just revel in the feel of my seidr against your skin?" He said, licking around my nipple, trying to push the lace cup down around my breast.

"Shut your fucking mouth and just do it, Loki," I let out sternly, growing annoyed with his arrogant attitude.

"As you wish, my love," He said, and with another flick of his hands, my bra and panties were gone, "It's better for me this way too," He whispered and bit down on my nipple again.

I moaned loudly, feeling my legs begin to shake, "And who's the brat now?" I said, my attitude back after his remarks.

He didn't respond, his tongue cooling the pressure on my nipple.

My hand in his hair pulled him off of my skin, "I think you're forgetting your place, my sweet," I pressed my other hand against his cheek, then slapped it lightly with my fingers, "I asked you a question, I expect an answer unless you want more harsh punishment."

He nodded quickly and moaned out, "Yes, my Queen, I am sorry, I deserve a punishment," His eyes met mine, and he smiled menacingly as if testing to see if I'd hurt him.

Letting his hair go, I leaned back and cracked my hand across his face, "Oh fuck," Loki said under his breath as his body recoiled, his hips pulled back slightly, and his feet pushed his legs higher into the chair and higher into my cunt, my own hips rolling in response to the pressure.

I felt the heat in my core increase, and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold off much longer, "Loki, do that again!" I cried out, and he obliged, biting down on my breast, and flicking his tongue over my nipple while also pressing his thigh up against my slick cunt, "Faster," I said, "Harder," I demanded, and he obeyed.

The pleasure was building rapidly, my body shaking uncontrollably, my toes curling as the waves of pleasure overtook me, "Don't stop," I begged, and he didn't.

"That's it, my sweet, cum for me," Loki growled, his teeth grazing my neck, "Cum all over my leg, make me yours," He whispered, and I could feel my orgasm rising, "Use my body, my love," He said, his voice husky, his lips brushing against my ear, "I'm yours to use, my Queen," He whispered, and I felt the power surge through me, my body exploding in ecstasy.

My back arched and my nails dug into the leather shoulder pads on his cape. I rode Loki's thigh until the waves worked their way through my body.

Soon I was settled back into my body, Loki's eyes watching my every move, "Darling, please," He was so desperate, his mouth had fallen open, and his breathing shallow.

I laughed softly, "What is it, my love?" I asked, running my hand through his hair, "Is there something else you need?"

"Please," He said, practically whining, and his eyes looked up at me, begging.

"Are you in need of release too, sweet? You look just precious begging me like that, so desperate for me. I'm so lucky, you know? I'm the only person who's ever seen Prince Loki, ruler of Asgard, beg. How special I must be to you, right darling?" I teased, stroking his cheek, and he groaned, his eyes closed tight.

"Yes, my Queen," He said, and I saw him shift his weight slightly, "Please, I need to feel you around me."

I hummed, my composure remaining, "I think we have more than enough time until your next meeting, and you do deserve a reward for helping me cum like such a good boy." I winked.

"Yes-! Yes, please," He corrected himself, quickly and I smiled.

"I've finally done it, you realize that right?" my mouth fell open slightly and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Done what, my love?" He responded trying to capture my lips in his, but I turned slightly.

"I've broken you," My hand slipped between us, pulling his cock from his briefs, and moving across his hips to slide the tip of his cock through my folds, "You can't control yourself anymore, you're mine, Loki," I whispered, and I heard him moan.

I pulled his cock into my hand, stroking him slowly, enjoying the feeling of him along my slick pussy, "Do you like when I take care of you, Loki? Do you like how I use you?" I asked, teasing him, and he groaned, his eyes closing tightly.

"Yesss," He moaned, "I like it, my Queen," His words came out almost like a prayer, and It made me smile.

I slid myself down onto his cock, my inner muscles gripping him tightly, and he let out a low, guttural sound, his hands gripping tightly to the arms of the chair, "I'm so proud of you, listening to my demands, being a good boy and following my directions. For that, I won't make you wait to come," I bottomed out onto him, letting out a moan at the feeling of him deep inside of me, once his eyes were back on mine, begging me silently to move, "But, that doesn't mean you don't tell me when you're close, right?"

"Of course, darling," He responded quickly, his hips attempting to buck into me for any sort of movement, "Please, just.."

Then I kissed him deeply and started to ride him slowly, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He groaned loudly, his head falling forward, and his hips thrusting up to meet my downward motion. I loved the feel of him inside me, his size filling me completely, and I could feel my own wetness dripping down onto his lap.

I moved faster, my pace increasing with each stroke, my breasts bouncing lightly as I rode him hard, our thighs slapping together, "Oh god, oh god, fuck," Loki gasped, his hands clenching into fists, and I could hear his breath coming in short gasps, "Please, I'm almost there."

Then I slowed a bit, hitting him deeper inside of me, and he let out a high-pitched groan almost complaining, but I knew he wasn't going to complain, not after everything I'd made him do.

"Please, my love, I'm going to cum, please, don't slow down," He begged, his voice hoarse.

"You're not the only one who gets to cum, baby, don't be greedy now, you'll get yours soon enough," I panted, and I felt my own orgasm building, "Just hold on a little longer for me, okay?" I asked, and he nodded, his face flushed and sweaty, his eyes half-lidded.

I leaned forward against his chest, and wrapped my arms around his neck, "Good boy, keep holding on," I whispered, and he did, his hips pushing into me, his body tensing, and as he bit into my skin, "Touch me now, Loki."

As if those were the magic words he needed his hands automatically gripped my body, his arms around my waist, pulling me along onto his cock.

"Fuck!" He cried out, and I could feel him pulsating inside of me, and I was just about there, I just needed a little more. Grabbing his right wrist I guided it to my clit and Loki automatically pressed his fingers against it in soft circles, knowing exactly how to push me there.

"Yes! Come with me now, Loki! Cum with me!" I screamed, and I felt him tense beneath me, and then I felt the first wave of pleasure wash over me, and I moaned loudly as Loki's hips began to falter in their thrusts, and I felt him release inside of me, his hot seed spilling into my pussy, and I couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy, my own orgasm riding through my body, and I felt him shudder underneath of me.

We slowed together until we were practically clinging to each other's bodies, panting heavily, and I could feel his heart beating wildly under my ear. He kissed my shoulder softly, and I sighed contentedly, "I love you so much, Loki." I said quietly, and he chuckled. "I know, my Queen, and I love you too." He replied.

I leaned my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat for a long moment until I realized we were still in the throne room, "I better go, you still have one more meeting," I said moving to sit up, but Loki held me tight.

"Stay here with me a little while longer, we have time, darling," He whispered, and I looked up at him smiling and kissing him softly.

I stroked his hair, and praised him softly, the way he usually would with me after we played like this together, and then after a bit, he spoke.

"That was amazing. I've never been so turned on by anything before in my life." He said, and I smiled.

"Good, I did like playing with you, my love," I said, and he blushed slightly, "But I think we should probably get dressed now, or else your advisor will start knocking and might think something is up."

I stood off from him, and he used his magick to dress us both again, making sure to double knot the ties on my cloak before he walked me to the door, "How do you always know when I need you? I've been thinking about you all day," He said as we crossed the spacious room.

"And if I told you that was my magick, what would you say to that?" I responded, stopping in front of the door to look up at him.

He laughed, and pulled me into a hug, "I'd tell you that I love you, and I can't wait to see you later."

I returned the embrace and gave him a kiss on the cheek before I opened the door, "I'll see you at home, my king." I said with a wink and a smirk.

He smiled, "Of course, my queen."

[in-for-a-pennyx]

Kinktober 2022: October 15th

Day 15: Facesitting // Sex Toys

Ezra (Prospect) x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: D/s established relationship, Soft Dom! Ezra, sub!reader, use of pet names (reader is called Kitten), Ezra has one arm, mention of body hair, sex toys, pet play, use of anal plugs, face sitting, oral sex (f receiving), cum eating, masturbation; reader is described as having brown skin and black hair long enough to stroke.

A/n: So I'm an Indian woman (the country, not the indigenous people of the Americas) and wanted to give reader my own features. I have brown skin and black hair, and wanted to see that reflected in my fics. But you don't have to be Indian to connect with those features. I apologise if it causes any discomfort, I absolutely don't mean it to. I just want to see myself in some of what I write. All of my other fics are blank slate (as far as I can tell) and I plan to wrote a mix of blank slate and Indian/brown skin readers. Thanks for reading and feedback welcome as always!

|| Prompts by @absurdthirst ||

This is only for anyone 18+ years of age, minors - please do not interact. Only proceed if you're over 18 and have read and understood the warnings and rating.

Ezra has come across many cats in his life. Puss in Boots was special in his childhood, the Cheshire Cat opened his heart to the love of books and words, his mind to the limitless imagination the universe contains, and his lips to the power of a well-placed smile. He’s seen old, withered photographs of an elegant cat-like statue protecting the tombs of Kings, from a civilization that also considered cats as Gods. When he met Cee, she reminded him of a feisty alley cat. But his favourite is you – his little Kitten.

Ezra comes in to find you curled up with a book on the plush pink velvet loveseat in the corner of the front partition of your pod. The sun is streaming in and you’re enjoying the warmth on your skin, the sunshine making your brown skin look a rich bronze, soothing the chill that has made a home in your bones. After spending many a cycle trying to find a hospitable planet after Ezra’s time on the Green, you settled on one that had a safe atmosphere and many seasons.

He smiles and sits down on the other chair, and you notice he’s holding a small box held close with a tied black ribbon. Marking your place in the book, you eye the box with curiosity.

"Come here, Kitten, I have a present for you” he hums, patting his thigh. Oh, he’s got mischief planned.

You slide your legs out from under you, stretching a little, and go to Ezra, kneeling between his legs and resting your head on his warm thigh. He strokes your hair gently, tangling his fingers in your raven locks and admiring how the sunshine bounces off them, making them look like the feathers of the bird he so loves, and then places the box on his lap.

"Untie the ribbon, dear Kitten. Reveal your gift," he says with a clever smile.

You look up at Ezra to ask permission and when he nods, you untie the ribbon and open the box. Your eyes go wide with surprise and heat rises to your cheeks. Nestled among the pink tissue paper is a fluffy, black tail with wisps of grey, matching your hair, attached to a small metal butt plug.

Excitement skitters through your chest, and your body vibrates with the effort to suppress nervous giggles. Ezra chuckles, placing a finger under your chin and lifting your face to look at him. “I thought it was time my perfect Kitten was bestowed with a special keepsake. Is it to your liking?”

“Yes, thank you, Master. I adore it! You always know what I like” you rave truthfully. Ezra always knows. Sometimes he knows you better than yourself and that realisation makes your heart swell with love for him. He got you a tail that matches your hair and that little detail is all you need to know about Ezra.

“That’s music to my ears, Kitten. Now stand, dearheart. Go to the back partition, undress and kneel on the bed on your hands and knees. I should be with you shortly” he instructs and you know it's playtime, your body and mind buzzing with the thrill of what’s to come.

You do as he says and assume your position on the bed. Your body is rife with anticipation and after what feels like hours, you recognise Ezra’s footsteps thudding into the bedroom.

“Many a man has taken pilgrimage over sands and oceans, under starry nights and hot suns, gone a hundred years without movement to attain a holy image. But Kitten, none of them will ever cast a shadow on the exquisite temple of your body laid open in front of me”.

You feel a genuine happiness at that, his approval always manages to soothe you. In Ezra’s hands, you find absolution.

Ezra walks to the edge of the bed and stands behind you, the rough fabric of his trousers covering his thighs a sharp contrast to the soft, sensitive skin of the back of your thighs. He starts to rub your shoulders and back, his lone hand sliding around your waist to cup your breasts softly. It makes you whimper, his touch setting you on fire.

“My bonny Kitten, how I missed you these last few cycles. The only friend I had was misery. The thought of you on your knees was the sole thing that kept this old man from losing his sanity”

You hate the thought that Ezra was unhappy in any way and press back into him, trying your best to convey that you are here and that you are his. He breathes in your scent and kisses the side of your head, nuzzling into your hair. You shudder and push further back into him so that there is no distance between you.

He stands back up and runs a hand down your back to cup your ass. Ezra strokes your round ass and runs a finger down the middle, halting briefly to circle the tight bud of your rear hole but doesn’t stop there. You moan at the feeling and buck your hips when he slips two fingers inside your wet cunt. He strokes you there for a while before moving his now-soaked fingers to your rear hole. He rubs your slick onto your tightly closed hole and asks you to relax, breathe. His touch and the deep cadence of his voice relax you.

“Alright, dearheart, you need to help me here. Put your weight down on your shoulders and raise your delectable behind up for me. I wish I could do it myself but with my lone arm, I need my Kitten to help. Pull your sweet cheeks apart so I can see that shying rosebud”.

You do as he says and soon enough, you feel some cool lubricant being rubbed in and his middle finger gently eases into your ass. “You’re doing so well, Kitten. Always such a brave little Kitten for me” he coos.

He dips his finger inside and briefly strokes you before leaving you empty once again. You feel so exposed with your ass in the air but your trust in Ezra is boundless and you know he will take care of you.

Suddenly you feel something new, something cool and hard pressing against your rear entrance. As Ezra starts to press it in, you realise that it's bigger than his finger and you moan at the feeling. But Ezra is gentle and slowly eases the object into you. It starts to get wider and you start to feel so full. Your breaths are coming in short, urgent huffs and you’re trying to stay relaxed, just as Ezra trained you. Then the object tapers down again and your sphincter closes down on the smaller end, holding the object firmly inside you. You feel something furry brush the back of your thighs and you realise that this must be your new tail.

Ezra steps back and you wiggle your ass to give him a show as much as to get comfortable with the plug inside you. It’s a sensation you’ve felt before but every time it feels new, the fullness is always overwhelming.

“You’re my favourite delight, Kitten, and this tail is the perfect cherry on top. Come on, give us a twirl” Ezra indulges himself.

A lewd thrill of submission floods your veins, making the soft hairs on your body stand on edge. You get off the bed in your best feline impression, wiggling your hips and stretching your limbs. Ezra goes to lie down on the bed and you twirl around sensuously, showing off your new toy for him.

“A rapturous sight you make, dearheart. A balm to my jagged soul”. You can tell he’s satisfied by his lopsided grin.

He taps his chest and looks at you invitingly “alright Kitten, seems like an opportune moment for me to partake. Come take a seat on your Ezra’s face. I want to drink straight from the source.”

You act coy, walking slowly towards him and climbing on top of him to straddle his chest, but in reality, you could be screaming with excitement. This is such an exceptional treat. With just his one arm now, this position helps him be in control and he doesn’t have to worry about collapsing on top of you too heavily. It also gives you the perfect view of his face: his poetic, wandering brown eyes, the messy mop of hair with the shocking blond streak, the nose you have memorised on your fingertips, and the lone scar that makes Ezra uniquely him.

Once you’re close enough, with a knee on either side of Ezra’s ribs, he grabs the backs of your thigh and gently prompts you forward with a light press of his fingers into your skin. He shifts his hold to your hip, guiding your glistening, wet pussy to his luscious mouth. As you feel Ezra’s tongue part your swollen folds and his fingers palm your ass, you moan so loud that you’re sure people three pods down could hear, but neither you nor Ezra care. He loves the delicious sounds his Kitten makes and he wouldn’t smother your voice for anyone.

By now, he is well aware of how you like being teased, and he knows when to relent; it makes your chest flutter, knowing that he’s not only committed your preferences to memory but is always set on indulging them as well.

You feel Ezra’s tongue slither and slide along your swollen slit, and as his fingers peel your blooming lips back to expose your wetness, you shake with the surge of pleasure, throwing your head back with abandon.

Your tail lands on Ezra’s chest, the ‘fur’ so soft on his golden chest and he loves the ticklish sensation of it.

“There’s an inferno inside your delectable cunt, Kitten” you can hear his muffled voice from below you and you can’t help but grind against his mouth harder, chasing his tongue to where you need it most. But Ezra’s in control and doesn’t relent, dipping his tongue inside you and making you mewl pathetically. His nose bumps against your clit and it’s electric, but not enough.

“Please Master, please put your mouth on me” you beg shamelessly, emboldened by sheer need.

“You already have my mouth, Kitten. Don’t be greedy now. Impatience doesn’t a good Kitten make”. You whimper but don’t push your luck. Ezra’s been known to stop if you get too snotty and you couldn’t think of anything worse at the moment.

With each dive of his sinful tongue inside your cunt, you can feel the familiar coil of pleasure tighten in your abdomen. At the same time, Ezra is playing with your tail, pushing and pulling it lightly and the dual sensations and stretch are driving you crazy. You’re close, so close but you need his lips around your clit. You’re panting, practically crying with your unfinished pleasures when Ezra takes pity on you and finally brings his mouth to your throbbing clit, suckling it gently.

That’s all it takes to break you and you cum with a shout of Ezra’s name on your tongue. The waves of pleasure wash over you and clamp your thighs around Ezra’s head but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going and brings you to the brink again. You vaguely register a slick sliding behind you, taking a second to realise that Ezra had wrapped his fingers around his hard length and is stroking himself.

He times his strokes to you riding his mouth. A few more strokes and he cums hard, spilling on his tummy. He moans into your fluttering cunt and that’s enough to drive you over the edge again. He keeps licking you through it and soon you’re too sensitive.

“Ezra please…” you purr and he understands, permitting you to move. You carefully rise and swing your leg over him, and kneel next to him on the bed. His lips and chin are shining with your wetness and you duck your head, feeling debauched.

Ezra lets out a satisfied hum and looks at you dreamily “You always explode on my tongue like stardust, Kitten. I never tire of it.”

“Will you lick me clean, Kitten?”

You’re delighted to be given the chance to taste his spend and clean him. You hinge down at your waist towards his tummy, your ass and tail up in the air, and start gently lapping at his spend, the slight tang of him making your pussy throb again.

Ezra delights in you and that makes you peaceful in yourself. You’re always safe in his hands and he reveres the trust you place in him. Not everyone will understand your relationship but you both do and that’s what matters.

When you finish, Ezra grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. “Come up here, Kitten. Let us travel to the valley of dreams for a while.” You cosy up to his side, satisfied and satiated.

“You are mine, little Kitten, as I am yours. And no more shall we part”.

END

(Yes, the last line is a Nick Cave song 😬)

[ttttaehyungie]

an exercise in restraint | jjk x reader

an exercise in restraint | jeon jungkook x reader

genre | established relationship, smut, pwp

summary | Wandering hands need to be trained with self-restraint.

rating | 18+

word count | 3.7k words

warnings | subby jk, vvv slight exhibitionism (inappropriate touching in public places), no touching rule, nipple play, oral fixation, cum eating, jealousy/insecurity but they talk it out bcos we love healthy communication ✌🏻

a/n | that blonde jk selfie made me do it

When she walks into the apartment ahead of him wordlessly, he gulps. He’s in trouble.

It's not anger that emanates off her. It's not the brooding kind of silence that’s filling the atmosphere as she ignores him.

No. The aura that radiates off her is unmistakable.

It's domineering.

He calls her name, voice edged with the slightest hint of worry, but she pays him no response. In the emptiness of the silence, he has no clue what thoughts exactly her head is filled with. Trembling, he tries again, "I'm sorry."

She halts. Purposeful steps come to a stop. They're standing before his bedroom door and despite the obvious familiarity of the physical space before him, he shivers at the uncertainty that lies ahead. "Are you now?" she asks, her voice clear and unwavering. Her words grip him.

Without waiting for his response, she pushes the door open and enters the room like she owns it. She may as well have. It certainly feels like she owns him.

Standing in the center of the room, she finally turns to face him. Her expression is neutral, but her gaze is firm and pins him in place where he hesitates in the doorway.

"Come here." At her word, he obeys. He stands before her, toes scrunching against the stiffness of the hardwood floor beneath him. Despite his height advantage over her, he feels infinitely smaller, his head bowed in admonishment. "What are you sorry for?"

He chews on his lip. Shame fills him.

With a hand on his chin, she directs his gaze away from the floor to meet hers. She prompts him with a simple but expectant, "Hm?"

"I'm sor- I'm sorry for, for getting jealous," he mumbles, averting his eyes.

"Look at me." His eyes dart back to hers. But this time he finds gentleness in her gaze. "There's nothing wrong with being jealous, Jungkook. Although I wish you would have talked to me about it instead of bottling it up to yourself. It's been, what, two weeks now since I made that comment about him."

Just as the sensation of release that accompanies relief blooms in his chest as he thinks he's off the hook, her gaze hardens again as she continues, “But what is not okay is your inappropriate touches in the middle of our dinner with Namjoon."

Something within Jungkook tightens at the sound of his name. Whatever shame that had previously filled him was now singed into nothing by the flare of jealousy that bursts within him.

Tonight was not the first time the three of them had dined together. As her best friend of over a decade now, Namjoon came over to hang out together frequently enough that Jungkook was beginning to consider him his own friend. Namjoon was cool – dorky enough to be relatable, yet composed with a certain air of sophistication brought by his intellect such that he easily commanded Jungkook's respect. And Jungkook had walked into his current relationship with his eyes wide open. He'd known about the close friendship his girlfriend shared with Namjoon and didn't want to be the jealous boyfriend who broke precious friendships apart. And he had been doing well, had been genuinely chill about it.

Well, he had been, up until that little comment from two weeks ago.

It was a lighthearted remark, just an offhand comment. Mindlessly scrolling through her Facebook feed on that lazy Saturday afternoon, she came across an engagement announcement by two of her friends. The comments were filled with people gushing over how perfect their story was, being childhood best friends and all. She laughed and rolled her eyes at that. "It's all so romanticized. But what's so romantic about knowing someone before their puberty glow up? Hell, maybe we should ask Namjoon what he saw in pubescent me!"

His ears perked up at that. "What?"

"Oh, yeah, Namjoon confessed to me once when we were, like, fourteen? Can you believe it? The upper limit to my fashion sense back then was my scruffy jeans and bright magenta jacket!”

Gentle fingers pry his own out of the tight fist they had clenched themselves into, simultaneously prying him out of his reverie and back to the present. Sliding her hand into his, she frowns at him. “If you were jealous, you should have just talked to me about it.”

“But it’s so silly,” he said, immediately prompting her to shake her head.

“Your emotions are not silly, Kook,” she said. “It’s my fault, my blind spot that I didn’t expect it, and I’m sorry if I made you feel insecure about our relationship.”

Lowering his head to rest on her shoulder, he pouts as he hides his face in the warm comfort found in the crook of her neck.

“Whatever happened back then is in the past. I rejected him because I felt we were better as just friends, and it took him some time, but ultimately he agreed. And I swear, that was the one and only time. We’ve been nothing more than best friends after that,” she continues, and the words roll over him in waves of reassurance that synchronize with the slow strokes of her thumb over his knuckles. “I’m yours, and yours only, Kook.”

His free hand slides up to grip at her waist possessively. “Mine?” he asks.

“Yours,” she promises. The tight feeling in his chest begins to loosen itself. Things will be okay. They’ll work through this.

Smiling at him, she speaks again, her voice laced with mirth this time, “But what shall we do about your misbehavior tonight?”

He hadn’t been able to help himself. The worries that he left unaddressed in his refusal to talk about his jealous emotions resulted in an unpleasant dread making its home in the pit of his stomach, displacing his appetite as he sat in the cushioned bench of the restaurant. As he watched his girlfriend respond to Namjoon’s jokes with the carefree laughter that Jungkook so adored, he felt the jealousy rise in his chest, fill him, and he left his dinner half-eaten and abandoned to go cold on its plate.

The gnawing thought that she was slipping out of his hands spurred his next actions. As if needing to hold her back to him, he placed a hand on her thigh. And when she shivered at his touch – throwing him a quick questioning glance, but nothing more – her reaction further fueled him. The inane need to stake a claim on her, to remind her of whose she was, began to overtake him, and his hand slowly but steadily slid higher and higher. Watching his tattooed knuckles slither up the smooth skin of her exposed thigh was a welcome distraction from the ongoing conversation. With their legs tucked under the table, Namjoon was none the wiser from where he sat across from them. And with their table in the corner of the dimly lit room, they were adequately concealed from the danger of any wandering eyes of the other diners. Still, it all felt so illicit, but also oh so thrilling. Curiosity at just how far he could take things clouded his senses and he ignored the way she shoved his hand down when they brushed the edge of her short skirt. His hand crept up again, and this time it got to the hem of her panties and traced along the elastic. Just as he angled his hand to stroke a lone finger up where he knows her slit is, her thighs clamped shut. Under the table, she swiftly pulled his hand away before she gave his thigh a meaningful pinch.

“Sorry Namjoon,” she said, with a saccharine sweet smile on her face. But Jungkook knew better. “I think Jungkook’s had a long day. Do you mind if we head off first?”

Back in the bedroom, she steps away from him, and he whines at the loss of contact. But when she tuts at him, he falls quiet.

“My naughty boy,” she scolds, voice light but firm. “Being so dirty and trying to touch me in public. I think I need to teach you a lesson in restraint today.” Her hand runs gently down his chest and he suppresses a shiver. “Will you be good for me, Koo?” At the sound of his pet name, the name she only ever evokes in times like this, he immediately nods. She smirks. “Sit on the bed.”

He’s quick to obey, sitting attentively at the edge of his bed. She takes his hands in hers, looking them over, admiring them. “Such beautiful hands. But so, so naughty today, wandering to places they shouldn’t have been.” She places them down on the bed just by his sides. “No moving.”

Then, she backs up to stand front and center in his vision. Knowing that his eyes will be glued to her, she runs her hands over herself, tracing the curves that she knows he’s dying to touch. Arching into her own touch, she releases the buttons of her blouse one by one in a teasing fashion, letting the fabric fall open to reveal the satiny sheen of her bra. Unzipping her skirt, she shimmies her way out of the garment. A tinge of self-consciousness creeps in at the thought of her plain undergarments and how they must pale in comparison to some of the raunchier lingerie sets she’s worn in the past. But Jungkook looks at her like she’s a pin-up model all the same, slack-jawed and pupils dilated. And it gives her the boost she needs to carry on.

Shrugging her blouse off, she saunters over to him and climbs to hover just above his lap. His hands twitch but stay where they are. Her fingers comb their way through the smooth locks of his blond hair, and she watches as his eyes flutter shut under the attention. He’s so, so pretty for her as he succumbs to her touch. Tilting his head back gently to have him look back up at her, she asks, “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” His voice is petulant. “I want to touch you so bad.”

“Do you deserve to touch me after your behavior tonight?”

He shakes his head wordlessly, taking his punishment. Smirking at his obedience, she hoists herself off to sit on the bed beside him, legs crossed and leaned back, the picture of self-assured confidence.

“Strip for me,” she directs simply.

It takes him a second to process her words. But when he does, he snaps to it, whipping his shirt and slacks off. But when he makes to pull his boxer briefs down, she stops him.

“Nuh uh. Those stay on.”

She scoots back and spreads her legs, patting the space between them to get him to come sit. As he does, he can feel the smooth slide of the satin material of her bra against his back, and he longs for the warm plush feel of her breasts against him.

But before he can get too lost in his own want, she grabs his hands to place them on his thighs. “Show me you can restrain yourself,” she says.

Meanwhile, her own hands go skimming up said thighs. Up, up, up, they slide, past the tingly ticklish sides and raking with a featherlight touch between his pecs that have his nipples perking up and begging for attention, his dick twitching in his briefs.

She strokes his collarbone and leans in to whisper in his ear, warm breath puffing against the sensitive skin and her smooth voice delivered directly into his ear makes it feel like she’s everywhere, like she’s overtaken all of his senses. “Will you be good for me?”

He keens out a yes. It’s all he can ever manage when it’s her.

Then, quick as a bolt, her hand drops down to stroke his cock through the cotton material of his briefs. With a pressure that is barely there, merely ghosting over the outline of his erection, her hand pauses where his precum has created a damp spot in the heather grey material. She swipes it ever so lightly with her pointer finger and giggles. “Is this for me?”

He nods, eyes squeezing shut as she rubs her finger over the tip of his dick. He groans out his answer, “Only for you.”

Her hand resumes the torturously fleeting touches over his erection, toying with him. Her legs are hooked over his, anchoring her to him as her hands run free. The smooth skin of her legs is right there. Right there, mere inches from his hands. But he’s not allowed to touch. Jungkook thinks he just might lose his mind. But then her finger comes tapping at his lips, and presses two into the warm, wet cavern.

She knows all about his oral fixation by now. It’s hard not to notice it when, despite every post-orgasm haze, he’s latching onto something of hers, be it a tit or her fingers or sometimes an intense but slow and languorous make-out session. Well-acquainted with his preferences by now, she gives him exactly what he needs. Jungkook sucks on the two fingers she’s granted him like it’s a lifeline, and it eases the ache for him somewhat.

But very soon it becomes insufficient, and his hips begin to rut upwards, seeking more than just the gentle sweeps over his cock that she’s graced him with so far.

“Please,” he begs. “No more teasing.”

But instead of giving him more, she covers his mouth with her hand, continuing relentlessly with the excruciating lightness of her touches. The resultant whine that comes out of him is muffled underneath her palm.

“You’ll take only what I give you,” she says. But as she finishes her sentence, she adds pressure to her strokes, relieving his want just enough to entice him yet keep him on edge.

He writhes against her, but each time his hips lift for more, she pulls away. He can’t even ask for more with the way her tiny hand silences him, the hot gasps that escape him puffing against her palm.

“You need to practice self-restraint,” she coos. He whimpers, and tries his best to control himself, to be obedient for her.

Trembling in the arms that snake around him, he attempts to get a grip on himself. Taking deep, shuddering breaths for what feels like multiple eternities, he finally calms himself down. Aside from the occasional reflexive twitch, he’s gotten himself under control, abs clenched tightly as he keeps a tight rein on his desire.

“Such a good boy for me,” she murmurs her praise, and she finally releases the palm that was over his mouth, stroking his hair back affectionately to tuck it behind his ear.

Then, her hand descends onto a dusky nipple, tweaking it and running slow circles around it, and his moan is released unrestrained and bouncing off the walls of his bedroom. Her hand slips down, down, down. Delicate fingers caress his balls, and it takes all the self-control that he can possibly summon not to thrust upwards, not to move his hands to grab her tiny ones in his, not to use the physical strength he possesses that he knows will easily domineer over hers to flip her over and pin her down and have his way with her already.

Instead, his hands grip at his knees where they’ve remained all this time. His nails dig into his flesh, creating little indents of crescent moons. Seeing this, she tells him to relax. At her gentle coaxing, he begins to release the tension held within his taut muscles one by one. He lets go, eyes falling shut as he lets himself flow with the languid strokes she unhurriedly palms through his briefs.

At his display of obedience, there’s nothing but contentment in her voice as she murmurs, “So good for me.”

Hearing this, he decides to try his luck. “Please,” he begs, his voice tiny. “I’ll be good from now on. Can I please, please touch you now?”

She hums in consideration, but it’s all feigned. Completely pliant in her arms, she knows he’s restraining himself as best as he can despite the way his body trembles with pure want. And she’s ready to give him what he wants.

“Ok.”

His eyes fly open at the simple permission granted. Afraid he might have just imagined it, he asks again, “I can touch you now?”

Pulling away from him, she slides herself backwards to lie fully on his bed and he turns to watch. She unclasps her bra, but leaves it on, giving him the honor of taking it off. Hands beckoning, and voice commanding, she directs him, “Touch me, Koo.”

He crawls forward meekly and gingerly lifts her bra from her, soaking in the sight of her breasts. Slowly, reverently, he traces a finger on her areola. She giggles. “Such a patient boy for me now.” He nods, delighted that she is delighted, and rolls her nipple between his fingers with more boldness.

“Do you want them in your mouth, Koo?” she asks, but it’s less a question than it is permission. With that, he bends to take the other bud into his mouth, and sighs at the feel of it against his tongue, at the satisfaction of having something to suckle on.

With his mouth busy, his hands go running all over her, across the planes of her ribs and caressing her sides and her soft tummy and briefly dipping into her bellybutton. She lifts a leg and grabs his hand to place it on the back of her thigh. Getting the hint, he releases her from his mouth, the bud slightly red and swollen from the attention, and lifts her other leg to pin her thighs to her sides. The damp spot he spies in her underwear causes pride to swell up in him, knowing that he did that to her.

“Here, Koo,” she says, tipping her chin up and pulling him in by the shoulders for a kiss.

Their tongues intertwine and he moans. He’ll never get enough of her. The way their cores fit against each other, melding together despite the two flimsy cloth barriers that separate them, is like they’re just made for one another. The thought of their twin damp arousals rubbing up against one another as their warm, wet tongues slither against each other in this erotic tango has his head swimming in the foggy lust.

She grinds upwards with her hips, legs hooked around his waist, dragging the softness against his dick that’s been painfully hard for god knows how long now, and the thin string of his restraint very nearly snaps. But he’ll be patient. He knows that’s what she wants. And what she wants, he gives.

“I want you, Koo,” she moans out. “In me, please.”

This, he’s happy to obey.

At her word, he pulls the last article of clothing that remains on her down, the last thing that separates her from his eyes. Her folds glisten under the yellow glow of his ceiling light, and it’s a sight to behold. He has to force himself to stay focused, to keep himself from the temptation of bending down to lick a stripe up her slit, to get a taste of her arousal. No, she wants him in her. And that’s what he will give her.

He pulls his briefs down, no time to get them fully off, and they wrap around his muscular thighs as he kneels and lines himself up to her entrance. And then, slowly, steadily, he slides himself in.

As much as he wants to focus on her pleasure and her pleasure alone, the warm and viscous arousal coating him and the velveteen, pillowy feel of her is a sensation like no other and he can’t help but get lost in it for a moment. The feeling is absolutely transcendental, and he pauses, relishes in it, thanking the heavens she’s on birth control.

“Feel good?” she asks, noticing his pause. He nods meekly. “That’s good. I like it when you feel good too.” She smiles and clenches around him lightly, pulling a moan from him. “I like it when you’re a good boy for me so we can both feel good. Will you make me feel good now, Koo?”

Her words set him off and he begins rolling his hips, slow but deep at first, then speeding up as she asks him to. The way her nails rake through his scalp and then down his back drives him forward, the clapping of their flesh together rhythmical with each one of his powerful thrusts.

Soon, the tell-tale signs of her oncoming orgasm begin to show. He feels her clench around him and watches as her back bows as she arches upwards, taking in the wondrous sight of her falling apart before his eyes as she finally erupts around him and coats him in her essence. His heart fills to brim and spills over. Watching her consumed in pleasure and knowing that he was the one to give that to her, it only takes Jungkook a couple more strokes to completion, and he collapses into her chest as he whimpers into the safety of her neck, creaming her walls white.

His lips latch onto the soft skin of her shoulder and he can’t do anything else but suck gentle hickeys into the expanse of her body. He would be content to stay in her forever, feel his dick soften in her plush folds. But she squirms underneath him and he pauses to accommodate her. Gently, she slides him out, but keeps him in her arms and his head nestled in her soft chest. He watches as she slips a hand down, dips two fingers into her pussy, and scoops out their mixed arousal. And as his doe-eyed gaze remains fixated on her glistening fingers, his mouth opening instinctively as they come closer, she slips her fingers and their cum into his mouth.

Savoring the taste of their coupling, he dozes off, completely spent, her fingers still in his mouth as he suckles on them tenderly. And as she watches, the thought of clean-up occurs to her, and she knows that the wiser thing would be to temporarily relinquish her comfort and get it done. But wrapped in his embrace and watching his little blond head rise and fall in tandem with her breaths, she really can’t help herself. Instead, she decides, that’s enough restraint for now.

[rinchfest]

Announcing Rinch Fest 2021, a ship week for Harold Finch/John Reese from Person of Interest! This is a low-pressure event meant to encourage the creation of more fanworks for Finch/Reese. Fic, art, gifs, vids, podfic, you name it—all are welcome, as long as they’re Rinch-centric.

Posting for the first Rinch Fest will run from September 24 through September 30, 2021.

PROMPTS:

Day One Fix-it • Tropes • Setting/Genre-Change AU • Hugs

Day Two Angst • Wedding/Engagement • Retirement • Clothes

Day Three Food/Drinks/Cooking • Pets/Animals • Fluff • Established Relationship

Day Four Domesticity • Dark • The Machine • Getting Together

Day Five Reese Whump • Pining • Babies/Kids • Crossover

Day Six Finch Whump • NSFW/Kink • Canon-divergence AU • Casefic

Day Seven Free-for-All/Catch-Up Day

Keep reading for the FAQ!

Who's running this? @argylepiratewd

Why not call it Rinch Week? It started out as Rinch Fest on The Rinch Loft on Discord, and that's what stuck.

Plus, Rinch Fest and Reese & Finch share the same initials.

What’s allowed? Complete fanworks focusing on Harold Finch and John Reese in a romantic relationship with each other. Fic, art, vids, remixes, sequels, you name it! No length requirements, no style requirements, all ratings allowed—do what you want!

Anything not allowed? Works where Finch/Reese is not the primary romantic relationship (additional ships are fine), works that are incomplete at the time of posting, and remixes or other transformative works for other people's fanworks that are done without the original creator’s permission. Anything else is fair game, as long as it’s labeled.

Also, don’t be a jerk.

What about [insert controversial topic here]? Can I make something with x?/OMG someone made something with x! Anything else is fair game, as long as it’s labeled. This includes works featuring tropes and kinks that you may not like or approve of. As long as it’s warned for, it’s fine and allowed.

Please warn for the usual AO3 warnings (Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Rape/Non-Con, and Underage) and any subjects others may find deeply unpleasant, and clearly label any NSFW works.

What about poly? Gen? Poly and gen are wonderful, but this is a (shippy) Finch/Reese event. Sorry.

What do I do with x prompt?/Can I do [insert concept here]? Anything goes! Seriously, however you want to interpret a prompt is fine. Retirement could be happy retirement for the guys, it could be John still grappling with the CIA’s version, or something else. Pets/Animals could be Bear or a new pet, John petting Harold's hair or belly or booty, someone turning into an animal, or something else. Kids could be human children (born or unborn) or goat children. Dark could be dark concepts or literal darkness or something else. Your choice!

Do I have to make something for every prompt? No! You can if you want, but it’s not required. Feel free to skip days, combine prompts, create multiple fills for each day, anything! This is as flexible as it gets.

If it fits multiple prompts, when do I post it? Whatever day works best for you!

What if I want to do something NSFW for another prompt? Do I have to wait until Day Six to post it? Nope!

What about a multi-chapter/piece thing where each chapter fulfills one day’s prompt? When do I post that? Post an update each relevant day until you’re done! (Just make sure you can finish it by the end of the event.)

What if it doesn't fit a prompt? That's what Day 7 is for! :D

What if I need to post my fill(s) on a different day? Life happens. The AO3 collection is set to Unrevealed, so I can reveal early submissions on the right day, but if that doesn't work for you, I'm sure we can work something out.

Can I work on a previously-posted WIP? As long as it’s finished when you make your post for the event, sure! If you're just updating a WIP without finishing it, no.

Can I start working now? Absolutely! That's why I'm announcing it now—so there's plenty of time for people to make things.

Can I talk about/share previews of what I’m working on? Sure!

Wait, there's a Rinch Discord server? Do I have to join to do this? Of course not. We’d love to have you at The Rinch Loft, and it’s a fun place to hang out, but Rinch Fest is for anyone into Rinch.

If I want the Discord link… Send in an Ask, message @argylepiratewd, or ask around. It’s open to anyone who likes Rinch or Person of Interest. I’m happy to give it out to anyone who wants it.

Where do I post? On Tumblr, post to your blog and use the #rinchfest21 or #rinchweek21 tags. You are They are being watched. 👁 And maybe add @rinchfest in your post to be sure. Tumblr is as hungry as Bear and Shaw.

Submissions are also open.

On AO3, there’s a Rinch Fest 2021 collection here.

Do I have to have a Tumblr? AO3? As long as you’re on some kind of platform and can get a link to the work to me somehow so I can share it with the world, you’re welcome to play.

On October 1st, I'll make a round-up post full of links to all the shiny things people made. If I know you made it, it'll go in!

What time zone? The daily prompt posts will be going up at 12 am Central Time, but as long as it's the relevant day for your fill somewhere in the world, go ahead and throw it in!

(And if you want to sneak in some Day 7 things a little after, as long as they get posted before the Master Post goes up... 😉)

How do I post? There's an early posting guide here! Those instructions should be mostly applicable if you posting on the day that goes with your chosen prompt as well—just adjust them as needed.

Sounds fun! How do I sign up? No signups! Just post your stuff somewhere on the right day(s), and you’re in!

[lit-in-thy-heart]

Merwainecelot + leaping hug? It sounds a little dangerous now I'm typing it but it is them 🤣

@donttouchtheneednoggle i received this and spared a second to scream before the chaos entered my mind, it is absolutely a little dangerous but that makes it completely plausible, thank you for the prompt! 💖

this is set between s3 and s4 and there is a slight magic reveal?

do i need to say it's under the cut by now? probably not but it is under the cut because i had far too much fun with this...hope you enjoy it! (i promise you there is fluff)

i am working my way through the others but if anyone wants to send a prompt across, i will welcome it!

Squinting against the menacing sun, Lancelot finally dropped Gwaine’s fingers with a deep breath. Of course it made sense to split up and cover more ground, but he couldn’t quite shake the fear of losing a second partner within a period of several days. He knew it was just his fatigue thinking and he forced himself to glance over at Gwaine once more before diverging in his path.

Merlin had been missing for two days and neither Lancelot nor Gwaine had caught a second of sleep since. The other knights had attempted to coax them into a slumber but, each time their eyes closed, the aching absence of Merlin’s body burst all thoughts of peace. They’d both spent hours going over Merlin’s movements, trying to pinpoint precisely where they had lost sight of him. Lancelot ran his fingers through his hair. If they didn’t find Merlin, then it wouldn’t just be him, Gwaine, and their inner circle that would be crushed. It could potentially be the entirety of Camelot. Arthur had inherited a weak strain of Uther’s paranoid streak and, if Merlin didn’t appear – or, worse, he appeared but not in a live state, which didn’t bear thinking about – then the peace treaty certainly would not appear.

Lancelot dropped to the ground, fingers fumbling along a nearby branch. Catching one fingertip on a thorn, he cursed quietly and inspected the damage, mind distracted for one moment of relief. Watching as blood bubbled to the surface, Lancelot pressed his mouth to the small puncture mark. There had been one afternoon, several months ago, where he had done nothing except lounge outside with Gwaine and Merlin, sketching as Gwaine had struggled to sew a new neckerchief for Merlin (Merlin had given them both one as a favour in a melee and Gwaine’s had been hacked to pieces, along with part of his arm) and Merlin had been depriving a branch of hawthorn of its thorns. Lancelot lingered by the tree for several moments more before straightening and running his hands through his hair again.

The forest had been searched countless times by the knights in daylight hours, and by him and Gwaine in the snatches of starlight when Merlin should have been tucked between them, but that didn’t mean that they were going to stop haunting it. If anything, it made Lancelot more determined that Merlin had hidden himself away in some concealed cove until it was safe to venture out. Because as powerful as Merlin was, there was no way that he could simply disappear off the face of the earth. Not without leaving some clue for Lancelot and Gwaine.

At a rustling, Lancelot withdrew his sword and assumed a defensive stance, lowering his weapon as his eyes latched onto a flash of dusty blue, the corners of his mouth hopefully curving. Gwaine stumbled into view. Through the filter of the trees, the sunlight caught his hair and twisted it into threads more valuable than any precious metal. He swiftly moved to Lancelot’s side, hands skimming his shoulders.

‘You haven’t found him yet?’

Lancelot shook his head, one hand moving to push back Gwaine’s hair whilst the other fell to the neckerchief tied around his wrist. He had a matching one, in red, covering the veins that Merlin had traced many times over during stolen seconds when their mouths had met in the shadows. He’d left his mark on both of them, and had then had the audacity to pull away his touch and allow the cold air to come rushing in. As Lancelot buried his fingers in Gwaine’s hair, moulding his palm to the soft curve of the other knight’s scalp, Gwaine pushed his head further into Lancelot’s hand, closing his eyes.

‘It had to be during dinner that he went missing,’ Lancelot said. They were the same words that he’d said time and time again, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do but cover the same ground in the hopes that they’d dropped something along the way. ‘We were all distracted, then, and anyone could have taken him without us noticing.’

Lancelot could feel Gwaine’s head moving against his palm in agreement. ‘Particularly if he had nipped off to restock on wine.’ Biting his lip, Gwaine opened his eyes. ‘You don’t think that he’s still in the castle and just got lost on the way?’

‘No. We’ve searched every nook and cranny of that place. And you can’t get lost for two days.’

With a sigh, Gwaine dropped his forehead so it rested beside Lancelot’s. ‘If you head east, I’ll head north,’ he heavily said.

Pressing a kiss to his mouth to remind himself that Gwaine wasn’t an apparition, Lancelot nodded. ‘If you find him, you know what to do.’

Gwaine dropped a kiss on Lancelot’s temple and departed with his mouth set in a thin line, fingers curled around the pommel of his sword. He would be quite happy to never set eyes on a forest again, although that would mean that he would probably never be able to step outside Camelot’s inner courtyard. The grip on his sword tightened as he kicked through undergrowth, other hand firmly keeping the hair off his forehead. On the afternoon of his disappearance, Merlin had taken the string Gwaine always used to tie back his hair, as well as all of the shirt strings the three of them owned, with the justification that he couldn’t play with Gwaine’s hair if it was constantly tied back. Gwaine hadn’t had the chance to say that he only tied it back around Lancelot and Merlin so he didn’t miss any of the subtle smiles that fell across their faces like the dappled shadows of trees in the breeze.

He supposed he could tie it back with Merlin’s neckerchief, but he wanted a piece of Merlin to remain close to his skin. Elyan had been the one to suggest winding the garment around his wrist, when Gwaine had crashed into his and Percival’s chambers after realising Merlin was missing. As Percival had left to frantically seek out Lancelot, who had already been tearing through the castle in panic, Elyan had taken Gwaine softly in his arms and gradually slowed his shallow breaths with careful words and a firm grip. And then, after Gwaine’s heart had stopped gunning at a hundred miles an hour, Elyan had chastised him for the guilt at not taking action like Lancelot had done. Lancelot, it transpired, had not taken as much action as Gwaine had thought, concealing himself in a cupboard where Percival had found him struggling for breath. Merlin had been the most important constant that they both had, and they’d lost him. And when Percival had tentatively guided Lancelot back to Elyan and Gwaine, the two of them had collapsed into one another with tight grips, as if afraid that the other would also melt into the air. It had taken them several hours to recover, by which point Leon had already headed a patrol and searched the surrounding area. They’d found nothing but a bloodstained rag caught on the branch of a blackthorn, and one graze of Gwaine’s and Lancelot’s fingertips had confirmed that it was from Merlin’s clothes. Gwaine still had that tied around his arm, which he had been told was not necessarily wise, but there were no open wounds on his skin.

Kicking a shrub aside, Gwaine set his jaw and scanned for any scrap of Merlin that he could find. Then, hearing Lancelot scream his name, he dropped the hand holding back his hair and sprinted in the direction of Lancelot’s desperate voice. 

Lancelot had actually been making progress. A delicate river dropped through the forest and, thinking perhaps that there might be several hiding places that they had previously overlooked, he had headed towards the bubbling murmurs that came from the gentle current.

In the glancing gaze of the sun, the surface of the river skittered across the tree trunks with fractured grins and Lancelot had stopped for a moment to readjust his eyes. Consequently, it had taken him a while to spot the figure emerging from the river, and even longer to recognise the features.

Merlin had stepped into the sunlight, dripping with water, and for one awful moment Lancelot had been convinced that Merlin had drowned and this was his spirit returning to condemn Lancelot and Gwaine for not rescuing him. But then Merlin had spoken his name in the only way that life itself could, holding out his hands, and Lancelot had disregarded all fears and leapt straight into his arms.

Between calling Gwaine’s name at the top of his lungs, Lancelot’s hands frantically roamed Merlin’s face, searching for any traces of injury. There were bruises around his throat and dried blood at the top of his head, but nothing seemed too serious. And Merlin hadn’t dropped Lancelot yet, despite the knight’s legs being wrapped around his waist, which was a promising sign.

Satisfied that Merlin wasn’t going to keel over, the elation on Lancelot’s face slid away to reveal a stern expression. ‘You could have told us that you were leaving.’

‘Funnily enough, I didn’t have “getting kidnapped” on my to-do list,’ Merlin replied, the fatigue in his eyes shining through as he spoke the fateful word ‘kidnapped’.

‘I meant leaving dinner, but it doesn’t matter now,’ whispered Lancelot, pressing a kiss between Merlin’s eyebrows.

‘Merlin!’

The force with which Gwaine collided with them both, paired with the momentum created as he jumped from the ground, toppled all three of them over and Merlin let out a yelp as he made contact with the damp forest floor, only inches from the perilous edge of the riverbed. Gradually, Lancelot and Gwaine slid from him and established themselves either side of him, drinking in his appearance. Then Gwaine decided to clamber on top of Merlin again and began rigorously running his fingers over Merlin’s body, just as Lancelot had done. Only, this time, his hands found a thin cut on Merlin’s upper arm, where a chunk of his sleeve was missing.

‘What happened?’

Following Gwaine’s gaze, Merlin frowned and prodded the swollen skin around the cut. ‘I’m not sure. Must have caught myself on something when I was being dragged away. Honestly, I don’t understand how word has got out so quickly that Arthur actually values me. He sure as hell doesn’t act like he does when he’s around me.’

Leaving Lancelot to explain the delicate concept of Arthur actually caring about Merlin, Gwaine hastily began to strip off, tossing his armour aside and pulling off his shirt to untie the scrap of Merlin’s clothing that had been retrieved by Leon. Once it was flat in his palm, Gwaine placed it in the gap and slid his gaze over to Lancelot when the material slotted perfectly over Merlin’s cut.

‘Blackthorn.’

At that single word, Lancelot’s eyes snapped up. ‘Fuck.’ Motioning for Gwaine to remove himself from Merlin, Lancelot climbed on top of him instead, hands fluttering around the injury. ‘Did they give you any treatment for this?’

With a frown, Merlin looked between the two knights. ‘No. I didn’t even realise I’d been cut until Gwaine noticed it. I had escape plans on my mind, and then had to try and remember where the castle was. I really wish they had provided us with maps.’

Gwaine, putting his shirt back on – much to Merlin’s dismay – glanced at Lancelot again. ‘Are you going to be able to draw it out, or do I need to find garlic?’

Placing his hands over Merlin’s arm, Lancelot’s brow furrowed. ‘I should be able to draw it out, but it’s going to take a lot.’

‘You can use me, if you need to,’ Gwaine softly said. He drew one of Lancelot’s hands towards him, settling it beneath his shirt and over his heart, his own hand covering the gentle fingers. ‘You can take everything you need.’

‘Um…What are you doing?’ asked Merlin.

‘The long and short of it is, Merlin, that you have been scratched by a blackthorn and if Lancelot doesn’t deal with it then bad things are going to happen very quickly. Lancelot has also not slept for two days so pulling out the infection is going to take a lot of out him if he does it alone. So he can draw his strength from me. Oh, and I know you have magic. And that you’ve been trying to teach Lancelot how to heal.’ Then with a grin, Gwaine added as an afterthought: ‘Lancelot has been teaching me some stuff, and let’s just say that your and his being aren’t the only things I can set on fire.’

‘That’s—That’s a lot of information to receive in several seconds. And why didn’t you tell me that you knew about my magic?’

‘Because I was waiting for you to trust me enough to tell me yourself,’ Gwaine said, though there was no bitterness in his tone. He knew how prejudiced he had been towards magic, and he couldn’t blame Merlin for being terrified about the reaction if he ever came out with it. There were many things in Gwaine’s past that he hadn’t yet disclosed to either of them for fear of being abandoned. ‘Lance, are you ready?’

‘I’m ready,’ Lancelot quietly responded, closing his eyes and focusing on feeling for the teeth of infection that had sunk into Merlin’s skin.

‘It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, Gwaine. It was—It was just that I’d already endangered Lancelot by telling him. I couldn’t bear to have two people I love executed. I was trying to protect you.’

Gwaine ran his thumb across Merlin’s forehead. ‘I know, Merlin. I know.’

They lapsed into silence and Merlin closed his eyes, letting himself drift like a feather in the wind between the boundaries of Lancelot’s and Gwaine’s touch. There was a growing warmth in his arm that was reaching uncomfortable temperatures, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that it meant Lancelot’s trick was working. He’d regretted making the offer of teaching him magic as soon as the words had tumbled loose from his lips, but as much as he’d hated keeping yet another thing from Gwaine, he hadn’t felt able to go back on his word. In the end, though, it had worked out for the best. Lancelot, despite having Merlin as a teacher, had excelled in healing spells – quite how he managed it, Merlin was none the wiser – and as he reflected, the warlock really should have noticed the training injuries on Gwaine’s body that had faded suspiciously quickly overnight. And Gwaine having an accolade for fire spells bore an element of poetic satisfaction as well; just as Lancelot had healed Merlin so long ago with his acceptance, Gwaine was always able to set him beautifully ablaze with love, and Gwaine himself was overflowing with it. Merlin wasn’t entirely certain of what effect he had on them, but they had said over and over that he meant everything to them, so there was definitely something that kept them tethered to him.

Gasping, Lancelot pulled away and promptly fell against Gwaine, his eyes closed. Gwaine himself looked drained, and Merlin wasn’t feeling much better – despite his importance as part of a ransom, his kidnappers hadn’t really put much thought into keeping him healthy over the past couple of days, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up with them both for a week. He sat up and twisted around so he was leaning against them both, relishing the arms that found their way around his body, and he savoured the memory of Lancelot’s weight around his waist when he had clambered out of the river. Placing a hand on their legs, Merlin sent a warm shiver up them both with as much of the energy that he had remaining. It wasn’t exactly healing, but it was a shot of assurance and gratitude, and when he raised his eyes Lancelot and Gwaine were regarding him with identical smiles that illuminated every shadow that fell across their faces.

Then, gradually, Lancelot drew him closer to them, sparks from Gwaine skipping across their interwoven limbs as Merlin was loosely caged by the two people whose fleeting gaze could extinguish the stars, their hearts forming a distinct and harmonious rhythm that was like shy rain on glass.

[frozenprocedural]

Elsarik week, day 2!

Here's my submission for day 2! I wanted to create some sort of story behind this artwork I commissioned from @comickergirl.

Acquaintances

“Any success on the song?”

Elsa let out a sigh at Anna's question and rubbed her eyes, the mostly-blank staves of her sheet music seemingly burned into her retinas. She’d been fighting the song for weeks now- while the lyrics had practically written themselves, the tune continued to evade her.

"Nothing so far. I don't understand. I just can't hear a tune. I can't…" Something prickly and hot rose in her throat. Elsa threw the pencil aside and grabbed the paper, crumpling it and tossing it into the waste bin.

Anna stopped her when she reached for the lyric sheet. "Hey, no, leave that Els. It's been hard since Kai had to leave. Give it some time- it'll come to you."

The burning increased in her gut, and Elsa had to turn away. Kai had been with them for well over a decade. Beyond their accompanying pianist, he'd been a dear friend, helping both of them through the difficulties of establishing themselves as singers and songwriters. But with his wife falling ill, and his own age making it difficult to keep up with the job, he'd made the reluctant decision to retire.

And ever since then, Elsa had been stuck. The song lyrics had come easily enough, though she still had yet to choose a title, but nothing she tried seemed to work. Anna had helped, but both of them were quick to realize how much they'd relied on Kai and his inventive playing to create new works.

"I may have some good news. Kai was able to track down the guy he mentored… Hold on, I have his name somewhere…" Anna scrolled through her phone for several seconds, "Ah! Alarik! Alarik Geatland, that's his name. He'd been travelling, but he's interested in trying out."

Elsa shrugged. "It's worth a try, I suppose." She attempted to hide the disinterest in her voice. It wasn't that she was unaware they needed a new pianist, or how hard Anna was trying. But Elsa had always been withdrawn and slow to trust, and fitting new people into her life, even in what might only be a professional capacity, was difficult.

Anna's sad look was all she needed to know she'd been unsuccssful in keeping her tone neutral. Elsa forced herself to smile back, if only a little bit.

"I'm sorry, Anna, I know you're trying hard to make this happen. I'll keep an open mind, alright? When can he meet with us?"

"How does this afternoon sound?"

Too soon, Elsa wanted to say, but she nodded nonetheless.

………………

He was late.

Elsa was surprised to find she felt irritated at Alarik's tardiness, given how little she'd wanted the meeting. Nonetheless, she found herself tapping the edge of the chair and shifting in her seat.

Just as she was about to suggest they leave, the door to the studio burst open, admitting a tall lean man with a head of red curls flopping into his face. He was drenched, and Elsa realized it was pouring outside.

"I am so sorry!" he gasped, pushing his hair aside to reveal a sharp-featured face and bright green eyes. "I got a flat tire a few blocks from here, and had to run the rest of the way. If you are still willing to give me a chance to do so, I would still like to audition."

Anna was already standing, her smile wide. "Alarik, of course we will hear your audition. I'm sorry to hear you had trouble on the way, but you're here now, and that's what matters. I'm Anna, and that's my sister Elsa. Why don't you go ahead and play something for us?"

Elsa nodded, surprised to find herself almost… amused. Alarik's whole face lit up at Anna's words, with a wide grin that made him look boyish and young.

Alarik set aside his soaked jacket and went to the piano, lifting the key cover and sitting down. He closed his eyes, resting his hands on the keys for a moment, then began.

It was an old seafaring tune Elsa recognized from her childhood, simple enough in nature, but somehow, Alarik made it...more. He skillfully wove new harmonies and rhythms to create a masterful rendition that had Elsa tapping her foot and humming along, completely lost in the music. When he came to the last notes, she found herself wishing there was more.

Anna gave her a look, an eyebrow raised in question. Elsa nodded and stood, walking over to Alarik and offering her hand.

"Welcome to our group, Alarik."

Somehow, his smile was even wider than before.

…………

Despite their positive first meeting, it took Elsa time to become accustomed to Alarik's being there. To his credit, he gave her the space she needed, didn't try to engage her beyond what the job entailed. He and Anna got along almost right away, often laughing and joking. Even Kristoff, when he came in, tolerated Alarik's presence, although they spoke less to one another than Elsa spoke to Alarik.

And still, Elsa's song continued to evade her. With the upcoming tour looming, her frustration grew. She desperately wanted to perform it, but with each passing day, she was forced to accept it would not come to be.

It was after one particularly tough day, hot and muggy, with the air conditioning doing little to alleviate the oppressive atmosphere. With multiple failed attempts to gain traction with the tune, Elsa, fighting a growing headache, finally crumpled the paper and hurled it to the side with a growled “I can’t!”. Ignoring Anna’s outstretched hand and Alarik’s concerned look, Elsa found an empty room and entered, pressing her palms to her throbbing head.

She could just hear the murmured conversation between Alarik and Anna, although she couldn’t make out anything distinct. She heard retreating footsteps, then silence.

As she focused on her breathing, eyes closed, she heard a few tentative notes begin. Slow, spread out, the notes being teased out. Silence again, and then a lilting line began to play, a few notes standing out from the repeating pattern. Elsa listened, something hopeful growing in her chest. She stood, returning to the practice room to find her crumpled paper resting on the music shelf. Alarik was bent over the keys, and even without seeing his face, Elsa knew his eyes were closed. His head swayed back and forth, his fingers flying over the keyboard. The song had changed, sped up, the fingers of his left hand rolling over and over, invoking a feeling of running, of freedom.

“That’s it.” Elsa didn’t realize she’d spoken so loudly until Alarik stopped, turning to look at her with wide eyes. She shook her head, instinctively taking a step back. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, wait, please.” Alarik held his hand out. “Anna… Anna said you’d been working on this song. I’m sorry if I overstepped, but I wanted to try to see if I could tease something out. If you don’t want me to, I’ll stop.”

Elsa stopped, then stepped up to the piano, resting a hand on the edge. “Could… could you play the beginning again?”

Alarik grinned. “Of course.” He began to play once more, and it was Elsa’s turn to close her eyes, listening to the flow of the tune. With each rolling note, a melody began to form. She hummed it at first, then let the lyrics flow.

Every inch of me is trembling

But not from the cold….

…………….

No matter how many times she performed, Elsa always experienced a rush of nerves before stepping on stage. This time was no different, and she found herself nervously plucking at the fabric of her white dress. It was the final song of the night, after Anna and Kristoff’s duet.

“Hey,” She jumped, then turned to see Alarik. He wore a dark suit over a deep green shirt, his normally messy curls oiled and combed back. “Are you alright?”

“A bit nervous, that’s all.” He nodded.

“For what it’s worth, I know you’ll be fine. You’re amazing at this.” He flushed, looking away, but Elsa found herself smiling.

“So are you.” It was her turn to blush, but before she could say anything more, she heard their names being called, and the stage manager motioned them on. Before they stepped into the light, Alarik took her hand and squeezed it.

Elsa greeted the crowd, as she had done numerous times, and then nodded to Alarik, who was at the piano bench. He nodded back, then began.

The notes all but danced about her, and as she began to sing, Alarik’s playing wove masterfully around her, bolstering her sound without being overpowering, swelling as the bridge and final chorus echoed through the hall. As the final notes echoed throughout the hall, the audience surged to their feet, their applause thunderous. As they stepped back and made one final bow, Elsa glanced sideways at Alarik, surprised to feel a warmth growing within as she watched him, curls flopping in front of his face.

She found herself eager to see what more they would accomplish...together.

[hazel-writes]

Summary: You begin your first official day of work and meet your new coworkers, who turn out to be full of surprises.

Word Count: 2,300

Notes: This chapter is a bit slow, but I'm excited to introduce you to some new characters! If you want to see Picrew face-claims for these characters, look here. Otherwise, imagine them to look however you want!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I'm trying hard to hide

Keep the sun out of my eyes

Close them tight

And now I'm waiting for the moon to rise

Belle and Sebastian ~ Waiting for the Moon

You walked through the door, nervously wringing your hands, despite your best efforts not to. Your eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on a large, grey reception desk. Sitting behind the desk was none other than Ms. Stoney, the uptight woman who had “welcomed” you onto the ship the day before.

You took a deep breath before walking over to her, waiting patiently for her to look up and address you — but she didn’t. You tried subtly clearing your throat, shifting your feet from side to side, and moving into her line of sight, but nothing seemed to grab her attention. Eventually you forced out a meek, “Hi, there!” to which she responded with an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Oh, it’s you again,” she grumbled with a mix of tiredness and disappointment.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” you smiled back, which you could tell bothered her. “I’m looking for the artist workspace? I know it’s somewhere within this department, but I wasn’t sure where exactly…”

“Artist?” she questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah! Ya know, an individual who… does art?” Your attempt at an explanation was met by silence. “Umm… they’re usually covered in some sort of paint or clay, might dress a little funny, are often a little angsty, possibly tormented by some aspect of their past?” More silence. You give a strained smile; you really shouldn’t keep trying to talk over awkward silences. “Not ringing a bell, huh?”

Through clenched teeth she replied,“I believe the people you are looking for are through those doors on the left.”

She said the word people like it left a bad taste in her mouth. She obviously didn’t think too kindly of them.

“Great, thanks,” you replied, heading to the door she indicated.

You opened it, and to your surprise you saw no canvases, paint splatters, tin cans, or haphazard brushes littering the room. The walls and floors were a spotless white. A large, circular table was positioned in the center of the room, surrounded by sleek modern chairs and data pads on tripods. This didn’t look like your dad’s studio back home; a place where the remnants of unfinished projects were put on display for everyone to see and learn from. Here, you could already tell: making mistakes wasn’t an option. There was no room for error.

You returned your attention to what was in front of you, only to have three pairs of eyes meet yours.

The first pair belonged to a girl of medium height. She had long, slightly frazzled, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that contrasted her pale skin. She jumped when you walked in, her face immediately lighting up when she saw you. The second pair belonged to a taller girl. She had warm, chestnut eyes that complemented her dark, sepia skin. Her hair framed her face in a fan of tight curls. She seemed to examine you carefully, squinting slightly, before turning back to her work. The final pair belonged to a boy of medium height. He had shaggy light brown hair and a tanned, terracotta complexion. He looked at you with curious hazel eyes, smirking ever so slightly.

The three of them looked to be about your age, somewhere in their 20's.

The blonde-haired girl ran over to you, pulling you away from your observations. “You must be the new girl!” she exclaimed. “I’m Rilea, your new best friend.”

You were taken aback by her enthusiastic and cheerful attitude; it wasn’t something you encountered very often on the Finalizer. You laughed nervously. “Oh, uhh… cool?”

The boy with the disheveled hair spoke up from the back of the room. “Don’t mind her, she has a new best friend each week.” He smirked at Rilea and she threw a box of tissues at him playfully.

“While that may be true,” she continued, turning to face you, “I can tell that you are going to be my favorite best friend.”

“That’s literally what you say to every single new person you meet,” the boy piped up again.

“For star's sake, Takoda, why do you have to be such a mudcrutch?!” Rilea shouted at him, frustrated.

You continued to observe in silence, still adjusting to the rapid shift of atmosphere in this room compared to the rest of the Finalizer.

You moved to go sit, finding an open seat next to the quiet, curly-haired girl. You gave her a small smile when you sat down, and she returned the favor, scooting her chair over to give you more room. Rilea, and the boy whose name apparently was Takoda, continued to argue like a couple of four year olds.

“Are they always like this?” you asked the girl seated next to you.

“Yup, pretty much,” she replied. “That is, of course, in between the times when they aren’t getting any work done… and the times when they still aren’t getting any work done.”

You laughed. “Well, at least one person here seems to have a level-head.”

“Make that two,” she said, giving you a smile. “My name is Akilah. What’s yours?”

You told her your full name before giving her your nickname, Wren, as well.

“Wren…” she pondered. “Not as in Kylo Ren, right?”

“No, no, no, stars, no,” you emphasized. “It’s the name of a- ” You paused, reconsidering. “I actually don’t know where it comes from, my friends just started calling me by it one day...”

Akilah stared at you intently for a few moments before Takoda shouted over at the two of you.

“Hey, you two aren’t gossiping about us now, are ya?”

You sighed, “Nope, just getting to know Akilah here.”

Rilea poked her head out from behind Takoda, “She's my best friend too!”

You mentally face-palmed and turned to fully face the group.

“So, this is the artist workspace?” you questioned, skeptically.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I wouldn’t go that far as to say we are artists,” said Takoda.

You were confused. “But I thought-”

“You thought wrong. Here, you just follow the rules and instructions laid out for you. We are given colors, words, and images, and it’s simply our job to assemble it all into a neat poster or flyer for distribution.”

“Oh…” you replied, disappointed.

“I’m not even an artist,” he continued. “They just stuck me here after I was medically discharged from the trooper program. For the most part, everyone in this sector just got placed here because there was nothing else they could do”

“So why did they bother hiring me then?” you questioned. “If I’m gonna be honest, I’m used to a little more creative freedom back home. They could’ve chosen anyone for this job.”

“I don’t know,” Takoda replied. “Maybe they want their propaganda to look good for a change.” He smirked.

“Where did you say you were from again, bestie?” Rilea asked.

“Oh, I didn’t,” you replied. “I’m from Lothal.”

Immediately, each member of the team looked at each other, worried.

“Lothal…” Rilea repeated. “That’s one of the Order's targeted planets right now. I have a feeling that pretty soon we'll be distributing posters there. Maybe Hux thinks you can help reason with the people there?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Akilah added. “First Order propaganda would be a lot easier to accept coming from a fellow citizen.”

You pondered their words. What they were saying was probably true: you were simply a tool to be used by the First Order. They didn’t care about your talent or passion; they just needed your image.

“Well, I don't know how helpful I'd be on that front,” you sighed, pausing. “So what is the project you are working on now?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” said Takoda. “Our fourth member should be returning soon with our new assignment.”

“Fourth member?” you questioned.

At that moment, the door swung open with a dramatic bang, revealing a tall, lanky boy with jet black hair and evergreen eyes. He was pale with light freckles speckling his face and arms. His eyes narrowed when they met yours, scrutinizing your presence.

“Look, here he is, ‘fun-sized Kylo’ himself,” Takoda quipped.

Rilea leaned towards you. “He claims that he adopted the whole ‘tormented soul, dramatic hair’ look before Ren even thought of it,” she snickered.

You were confused, but luckily Akilah came to your rescue.

“This is Soren,” she explained. “Our fourth member… Well, fifth, now.”

“Oh!” you replied, stretching out your hand for him to shake. “It’s nice to meet you I’m -”

“Irrelevant,” he interrupted bluntly, briskly brushing past you to sit at the back of the room.

You stood there, hand still outstretched, looking to the others for guidance.

Takoda spoke first, turning to face Soren. “Hey, laser brain, why don’t ya try being a little nicer to our newest member.”

“This is our newest member?” he responded, disapprovingly. “She doesn’t look like the First Order’s finest.”

“That’s because I’m not,” you interjected, defensive. “I’m from Lothal originally. Today is technically my first day with the Order.”

At the mention of your home planet, Soren visibly tensed, his fingers curling into tight fists. The other three looked nervously at each other; they knew something you didn’t.

Akilah, again, interrupted the tense silence. “We should probably get to work… What’s the new assignment Sor?”

Hearing her voice, he seemed to relax a little, pulling out a few papers with various sketches and color swatches.

“They want us to design posters directed at the people of Dantooine. The First Order is currently working to establish a blockade on the planet. It is our job to convince the natives to submit, while also showing them that they have the ability to contribute their own assets to our cause.”

You frowned, unsure of a few posters' ability to do such a thing. You were familiar with Dantooine; its history was deeply rooted in rebel allegiance. You doubted that a few pieces of paper could somehow shift the ingrained attitudes of thousands of people. But then again, you were an artist. And as an artist, it was your job to put blind faith into your work, simply hoping that others could see what you saw in it.

“How successful has this First Order propaganda been in the past?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Takoda laughed. “Not very. Usually, it just makes the citizens more angry. But that kind of works in favor of the Order: as soon as the rebels and their sympathizers become violent, whatever happens to them at the hands of the Order is then justified, so to speak.”

“What would happen if we tried to mix things up a bit? Like attempting a different style, color scheme, or whatever it may be, to make the posters more effective?” you suggested.

Suddenly serious, Takoda spoke. “No. We don’t do anything without the Order’s permission. Never. That’s our number one rule. We can mess around and make jokes all we want in here, but whatever finished product leaves this room has to be exactly what was requested of us.”

Something in Takoda’s voice made it seem like there was history behind this rule — history that didn't conclude with a happy ending. Looking around the room, you knew you were right. Everyone, except for Soren, was avoiding your gaze, choosing to stare at their shoes or the floor. Soren continued to bore into you with a death-glare, but your instincts told you he was like this with everyone and not to take it too personally.

“Yeah, I get it,” you responded. Soren looked at you sceptically. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I’m on my last warning with General Hux — another mistake will pretty much guarantee my head a new home in the trash compactor.”

“Speaking of Hux, we are to report to him tomorrow with drafts,” Soren finally spoke up.

“Tomorrow?!” Rilea exclaimed.

“Yup,” Soren replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course he would pull something like this, giving us less than 24 hours notice...” Rilea muttered, irritated.

“Stars, I swear that man is 90% petulant child, 7% attempted scariness, and 3% toupee,” you responded.

This earned a chuckle from the group. Even Soren managed a smirk.

“Yeah, well, sadly, that petulant child has a big red button sitting under his bony finger that can destroy entire planets in the blink of an eye,” said Akilah, quietly. “So, we should probably get to work.”

“She’s right,” you say, desperate to end any talk of Hux. “Let’s start.”

And with that, the five of you began work on what was your first official project on the Finalizer. Akilah showed you how to accurately read the diagrams that the Order had provided. Rilea and Takoda attempted to work for a few minutes before devolving into yet another tissue paper fight. Soren sat quietly in the corner, working on the new project, glancing up every now and then at you and Akilah.

Despite the hectic menagerie of personalities that surrounded you, you were glad that you weren't stuck working with cold, robotic First Order employees like Ms. Stoney. You desperately wanted to ask your new friends about their backstories and how they came to be “artists” on the Finalizer, but Takoda and Rilea were busy stuffing tissues in each other’s ears, and Akilah and Soren seemed like the ‘work in silence’ types. You decided to settle with your own thoughts for now; it wasn’t as if you were lacking them.

It occurred to you that tomorrow you would have to face Hux again, the memory of what he sneered at you in the hallway this morning still fresh in your mind: Strike two.

You didn’t know what strike three would involve, but you definitely didn’t want to find out.

Unfortunately, you didn't get that lucky.

--------------------------------------------

Previous || Masterlist || Next

[xtruss]

Interview with Mary Trump

"Donald Is a Fascist and the Republicans Are Trying To Destroy Our Democracy"

In an interview, Mary Trump, the only niece of the former American president, talks about an uncle she describes as dangerous, his enduring power and the growing hate in America.

— Interview Conducted By Marc Pitzke | 08.25.2021

— SPIEGEL International

Mary Trump: "He's literally the weakest person I've ever known." Foto: Sara Naomi Lewkowicz / DER SPIEGEL; Michael Reynolds / Zuma Press / action press

Mary Trump, Donald Trump's only niece, has just finished a talk show appearance by video chat from her kitchen. She's sitting in the library of her apartment building, trying to relax. The ceiling-high shelves behind her are filled with carefully curated coffee table books. Through the wall of windows, one can see Manhattan's thick traffic below.

Trump, however, seems irritated. "This was the first time I've been treated badly in an interview," she says.

She had just appeared on "The View," a popular morning chat show, where they discussed politics, the pandemic and racism. Yet one co-host checked out of the conversation without even greeting her: Meghan McCain, daughter of the late senator John McCain, who had been reviled and insulted by Donald Trump even as he went to his grave.

The younger McCain is famous – infamous – for her own conservative tirades. After the show with Mary Trump, she tweeted: "There is no 'good' Trump family member to me."

And there it is, Mary Trump's burden: her last name.

She will be forever linked to her uncle, his lies, is hubris, his incompetence, his autocratic tendencies – and the damaging fallout from his one term as president.

Last year, the psychologist published her memoirs: "Too Much and Never Enough." The book revealed the horrific family history of the Trumps – and made her a target of Trump fanatics, who still worship the former president. For months, she hardly left the house – because of COVID-19, but also out of fear of being recognized and vilified.

Now Trump, 56, has written a second book, "The Reckoning: America's Trauma and Finding a Way To Heal." It addresses the darkest period of U.S. history, with the nation's enduring racism, and, of course, her uncle.

DER SPIEGEL: Ms. Trump, last summer you called your uncle the world's most dangerous man. Now that he's out of office, do you still feel that way?

Trump: After the election, I was happy for about a minute. I was very relieved, of course, but the number of people who voted for him was just heartbreaking. Seventy-four million! Yes, Joe Biden won. But the Democrats in general didn't win enough. We needed a total repudiation of Donald and his party, and we didn't get one.

DER SPIEGEL: So, you think he still presents a danger?

Trump: We're not out of the woods. It became clear right after the election that he was going to do everything in his power to undermine the legitimacy of the results and that the Republicans were just going to let him do it. For him, losing is not acceptable and winning doesn't mean legitimately winning, it just means getting the win. He knows he didn't win, but I don't believe he knows he lost, either.

DER SPIEGEL: How so?

Trump: He's been trying for two years to steal this election. I don't believe he can wrap his head around the fact that everything he did, all the stops he pulled out, all the stops the Republican Party pulled out for him, haven't worked. So, he's still trying to steal this election.

DER SPIEGEL: Do you see Jan. 6, when a mob of his supporters stormed the Capitol Building, as such an attempt?

Trump: He is very good at finding people weaker than he is, which is shocking because he's literally the weakest person I've ever known. But they're out there obviously, in large numbers. Then, there are people who are much smarter and powerful than he is, who know how to use him. So, it's a very dangerous combination. Were there people around him who knew that it could very possibly lead to that moment? Absolutely. Was he completely willing and comfortable to take advantage of the situation and make it worse for his benefit? Absolutely.

DER SPIEGEL: Do you think he welcomed what he saw on Jan. 6?

Trump: Oh, my gosh, yeah. It was probably one of the best days of his life. The worse it got, the happier he was. It wasn't an accident when he told the mob that if he wasn't granted the victory, it was Mike Pence's fault. So, should we be surprised that people were running around with nooses wanting to string Mike Pence up? It would have been perfectly fine with him. Absolutely. The only thing he probably regrets about that is that there wasn't more violence.

DER SPIEGEL: What went through your mind that day?

Trump: I hadn't listened to his speech beforehand, because I've tried whenever possible not to listen to him or look at him, because I don't care what he has to say. At first, like everybody else, I found it really hard to know what precisely was going on. It just looked like a mess. The first word that came to mind was tawdry. But then it became obvious to me that it was much worse than that. This is our Capitol! This is the center of – well, I don't like to say American democracy, because I don't think America has ever completely been a democracy like we aspire to be.

DER SPIEGEL: Do you think he will run again in 2024?

Trump: I don't know. But because he's being enabled, he sees an opening. He feels the power. He also knows that the only way he stays out of legal trouble is to get back into power.

DER SPIEGEL: Does it weigh on you to be so personally connected to his world? In your new book you reveal that in 2017, a few months after your uncle's inauguration, you went into inpatient treatment for post traumatic stress disorder. What happened?

Trump: I just remember feeling so out of control. I remember spinning out and didn't know how to stop. I lived in a very Republican town then, so I was really isolated. For the first time in my life, I lost friends because of an election, and I knew I needed to do something. But despite the fact that I'm a psychologist, I didn't know there were treatment programs for that. I knew there were for addictions, but I didn't know there was such a thing for post-traumatic stress.

DER SPIEGEL: Your uncle traumatized half the nation.

Trump: Every once in a while, I think about how this country will be forever stained by what he did. That's really hard. We never recover from that. Maybe in 200 years, but not while I'm alive.

DER SPIEGEL: Don't you think his spell is broken? Joe Biden's policies are pretty popular, and Trump's "Big Lie" hasn't amounted to anything.

Trump: The Democrats don't understand the seriousness of the threat. They are playing by rules in a rulebook that the Republicans lit on fire. There are no rules anymore. They need to start fighting like their lives depend on it. But they're just not willing to do that. There is an unwillingness – also in the U.S. media – to use the kind of language that is accurate and necessary to get people to understand the seriousness of the threat.

DER SPIEGEL: How serious is it?

Trump: Donald is a fascist, and the Republicans are an autocratic, anti-democratic, counter-majoritarian party that would be perfectly happy to establish some kind of apartheid in this country. They are actively trying to destroy our democracy. If they win back the House in 2022, it would be fatal to the American experiment. I wouldn't be surprised if they make Donald, two years before the presidential election, speaker of the house. And then there will never be another Democrat allowed to win an election.

DER SPIEGEL: Do you really believe that?

"The Democrats don't understand the seriousness of the threat. They are playing by rules in a rulebook that the Republicans lit on fire. There are no rules anymore."

Trump: We see it happening already. Last year, there were 155 million presidential votes cast in this country. There have been maybe 36 cases of voter fraud, which is a vanishingly small number. And yet, we've got hundreds of voter suppression laws in place or being pushed by the Republicans. If the Democrats lose the House and/or the Senate in the 2022 midterms, it's over. It is over.

DER SPIEGEL: You don't think the U.S. democracy is resilient?

Trump: The way this country is structured is inherently anti-democratic.

DER SPIEGEL: What do you mean?

Trump: The U.S. Constitution is not a democratic document. For example, we currently have a 50-50 split in the Senate, but the 50 Republican senators represent 40 million less people than the 50 Democratic senators – because the constitution gives every state two senate seats, no matter how populous.

Trump supporters in Washington, D.C. on Jan. 6: "It was probably one of the best days of his life. The worse it got, the happier he was." Foto: Shay Horse / NurPhoto / Getty Images

DER SPIEGEL: In your new book, you write: "The ugly history of our country is filled with sordid, barbaric and inhuman acts committed by average citizens which were encouraged or at least condoned by the highest levels of government. To deny this history means to deny our national trauma." That's a devastating judgement – how did you come to that conclusion?

Trump: If there's one thing Americans are very good at, it's perpetuating myths about ourselves.

DER SPIEGEL: For instance?

Trump: One of the most astonishing things this country got away with was portraying itself as a beacon of democracy during World War II, while at the same time an entire population of people was being held in what was essentially a closed, fascist state in the South. Black Americans who served their country came home only to be lynched because they had the audacity to wear the uniform. Part of that is also that people think that the North were the good guys. But a large percentage of Northerners were really racist, too, and perfectly happy to have Blacks freed, but did not want them to have any political power, so they decided that it was more expedient to make common cause with the former Confederates than with the freed men and women.

DER SPIEGEL: Isn't the way of looking at U.S. history changing rapidly?

Trump: The right is doing everything to make sure that Americans continue to stay ignorant about their own history. Imagine if post-World War II Germany hadn't taken the steps that it has taken.

DER SPIEGEL: Not all Germans back then were too excited about that, either.

Trump: That's a good point. It requires the political will. We let people off the hook for flying the Confederate flag because they claim it's just about their Southern history. But they know what it means. It means that they are completely on board with white people owning black people.

DER SPIEGEL: Is the U.S. still a racist country?

Trump: If you're a white adult American, it's almost impossible not to be racist because of the media environment we grow up in, our families or our friends' families, the influences of our education. But when you become an adult, you need to take responsibility for that stuff. If we don't acknowledge it, then it's never going to change. But it's very hard to acknowledge that.

DER SPIEGEL: How much do you blame your uncle for that?

Trump: I blame him for the fact that it's becoming more and more acceptable to be openly racist. What Donald did was prove that racism is a successful platform when you run for office in this country. People like him are out there very openly being racist and white supremacist, and they're getting tens of millions of people to vote for them because either they agree with them or they don't have a problem with it because lower taxes are more important. We're in a really dangerous place.

"The Republicans are an autocratic, anti-democratic, counter-majoritarian party that would be perfectly happy to establish some kind of apartheid in this country."

DER SPIEGEL: Do you also blame him for the disastrous COVID-19 situation here last year?

Trump: That's been one of the worst things for me to deal with. Knowing that your uncle is responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people is not a good feeling. That many died in exactly the same circumstances my father did, alone, because my uncle, who could have gone to the hospital to be with my dad, rather went to the movies. So, that's been really, really hard. Because of his incompetence and his cruelty we're still struggling with this. Because of his encouragement of the unvaccinated and his failure to model decent behavior, which he is incapable of doing. It's just a kick in the teeth.

DER SPIEGEL: Wasn't he one of the first to get vaccinated?

Trump: Secretly! Everybody in the family got vaccinated. They're all vaccinated. Imagine how people are going to react when they find out that they've all been betrayed and the people they put their faith in lied to them for political expediency.

DER SPIEGEL: Psychologically, how do you get people to admit they've lived a lie for so long?

Trump: It's hard. I don't hold out hope for most of these people. I really don't.

DER SPIEGEL: That sounds rather pessimistic.

Trump: I am bizarrely a quite optimistic person. Maybe that took a hit over the last couple of years. But I am pretty much an optimist. I haven't given up hope.

DER SPIEGEL: Yet the next Trump generation seems ready. Do you expect your cousin, Donald Jr., or your cousin Ivanka, to run for political office?

Trump: No.

DER SPIEGEL: Why not?

Trump: My uncle is such a buffoon, but he does have charisma. If you met him, for the first 10 seconds you would see it. After that, you would realize that he's a total psychopath, but a lot of people are very susceptible to his kind of charisma. Donald Jr. and Ivanka don't have any of that. They don't survive politically without him. They don't survive in business without him. No, I don't see that. Hopefully, they'll all end up in jail.

DER SPIEGEL: What's next for you?

Trump: My next book will not be about my uncle. I'm taking a break. Never write a book about trauma while you're still being actively traumatized.

DER SPIEGEL: Ms. Trump, we thank you for this interview.

— Mary Trump's latest book, "The Reckoning: Our Nation's Trauma and Finding a Way To Heal," was published in August by St. Martin's Press. The book has also been published in German translation by Heyne Verlag.

— Mary Trump, 56, holds a doctorate in psychology and has known the former president since childhood. Her father Fred Trump, Jr., Donald Trump's older brother, died in 1981. Her first book, "Too Much and Never Enough," about her uncle became a bestseller in the United States in 2020.