#i just think the ensuing chaos could heal my soul

[wildernesslaughtered]

you know what i really want? a plot where a very alive adult jackie somehow someway through some multiversal shenanigans ends up in the canon timeline

[caralara]

Hi there - it’s your rambling anon from last week back again. So, it’s 1:45 am where I am right now, I just murdered a bag of cheddar and sour cream potato chips after being held hostage by my brother for 5 hours watching some insane pro wrestling thing, and on the drive back to my hotel I got to thinking:

What if Glasto weekend was Louis at his absolute pettiest?

Think about it -

Harry agrees to be Shania’s surprise guest and join her for a soulful rendition of all her hits that Harry knows and LOVES, as he’s made clear many times over the years.

Louis catches wind and decides to be the most visible he’s been - outside of work or Barney’s Beanery - in years, complete with multiple outfit changes and thirst trap shirtless photos.

Well now, Harry clearly can’t come and kick out the jams with Shania. He knows the chaos that would ensue after 8 years of the two of them - as far as we know - not being any closer to each other than a few city blocks in NYC. He nopes out on his gal.

And then, to rub salt in the wound, his ex homeskillet brings a tv to the festival to show the England game and becomes the hero of the weekend, without having to sing one note.

Game, set, match for one Mr. Louis Tomlinson, pettiest ex-boyfriend in the world. 💅🏼

Meanwhile, Harry is stuck in Italy getting his Pleasing tote bag packed up for yet another stint on a Lime bike tomorrow.

I don’t know. That’s all I got.

that would be really fucking funny tbh, but from an event / entertainment point of view, the reason “my ex is there” doesn’t really hold up for it to be able to get cancelled that last minute hahahah

Nonetheless, if it wasn’t for that, I could totally see it. But then again, I do believe they split amicably, so I think after the heartbreak healing for a little bit they just wanna live their lives and careers independently from each other

But this is a great idea for a fanfic hahahaha

[raspberryspace]

+ It’s been one month. I miss you more than you will ever know. I’m sorry.

+ I journal extensively everyday to keep myself at ease. I wish I could post them up everyday just to feel seen. I read what you write, I wish I could spill my heart out and have it write out everything I’m thinking about all of the time. But I hold myself back from ever sending things. I already messed up once. But I can’t help think that expressing ourselves would help. I guess that’s why I’m replying to all this.

+ I understand that just because someone’s intentions were to never take advantage of someone, it doesn’t mean it still didn’t occur or even felt that way for the other person. I’m learning more about myself now through the little therapy sessions I’ve attended so far. I live in my head a lot, where things are logical, cut dry, yes no. I find it hard to live in my heart, where my emotions run free and chaos ensues. I once found sanctuary in my heart, when I was able to share it with someone else. That comfort was built over a long time of what I thought was understanding and emotional connection. A bond. It was something I subconsciously did not want to ever leave. It was comfortable. But comfortable for one heart does not equate to comfortable in another. My inability to leave that comfort ended up trapping me. trapping me inside my own little world that was my body. I never saw the heart on the other side, in turmoil. In pain. That I caused. I was trying so hard to make sure you did not feel the same pain I grew up knowing, that I ended up inflicting something so much worse.

+ There were times I really tried to make sure I didn’t stand in your way. I remember crying over nights after I made mention that I wanted you to do “normal” things I wanted you experience what I hadn’t. I knew that I couldn’t hold you back. and yet here I am still crying night after night when you’re able to experience the normalcy of everyday. It must have been so easy to walk away from the pain. You said it yourself it’s been a relief. I suppose it’s what I wanted in the end. I never wanted to be in your way, I just hopped I could have been beside you is all. I wanted to and got to, see you grow. Don’t hate yourself because you never stopped it. It’s not your burden to carry. you did not make the mistakes, you were not the selfish person who thought they were helping. You are a wonderful person who has so much good in them and will do good. I know that much to be true.

+That change - I felt that change too. The wave of emotions from the past started to crest and wash up on the shore of even my isolated island. It was more than the daily stress of work and school emanating from you, I could feel more showing, more pain was coming through. The pain I had caused - the pain I couldn’t take away no matter what I did. You let it out before, you crashed that wave right on my island and I stared right into it as it came down on me. I truly felt it that day in December, I felt the visceral hurt that comes from the soul. That changed me, it began the slow shifting of the sands to hopefully build a better bridge between us I thought. one that focuses on understanding what I did to you. How we could begin to calm the seas inside. but the seas come and go, at a pace I could not begin to keep. It’s clear now that you did not want to build that bridge, the seas were too rough, the past kept it that way. I can’t blame you either, it’s not your fault. I was the one that stirred up your internal sea, I was the cause of those violent waves of emotions that ate away at you. Day by day. I do wish you knew the amount of times I woke up and spoke to you. Tucked up your hair and pulled the blanket up a little more. Even the last month.

+ post it more. I know. I know it was awful. I’m sorry you can’t look back on any of it. I was told part of the healing process for this was to feel anger towards the other person, it means you’re moving on. I don’t know if I am though. Our angers are placed in different parts. I can’t be angry that you don’t want to mend a bridge across painful seas. I just can’t. But you have every right to be angry. I understand that. I almost applaud it. It’s okay to feel the way you are. You don’t have to forgive me. I want you to be validated. I only ask that your healing journey continues at your own pace, please be careful out there. I worry about you when I shouldn’t. I would hate myself more if you got taken advantage of again. At least take that lesson from me.

+ I have had so much to reflect on I’m sorry. I truly wish that I could tell you all that I’m feeling, I want to validate your feelings and hear what you want to express. but I can’t ever get myself to ask for another call. I’m sorry that it may not feel fair at times, I have had the time to reflect and think at my own pace. Not trying to juggle school work and volunteering. I could have done more. I should have done things differently. My life will forever be built upon knowing how much I have changed someone else��s, and not for the better. I wish, I really wish that is something I can change in the future. But I don’t think that’s something I see myself ever not living with.

+ it’s not that you can’t be stronger. We need this. We need to express ourselves to one another. I think we both know we need to. I wish I was strong enough to call you and tell you this. I can only hope you do get to read this one day. Sorry if this has been incoherent or bad, I was planning on watching the sunrise and journaling but instead wanted to write this out at 6am. Its now 8am.

Have a good morning

[onestowatch]

19 LGBTQIA+ Artists You Need to Listen to This PRIDE

PRIDE is all about self-empowerment and self-determination. It’s about not just being comfortable with who you are but showing the world that there is pride to be found in being unapologetically you. And that’s why, this PRIDE, we wanted to shine a light on a small handful of our favorite LGBTQIA+ artists. Ranging from rapturous hyperpop, revelatory bossa nova meditations, romantic rave music, and everywhere in between, these are 19 LGBTQIA+ artists who deserve a spot on your PRIDE playlist and every playlist for that matter. 

girl in red

In her debut single, “i wanna be your girlfriend,” a teenage girl in red unapologetically sings of young queer love over a mesh of lofi production and jangly instrumentation that would come to define much of the bedroom pop genre. It is a standout moment of unrelenting honesty, and a serenely simple three-minute confession that would go on to strike a chord with millions who were afraid of what it meant to be something more than friends. Now, a few years later and following the release of her critically-acclaimed debut album, if i could make it go quiet, Ulven still writes with that same emotional honesty, putting forth every ounce of herself for the world to see. 

Meet Me @ The Altar

“the little lonely black alt girl i was in the 00s is living rn, she never even dared to hope she might see this 💖💖,” reads the top comment on Meet Me @ The Altar’s music video for their single “Garden.” It is a sentiment shared by much of the rising band’s fanbase, who are used to the mainstream alternative scene championing cis white males. Existing in the space between pop-punk and hardcore, Meet Me @ The Altar exists to challenge the notion that queer women of color don’t have a place in punk. And after penning a record deal with Fueled By Ramen, home to the likes of Paramore, Panic! at the Disco, and nearly every pop-punk band that made up your middle school playlist, chances are this is just the beginning for our new favorite punks.

THE BLOSSOM

For Lily Lizotte, better known as THE BLOSSOM, music exists as the synthesis and subsequent recontextualization of a host of past experiences. From the sound of their dad belting away in his home studio to stumbling upon niche Internet subgenres, THE BLOSSOM transforms all this and more into a sound that is instantly recognizable but impossible to perfectly place. The culmination of this host of influences takes sweeping sonic form on their debut EP, ‘97 BLOSSOM, a perfectly imperfect introduction to one of the most fascinating rising artists of recent memory.

BIMINI

You may recognize BIMINI as Bimini Bon-Boulash, the runner-up on the second season of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK. And now you should familiarize yourself with Bimini, brit-pop extraordinaire. Releasing their debut single “God Save This Queen” earlier this June, Bimini deftly channels late ‘90s brit-pop and punk to deliver a single that has us absolutely living for the ensuing chaos. Serving up multiple looks throughout its eye-catching music video, “God Save This Queen” is not just a non-binary anthem but a veritable 2021 lookbook.

Hope Tala

With a sound that falls somewhere between turn-of-the-century R&B and bossa nova, Hope Tala’s music is expectedly a dream given sonic form. Perhaps that’s why much of the UK singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist’s music is able to so deftly weave imagery of love, heartache, and teenage fistfights into tightknit tracks that feel simultaneously transcendental and deeply personal. And with the release of her 2020 EP, Girl Eats the Sun, Hope Tala poses one all-important question, “Why have a life if you’re not going to do something crazy and make a difference in the world?” 

chloe moriondo

For much of chloe moriondo’s avid fanbase, watching her transform from budding ukulele sensation to pop-punk phenom very much meant watching her grow up. Getting her start on YouTube, moriondo's fanbase witnessed her evolve as both an artist and person. Coming out in the aptly titled “a ramble about self identity, growth, and being a lesbian,” to be a fan of the artist often feels like trading secrets with a close personal friend. It is a sentiment that rings all the more true upon delving into her debut album, Blood Bunny. Grappling with coming-of-age at the axis of empathic pop and euphoric pop-punk, Blood Bunny sees moriondo taking yet another impressive step forward.

Godford

Little is known about Godford beyond what can be garnered from a handful of interviews online and his succinct Spotify bio, and chances are he’s happier that way. The anonymous DJ and producer aims to make non-binary music that exists outside of the confines of genres, overly-simplified classifications, and even himself. What is important are the emotions his music hold and what his listeners take away. Fusing romanticism and rave in his debut album, Godford: Non Binary Place, the anonymous artist does just that. He provides a space that exists simultaneously everywhere and nowhere, like an ephemeral night spent out on the dancefloor with a stranger or close friend.

Joy Oladokun

Joy Oladokun is at the core of her music. It may at first glance appear to be a painfully obvious statement, but as her sincere songwriting seeps into every corner of your soul, it is a notion that becomes undeniable. In her major label debut, in defense of my own happiness, Oladokun writes with an unabashed authenticity, never turning a blind eye to the world around her. These shared reflections and recollections of life are often heartbreaking and uplifting in the same breath, but in their candidness, we can begin to piece together what it means to be human, imperfections and all.  

Allison Ponthier

Allison Ponthier may only have a handful of singles to her name, but her unmatched potential is clear as day. Raised in the outskirts of Dallas, Texas, Ponthier’s moving songwriting and emphatic vocal prowess speak to her country roots. Pair that country sensibility with some of the most pristine pop songwriting we have heard in quite some time, and you begin to understand just how exciting Ponthier is as a rising artist. With only two singles to date, there’s not much else we can say beyond do yourself a favor and play “Cowboy” on repeat.

Rina Sawayama

It feels like no hyperbole to call Rina Sawayama an inevitable pop icon. First garnering critical acclaim with singles like “Cherry” and her 2017 debut EP RINA, the Japanese-British singer-songwriter staked her name on her immaculate ability to capture all the glamour and larger-than-life appeal of early ‘00s pop. Building on what was a nostalgic yet forward-thinking vision, Sawayama returned with her 2020 eponymous full-length debut. From nu-metal, club beats, to veritable pop anthems, SAWAYAMA emerged as a genre-defying showcase of an avant-garde pop star.

Arlo Parks

Listening to Arlo Parks’ music is akin to sipping on a hot cup of chamomile tea as you watch the world slowly pass by your living room window. It is a testament to the British poet and singer-songwriter’s subtle yet beautiful way with words, the way in which each lyric serves as a glance into a tightly-held memory or passing observation. These poetic musings come to life in her debut album, Collapsed In Sunbeams, which layers lyrical revelations over some of the most tender R&B of recent memory. Parks’ is more than a must-listen; she feels like the birth of a new wave.

Claud

Claud has spent the past few years making a name for themselves in the indie pop world, and the culmination of it all arrives in their debut album, Super Monster. The acclaimed album sees Claud reckoning with coming-of-age and love with an irresistible charm. Pair that with a penchant for grounded, affective songwriting and infectious, dreamlike melodies and you have one of the best debuts of recent memory. In case you somehow need any further convincing that Claud is one to watch, Super Monster marks the debut release from Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records.

UMI

Equally as inspired by R&B and neo-soul as she is by her generation’s penchant for blurring genre lines, UMI and her music exist as a form of spiritual healing. Half-Black and half-Japanese, her work explores everything from identity to self-introspection, such as on the aptly-titled Introspection. It is a fondness for self-exploration that UMI delves headfirst into on her 2019 EP Love Language, a sublime blend of identity struggles, love, and anime that tackles the issue of always feeling like an other, never Black or Japanese enough.

Joesef

Sad boy summer. It’s the simplest way to being explaining Joesef’s serene albeit somber sound. Emerging out of Glasgow, the quickly rising star often wears his still bleeding heart on his sleeve, even when the underlying sonics seem to be moving onto greener pastures. It is an exquisite balancing act that comes to life on his 2020 EP, Does It Make You Feel Good?. Blending elements of soft-spoken R&B, jazz, and ethereal pop, Joesef sets himself apart as an artist whose influences and appeal know no bounds.

Serena Isioma

At the top of the year, we named Serena Isioma one of our top artists to watch in the year to come, and for good reason. The self-proclaimed “nonbinary rock star” experienced a breakout moment with “Sensitive,” a track that is difficult to perfectly encapsulate but think along the lines of fusing modern-day R&B and woozy indie-pop with reckless abandon, and you’ll be about halfway there. It was an impressive standout track that was only buoyed by a pair of EPs, Sensitive and The Leo Sun Sets, in 2020, officially cementing Isioma as an artist like no other.

Khai Dreams

Khai Dreams’ music is effortlessly easygoing. With its straightforward guitar lines and understated production, every track from the Pacific Northwest singer-songwriter flows out as naturally as breathing. Maybe it’s that laid-back approach that begins to explains Khai Dreams’ universal appeal and millions of monthly listeners, despite releasing most of his music independently. A hallmark of the DIY generation and its massive homebrewed potential, it would be a crying shame if you didn’t let Khai Dream’s serene meditations transport you somewhere far from here.

Frances Forever

Like much of their Gen Z cohorts, Frances Forever’s exponential rise was not the result of a well-executed marketing plan but by the pure chance of a single song finding a home online. The song in question, “Space Girl,” was originally part of NPR’s Tiny Desk Content before soon blowing up on TikTok, and it’s not hard to see why. Short, sweet, and to the point, “Space Girl” is a saccharine love letter to that bubbly feeling of floating on cloud nine. Now signed to Mom+Pop and with their debut EP, Paranoia Party, due out later this year, this is the perfect time to get familiar with Frances Forever.

Dorian Electra

Unapologetically playing with gender norms and stereotypes while seeing just how far they can push the limits of pop, Dorian Electra has long maintained a cult following in the world of experimental, highly addictive hyperpop. And it’s not hard to see why. Having collaborated with the likes of Charli XCX, 100 gecs, Village People, Pussy Riot, Rebecca Black, and more, Electra’s music ranges from off-the-rails hyperpop to introspective pop slow burns. All of this and more reaches a fever pitch in their 2020 album My Agenda, a devious showcasing of one of pop’s most explosive figures.

MAY-A

Maya Cumming, professionally known as MAY-A, is no stranger to the hustle it takes to make it in the music industry. The Australian artist got her start entering numerous singing competitions in her hometown of Byron Bay and started busking on the streets at the tender age of 11. Now, she has a breakout single under her belt in the form of “Apricots,” an anthemic indie-pop ode to queer love. And since that breakout moment, MAY-A has continued to release impressive single after single—the latest being the collaborative “American Dream.”

[stumacherstan]

Ares x goddess!Reader Part Two:

past!thanatos x reader

As you looked down at the casualties of your city, you sign yet again. “I suppose I haven’t been the best partner these past decades.” You uttered to yourself as you dramatically sat down on the temple, your legs dangling.

Your skin raises as a familiar coldness enshrouds you. Your body’s discards it and goes back to its regular temperature. You smile gently but don’t turn back. “Hello Thanatos.”

“Hello (Y/N), it’s been awhile.” The God of Death looked around. “I certainly didn’t expect the city of refugees to look like this,” he glanced at you, “nor expected it to survive.”

“I have to have tricks up my sleeve every now and then. You know me.”

“Knew.”

You didn’t dare flinch at the words. “Well, thank you for doing your job I suppose.”

“It’s the same old thing. Somebody has to.” Thanatos breathed in as he felt each soul descending with his presence. He had other places to be like always, but he did quite miss his time with you.

“It’s quite ironic isn’t it (Y/N)?”

“Don’t you dare finish whatever you are going to say.” You internally seethed as the hypocrisy that you were slowly becoming aware to.

“I’ll say this, I miss you.” He came up behind and his hand lingered on your shoulder. Thanatos felt a tinge of pain hit his heart when you shrugged him off. “However, I know you’re very much in love with him despite this difficult time. Don’t make the same mistake I made with you.”

You winced at those words. You couldn’t handle losing Ares too. He made you feel a different type of way than anyone else ever could. He had a part of you and you him. You looked over your people and saw them handling themselves.

You needn’t hold their hand for everything. You were a Goddess, not a babysitter. For the most part they took care of themselves so why were you wasting your time with them instead of your supposed husband?

The intense feeling of guilt pooled at your stomach. Your dear Ares must feel so neglected. You rubbed your temples again and sighed loudly.

“Thank y-“ As you turned, your old dear friend was already gone. He had done his job and left. “Well, time to find my beloved.”

________________________________

You stood before your grand shared home. People see Ares as prideful and arrogant, so you would assume the house would be large and grand. On the outside it was with its beautiful marble stature and complimenting staircase to the door.

Yet it was just a mini mansion you two enjoyed. Not as big as the other Gods homes. Ares likes a smaller space that has enough for his foolery. You smiled softly as you thought about how he crashed through the second story trying to prove a pint.

You entered and took a big whiff comfort and warmth. ‘It’s been awhile hasn’t it,’ you smiled bitterly to yourself. You looked around and giggled at the paintings, sculptures, and pictures of you and your dear husband. Such happy simple times. When did you become distant?

Your hands clasped each other’s tightly. You knew he was home, and you knew he knew you were home. “My sweet husband, your darling wife is home!” You called out the old saying you would say every time you came home. When he would come home he would say, “My darling wife, your sweet husband is home!”

Ares was still upset about the whole ordeal, but he would never deny you of your kiss of life and love and tight hug or protection. Or so you would call it. Thinking about it made his heart flutter. He finally walked down to you, and felt all those emotions from he first saw your beauty.

His breath got caught in his throat, his stomach was doing cartwheels, he’s sure he was having heart palpitations. Oh dear, you took his breath away. You were as gorgeous as the first day he met you. You didn’t change one bit.

Ares glided to you and hugged you tightly, dipping you like in those cheesy romcom moments and kissed you passionately. He carefully stood you both whilst your lips danced together. He didn’t want to pull away, but you did first; almost making him whine. Then he saw your eyes that held the sky and universe together.

“As beautiful as ever.” Ares breathed out.

You flushed slightly, “you’re just as charming.”

You couldn’t help but feel giddy being in his arms. His beautiful sunset orange eyes held so much passion and love for you that you felt exposed under it. A certain emotional vulnerability was being shown and felt that you hadn’t experienced in awhile. You did miss your husband during those years after all.

You laid your head on your chest. “I’ve missed you so much, even if I didn’t show it. Carry me to the couch? Somebody wore me out today.”

Ares chuckled as he lifted you with ease just like your wedding day. “Oh did they? Do I have to go and fight them for challenging my lady?”

You playfully swooned at his words and your fingers danced on his face. “You would do that for me?” You batted your eyes up at him innocently.

He carefully sat himself on the couch and adjusted your position to be gently laying on him. “I would do anything for my beautiful wife, anyone who dares strife with her shall have a problem with me.” He started twirling/twisting your hair with his fingers.

“How romantic!” You cheerfully giggled. You let yourself get comfortable and sighed on his chest. “However my dear, you need not strife with such a person. I handled it, you know me.”

“Ah of course of course, you are more than capable of taking yourself. I know.” Ares looked down at you with love. The feelings of bitterness and anger disappeared as you two chatted as if nothing happened. As if he wasn’t the one to fight you.

As looked upon him with the same passion in your orbs, you knew that at some point the discussion had to be talked about. You gently rested your hand on his chest as you cuddled deeper into his arms. “Ares...”

“(Y/N)...”

As stubborn as ever. “I-“ you shoved your face into his chest. “I’m sorry.” Your voice was muffled.

“What was that?”

“I’m. Sorry.”

“A little louder.”

“I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“Ares...”

“What?”

“I’m sorry for, being an uncaring spouse. I didn’t realize how long the time had passed, and I didn’t consider your feelings. I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize how much we had drifted. I still really and care for you, please remember that. And i should’ve-“

Ares shushed you and gently patted your back. “You and your communication skills.”

Although you had no room to pout, you still did. “You’re not the one to talk.”

“Maybe so, but even then. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“We had our fight. Now we are here together.”

“I suppose so.”

“Should we go to my mother for counseling?”

You snorted loudly. “Please.”

“You’re right. We can work it out together.”

Comfortable silence ensued. The both of you reminiscing of old times, how it use to be. When he was your mighty God of War and you were his healing Goddess of Peace. Two peas in pod with delightful season of chaos.

“I really do love you. I promise, from here on out, we will spend more time together.”

“That’s all I ever wanted. I’ve missed you so much.” His arms squeezed you lightly and he buried his nose into your hair. “I’ve missed this.”

You choked back tears. “Oh by the stars, I love you so much.”

Ares hushed you with a soft kiss sealing your fate with him once more.

Two beautiful powerful Gods in love.

[bloodywankers]

TW! Mentions of blood! Yandere Themes! Gaslighting! Mentions of Suicide! Non-Consensual Touching!  

Every bit of the female's body felt like it was being pulled apart; she tried to scream but her voice wouldn’t come out as red filled her plain of sight, blood from her wounds gushing out of her.

Black dots filling her vision as eventually a white light filled her line of vision. All the weight on her body felt like it had disappeared and instead, the calming feeling of floating aimlessly ensuing itself.

She could neither feel nor see anything that wasn’t the unfamiliar stark black clouding her vision.

She tried to move—she really did—but she had lost all control over her body as if something that used to come so naturally suddenly became an unreachable feat.

That’s when a sudden weight was put on her chest, her breaths started to get shallower and shallower and her eyes refused to open. She was gasping for breath, trying her best to regain control over her body.

Strangely enough, no matter how long she spent in that state she wasn’t dying, everything felt like torture until she slowly started to regain her senses, feeling something soft under her. When she finally managed to open her eyes she was welcomed by an unfamiliar environment.

Soon enough voices she had never before pooled around her. Shouting uncontrollably as they ran around. She was confused, to say the least.

Eventually, everything calmed down and an older looking man approached her.

“If you will allow me, your majesty.” He said, before taking her first into his hand, putting two fingers on it to sense her pulse.

“Your majesty? What sort of joke is this?! Who are you people?! I-I was-.”

“She doesn’t remember! We should inform the emperor immediately!” Announced someone from the crowd surrounding her.

And before she could do anything, the room was sent into chaos again. The doctor too hastily finished his checkup before exiting.

This left the female in a confused frenzy once more. ‘What is this place?’ She touched her side, but instead of an injury there, she was met with one on her abdomen. ‘But I was bleeding from the side before-!’

“Please don’t worry your grace, we’re calling his highness emperor!”

‘The emperor?’

“Why do you keep calling me ‘her highness’?! I’m not her, I’m--!”

“His majesty has arrived!” Announced another voice as they now entered with yet another unfamiliar man.

He was strikingly tall, taller and larger than anyone else in that room at least, and had a strange appearance. The man in front of her had white hair and bright amber eyes. He was also adorned in a suit, medals decorating his chest area and a silk red sash leading from his right shoulder tied around him.

Leave us, he ordered all the other people in the room before approaching her. All those people that previously seemed uncontrollable left in the blink of an eye, not daring to disobey.

“You finally awake, [name]...” He gently wrapped his arms around her figure, pulling her into an embrace.

“Who are you?” The anxious female asked but instead of an answer, she was welcomed by a sweet kiss on the lips. But as soon as their lips parted she tried her best to use her somewhat frail-looking arms to push him back and protest.

“Please I- I think there’s been some sort of mistake! I’m not [name] I’m--.” But before she could continue she was shushed by that strange man once more.

“You pulled such a dangerous stunt just a few days ago and now you want to pretend you don’t know me? Of course, you’re [name], what kind of husband would I be if I couldn’t even recognize my own wife?.” He chuckled to lighten the mood.

“No, you don’t understand! I’m not actually [name] I just woke up in this body!”

The man once again ignored her, this time peppering kisses all over her neck instead.

In truth, he knew she wasn’t [name], well, at least not the soul inside that body. He knew this well, he had witnessed as his wife died right in front of his eyes, by her own hands after all. He had stood witness as the best priests and mages gathered around her to heal her body as well.

He was also the one that agreed to this, to have a stranger occupy his beloved’s body but that didn’t matter. He could look past it, as long as the warmth from her touch was still the same.

She seemed so much more malleable this way too, soo confused and scared, like a little rabbit, It’ll be much easier to keep her in her place and to prevent accidents like last time, he reckoned.

[wolffnichols]

KJ's Buddie Fic Masterpost

Complete:

Texts Between Dumbass & Dumbasser (+Friends)-

[From: TK] FINE then I'll just have to create my own podcast talking about two people named Puck and Freddie who are best friends who work together and are secretly in love with each other but neither of them know it

[From: Buck] you wouldn't dare

[From: TK] try me bitch

______

OR

After the Wildfires, Buck and TK begin to text each other and chaos ensues. Which largely consists of TK trying to convince Buck that he and Eddie need to get together already for everyone's sakes.

10/10 Chapters. Buck and TK friendship. Buddie and Tarlos. Ensamble characters.

can you keep me close (can you love me most)-

Set post 4x14. Buck is having a nice movie night with his Diaz boys that turns into Eddie falling asleep on Buck's lap, stirring feelings.

One-shot. Prompt filled. Buckley family feels. Getting together.

WIP's That I Want To Continue To Work On:

Domestic Illusion-

Eddie had an idea. An absolutely terrible, ridiculous idea that he'd never in a million years would allow himself to even think about, let alone say it out loud. 

And yet.

----

Post S4 Finale. A few months after what happened to Eddie, Buck is still staying at the Diaz household when Eddie's parents come to town for a visit. In a moment of overwhelmed weakness, he blurts out about his change in the will which makes them obviously upset. Worried about his grandparents' reactions, Christopher gives his dad a very... interesting idea about Buck and Eddie.

It couldn't work. Could it?

Chapters: 2/?.

i don't want to talk about it (tell me where it hurts)-

The older man looked back up toward Eddie. "You seem more annoyed than usual. Why is that?"

"Because," Eddie began to say, drawing out the word in exasperation, "I already told you. I'm worried about Buck."

---

Post 4x14. Eddie is going to mandatory therapy. However, instead on focusing on his own issues he can't help but be worried about Buck. When Frank makes a suggestion, it leads to some truths to finally come out as Buck and Eddie begin to heal together.

Recovery fic. Therapy fic. Chapters: 1/3.

A Family Is What You Make It-

Set after 4x10. Struggling with the changes in his relationship with his Diaz boys as Eddie gets more serious with Ana, Buck gets news that changes his life forever.

Slowburn. Family fic. Buddie. Tarlos.

WIP's That Are Discontinued For The Time Being

the universe is screaming at you (but you refuse to listen)-

Everyone in Eddie's life seems to believe in the Universe™. Especially his best friend and son. But Eddie? Eddie has issues with a capital "I" when it comes to the universe. But he's okay with keeping that (mostly) to himself. Especially when it comes to his son, Christopher.

Things start to change, however, when Chris mentions a certain something about the universe that has to do with Eddie and his best friend, Buck.

Set some time after "Breaking Point". Chapters: 1/?.

you can ebb and I can flow (and we'll grow as we go)

This was a terrible idea. 

An absurdly idiotic terrible idea. 

Yet in retrospect, Eddie really should've seen this coming. 

----

A classic What If Buck and Eddie hooked up after 2x01 and secretly continues to do so every now and then as their friendship continues to grow more and more into a unshakable bond, even as their pesky feelings for each other grow as well.

Follows canon events but with my own twist. Chapters: 1/?

let go and unleash all the feelings-

Buck wanted to so desperately close his eyes and wake up from this hellish nightmare and go to work and see the mirth in his best friend's eyes as he found something to tease Buck about.

But no, this was very real, since the way Eddie was looking at him pierced through his very bones and soul.

----

Yet another angsty post 4x13 fic. You're welcome.

Songfic based off "The Other Side" by Ruelle. Chapters: 1/?.

Series:

Tales Between Dumbass & Dumbasser + Friends-

Which consists of:

Texts Between Dumbass & Dumbasser (+Friends) - as previously mentioned

The Adventures of Puck and Freddie-

Spinoff of Texts Between Dumbass and Dumbasser where to help TK feel better Buck and Eddie make a podcast to dramatically tell the story of two idiot best friend firefighters who fell in love.

Crack. Complete crack.

Chats Between Dumbass Firefam and Dumbasser Firefam-

Sequel Texts Between Dumbass and Dumbasser (+ Friends). After TK accidentally spills the beans that Buck and Eddie may or not be together, the new couple has to deal with the ramifications of keeping it from them.

Enter: more groupchat shenanigans, more characters, and just absolutely more chaos in general.

[obeiii-mee]

I am not sure if the request is open- fanfic or headcanon an angst of mc sacrificing her life to return Lilith to them and lilth come back so she told she's only here becuz the mc bought her back how would the demon brother cope with it- it is okay if you don’t want to write it :)

I haven’t written any angst yet on this blog so I don’t really know how this is going to turn out. I don’t know how MC would be able to bring Lilith back so I’ll just figure something out as I write along. It’s hard for me to write the brothers suffering help me-

I want to make it clear that I don’t know if it’s possible for a human to do something like this but for the sake of this request let’s roll with it. Lilith is back and MC sacrificed their life for that to happen. I really don’t think any of the brothers would react well because Lilith and MC aren’t the same person. They love both of them very much but they wouldn’t be able to make one suffer just to bring the other back. All the HCs are related, happening on the same day, in the same way. Lilith reuniting with her brothers one by one starting with Lucifer. Hopefully this makes sense but I don’t really have my way around words so——

This is obviously too long so I won’t be able to write for all the brothers in one post. Instead I’ll write about Lucifer, Mammon and Levi in this one and then continue this on another post. So this is part one. Thanks for the request!

Pt. 2

————————————-

The Brothers Reacting to MC sacrificing themselves to bring Lilith back, Part 1:

Lucifer:

-OK, realistically speaking, it should have been impossible for Lilith to be brought back. She lived as a human and died, that’s it, you can’t reverse something like that. But you really didn’t want to give up, seeing the way the brothers acted whenever the topic of their sister was brought up was too much for you to handle. So you kept looking and searching for spells, magical objects, anything you could get your hands on that could help. You even spoke to Solomon about it in secret, away from Lucifer’s prying ears. You were too determined to be swayed away from the task.

-Of course, after a long time of searching, you found exactly what you were looking for. And of course in order for Lilith to be brought back to life once again, you would have to give something in return; your life. It was a hard pillow to swallow but after hours of arguing back and forth with yourself, you decided to do it. For the sake of all the brothers and their happiness. It wasn’t the quickest of deaths but it definitely didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should have. And once your soul had officially been diminished, Lilith was given a tangible body and teleported to DevilDom. That also meant that she was completely aware as to why or how and she wasn’t exactly happy. It was an indescribable moment full of misery and despair for her. She was back and her descendant payed the price for it.

-Lucifer didn’t really believe his eyes when he first saw his long dead sister on their couch, supposedly staring at nothing. He first assumed that he was daydreaming which seemed like the most rational option at that point. Due to all the paperwork he had to finish by the end of the week, he had been rather sleep deprived and it made sense that he started hallucinating. After all, Lilith was on his mind quite a lot. But then she noticed him and she sprung into his arms before he could even get a word out. It always used to be like this. Her running straight into him just to show her affection back when they were both angels and happy.

-She was real, not a dream or a fiction of his mind and he didn’t know how to feel about it. He was torn, as if all of his emotions were threatening to come out at once and he didn’t know how to handle that. Lucifer uses logic for every situation he finds himself in, but this time, it was thrown out the window. It didn’t matter why or how or when. All that mattered was that she was here and he got to see her again after all these millenniums of dealing with the slow torture of having to carry the burden of her death by himself. He was ready to go get his brothers, the rest of his dysfunctional family and obviously MC had to come along too, them being just as important to him as everyone else. But Lilith grabbed his sleeve.

-His sister told him everything. Ranging from MC’s sacrifice to her waking up in DevilDom and to her wandering around until she found the House of Lamentation. His brain stopped working the moment the words registered with him as Lilith rambled on with her story. He almost wanted to ask her if she was joking but he knew her better than that; his little sister was never one to joke about something so grave.

-Lucifer always knew that their exchange student was a bit of a nutcase and definitely special in their own way. Considering how often they went to the extremes and overdid every little thing that had to be done. But this...this was something entirely different. They gave up their own life for them, for Lilith to come back and they did this because of him and his siblings. The second time MC had been ripped away from him, without even the satisfaction of saying goodbye because they were way too good for his family and for DevilDom in general. He wanted to scream and cry and curse his father even more so than usual for this cruel turn of events. Any more of this emotional suffering, and his heart may as well stop pulsating. MC died and he couldn’t help them in any way, he couldn’t stop them from making this mistake because he had just gotten over Lilith’s death and had begun to heal from the trauma. And now you left him as well.

-Lilith forced him to sit down and let him deal with his internal breakdown while she thought this out. At this rate her brother was either going to wind up in a blind rage and pop out another Satan or drown himself in depression and anguish. But Lucifer, despite the range of emotions conflicting him on the inside, tried remaining as calm on the outside as possible. Lilith was right there. He shouldn’t cry in front of his sister, he never did. He was always supposed to be the role model, be the strong protector that she could lean on if she needed help. With a single tear running down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away, he got up, abruptly much to the protest of Lilith and began walking toward the door.

-He had to tell his brothers. The news would break every single one of them and he couldn’t do anything about it. He had the responsibility of going to every single one of them and privately discuss this because god knows what chaos would ensue if they were all in a room together with Lilith. He would have to talk to Lord Diavolo, get another exchange student down there but...not yet. Not yet. He had to tell his siblings first. His younger brothers that he swore he would protect with all of his being since he couldn’t do so with Lilith. And now he had to go and break their hearts while his own lay shattered on the floor.

-But first, he was going to go and cry by himself, locked away in his room, so he can regain the power of speaking with everyone properly. And he would just have to accept the fact that MC will forever be stuck in his heart, with no means of getting them out.

-Who would have thought a human like you would stir up these feelings within me?

Mammon:

-It was his fault. It was always his fucking fault. Whenever something bad happened to you, the first person Mammon blamed was himself. How could he not? He was in charge of you after all, he was supposed to be your protector and guardian during your stay in DevilDom. Honestly, at first, he didn’t really care about you. Your whole existence and the fact he had to babysit you was irritating more than anything. But it didn’t take long for him to get attached to you, he fell and he fell fast. Soon enough, he was about ready to just dedicate his entire being to you (and money, we don’t forget about money). You were his human. So how did he fuck it all up?

-That day, he was supposed to be with you. At least one of the brothers had to be with you at all times, per Lucifer’s orders, to make sure you could circulate DevilDom without getting killed. He had one job to do. Follow you around until you got bored and wanted to go home. Then, since you were left with the rest of his brothers, he could go do his thing. But a modelling gig had come up rather abruptly and he had to go get ready for a few shots. Mammon, being a simp great companion and actually a lot smarter than people give him credit for, was really hesitant at first. He didn’t really want to leave you alone and offered to turn the job down. He would never admit it, but his human was way more important.

-However, you insisted it was fine, encouraging him to go and implying you would be alright for an hour by yourself. Besides, you had something to check and would probably be home in no time. He couldn’t really argue back so he reluctantly agreed and left you to your own devices.

-And that was the last time he saw you.

-After his shoot, he couldn’t find you anywhere. Not at home, not in Majolish, not at any of your favourite places. He wasn’t worried at first because he thought you were with one of his siblings. But half an hour later, he was getting panicky and pushing himself over the edge. Sitting alone in his room, pondering on where the fuck you could have been while also debating as to where he should look for you first. He really didn’t want to bring the subject up with Lucifer because he feared his reaction and the possibility he would forbid Mammon from helping him search for you.

-And just as he had conjured up a master plan, Lucifer walked in. With Lilith behind him like it was regular Tuesday night. Her presence wasn’t acknowledged for a few moments, he was too concentrated on Lucifer’s face, scared out of his wits that he found out you were missing and now he was about to face punishment. His older brother didn’t look angry though. Grave and sad, but mostly solemn, like he was holding back. Then it clicked that his loving sister, the one that was supposed to be dead, was standing next to him. Mammon jumped. Physically jumped backwards and fell off the bed in surprise. If there was one thing he disliked more than giving his money away, it would be thinking about Lilith. His memories with her brought him nothing but tears.

-Lilith smiled, in an honest and slightly upset way, seeing her brother’s antics after such a long time made her feel a sort of nolstagia she didn’t think she would miss. Mammon was still staring at her like he’s just been told he had to give all of his money to the witches. He kept switching his gaze between her and Lucifer, as if confirming with him that she wasn’t a ghost while he kept his eyes wide in horror.

-“Stop that Mammon. Your gawking is giving me a headache.” Lucifer snapped, more ferociously than usual which was odd. Mammon thought he looked more tense, rigid but he didn’t push the subject. He wanted to get up, walk up to Lilith and touch her, see if she was real. And then he wanted to hug the living daylights out of her. But he froze on the spot until Lucifer finally managed to spit out that Lilith was, indeed, back. And then Mammon sprinted straight into her arms like a fired bullet, not planning on letting go for a long time. His sister just smiled again, happy to see her needier brother again and to know that despite being a demon now, he hadn’t changed all that much. That moment was sort of euphoric and he grasped onto it for as long as he could.

-Then came the devastating news that would hit Mammon in the gut harder than a moving truck.

-MC was gone. Forever. Forever, forever. Never to be seen again. Gave her entire being up for Lilith to come back to life. Lucifer told him but his eyes and voice seemed to be elsewhere, as if he struggled to show emotion in his voice during his monologue because he was directing those emotions somewhere else. Lilith tightened her grip on him, preparing for a meltdown, or even an angry fit, anything could be expected from this brother of hers in particular.

-Oh there was a meltdown alright. His reaction was immediate. He started shaking, uncontrollable trembling that he couldn’t stop no matter how hard he tried to and his vision blurred and swayed as if he was drunk and his nails were digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. Everything felt unstable and he couldn’t take MC’s face out of his mind, like their face was printed onto his brain for keeping purposes. His throat dried up and besides the stream of tears rolling down his face, Mammon started sweating. In the span of a minute, he’s gotten too immeasurably hot and now he was sweating even though he lives in hell and should already be used to this kind of warmth.

-He became unresponsive after that. Not even Lucifer could get through to him. He just sat there, like a broken shell. His brother was speaking to him about things, replacements and a bunch of shit he wasn’t interested in. He didn’t want to hear any of it. He just wanted his human back, even if it meant he had to serve the witches for the rest of eternity. After a while, both of them left. Lucifer giving his shoulder a squeeze, something he hasn’t done in forever but the gesture was somehow comforting. It showed that his older brother was suffering too and he could tell from his voice alone. Lilith hugged him one more time and pecked his cheek and he wanted to grab her hand and keep her there because even though she literally just came back, he needed his sister to stay with him as he went through this. Mammon let them leave.

-He’s more closed off than before. He still steals shit all the time but it’s out of pity for himself more than anything else. He also took a bunch of your belongings too, something to remind him that you existed once. That you had a presence and changed his life and his brothers for the better. Mammon breaks down at the most random of times whenever he’s reminded of you and these sometimes take hours before he finally calms down. Somehow Lilith is the only one who happens to have an effect on him. Her presence at least helps. But not by a lot.

-Stupid human, letting him be an idiot and allowing him to leave you all by yourself. Stupid Mammon for being such a moron and letting the one person that understood him beyond the surface of the Avatar of Greed and actually associated him with being more than just scum, die. Stupid MC, leaving him all alone...

-He just hopes you’ve made it to the Celestial Realm...but seeing as you died in DevilDom, he doubts it.

Levi:

-Levi was sort of used to you showing up late to his gaming sessions. He didn’t blame you really, his brothers were sure to try and grab as much of your attention as possible so it makes sense you forgot about little old him. Except you never did. Sure you came by later than planned, but you always came no matter what so maybe he wasn’t giving you enough credit.

-Maybe he should have tried calling you, or even just texting you to see what you were up to. That’s why he had a D.D.D to begin with after all. But he didn’t. He assumed you were with Mammon or reading with Satan somewhere. Maybe sleeping with the twins. Levi reasoned with himself that you were probably fine and just got caught up on something on the way home. Yet the pit in his stomach kept growing with every minute that passed and before he knew it, he was pacing around the room.

-He heard Mammon having a breakdown from somewhere, and at first, he really had an overwhelming urge to check in with him and see what the problem was. Maybe something happened to MC. Maybe something happened to his older brother. Levi has a dislike for him sure, but he still wouldn’t want Mammon to suffer, no matter how much money he owes him. He didn’t leave his room. He assumed he was crying because the witches were at it again or maybe because he lost all of his money at the casino or even because Lucifer was punishing him for something.

-Then, a knock came on his door and he jumped to his feet faster than he had ever done so before. Password and all long forgotten, he opened the door to his room expecting to see you. Instead, he came face to face with his oldest brother, which disappointed him beyond measure. He was about to mumble something about MC and whether he had seen them at all that day but something stopped him. Behind Lucifer, just barely visible since she is slightly shorter than him, was Lilith. His reaction was definitely interesting.

-“Oh-I....holy crap, this is just like that anime where the protagonist’s dead sister comes back as ghost and starts talking to him. Oh shit, am I going insane or are ghosts are actually real? And not Lilith, Lilith doesn’t deserve to live the rest of eternity as a ghost-“

-“Shut up Levi.”

-“Sorry.”

-Lilith slowly walked out him and hugged him, which debunked Levi’s theory. She wasn’t a ghost! She was real and she was hugging him! He missed her so much, he was actually still doubting the fact that she was back. Levi tried pushing her out of his mind so many times because it hurt too much to think of her and now she was right here in front of him.

-The moment didn’t last though. Lucifer had to interrupt. He himself was shaky, still processing a bunch of things and on top of all that, he had to break his brothers’ spirits. The words came out eventually and Levi’s reaction was a lot slower than Mammon’s. He couldn’t process it as well and it felt like his life was put on pause, like in one of his video games. Lilith was holding him, as a sort of support system but Levi just kind of drifted in another world.

-Sure, he missed his sister dearly. But that didn’t mean he wanted MC’s life to be exchanged with hers. It was such an unfair choice really, making him choose between two people he absolutely adores. Except he didn’t make that choice. You did. And it changed everything.

-Ever since you left, he hasn’t had as much energy in playing games or even watching anime. He can’t find himself sitting for too long, he always has be to pacing and chewing on his fingernails. Everything seemed pointless without you here. Nothing was right. Watching anime by himself wasn’t as enjoyable even though he used to do it for a long time before you even came to DevilDom. He doesn’t have the energy to participate in Ruri chan contests either, though sometimes he makes an effort to. In a way to satisfy himself knowing that you didn’t die for him to mope around all depressed.

-He just sort of lays in his room all day, speaking with Henry 2.0 occasionally or just trying to relax in his bathtub. But it never works. Your voice keeps ringing in his ears. He misses you terribly and his sleeping schedule probably worsened since he can’t sleep now at all, thanks to all the nightmares he gets every night, featuring you of course.

-Out of all the things the world could have taken away from him, it just had to be his Henry didn’t it? Maybe he was just cursed from ever finding a true friend like you....

Hey, yeah I’m not dead. Just been working on this for a while now. This is obviously too long already so I can’t write for all the brothers at once. I’ll do a second post continuing this ask soon but for now I’ve written and edited this for the eldest three. Sorry it took so long and that I only managed three of the brothers. I’m still working on the following four. Thanks for reading! Part 2 should done soon!

[oftenderweapons]

Steamy Waters — Taehyung

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Lace)

Wordcount: 7.6k ( mostly edited✌️)

Genre: smut, pwp, fluff, slightest angst, established relationship, idol!AU

Rating: 18+ (As usual, I know)

Hello baby bears! Welcome to Taehyung’s Steamy Waters. I must admit this episode is going to be a lot steamier than planned, but I cannot lament. Recently we celebrated Taehyung’s birthday, so I thought I could add a little extra as a late celebration.

There’s not much plot, honestly. Tae and Lace are bathing together in true Kim Taehyung fashion when the intrusive presence of mirrors on every bathroom wall makes it hard not to stare at each other. And when wandering hands — and wandering feet... and wandering mouths — start wandering too much the temperature in the room becomes too hot to handle. Chaos ensues. Especially when Taehyung is... at her service.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. Wine drinking. Humping, bathtub sex, unprotected sex within an established relationship (don’t make me tell again that you and your partner(s) should be clean before going condomless); massage, slight footjob; oral fixation (not only in terms of oral sex, both male and female receiving btw) but also foot worship, breast worship, body shot, face riding (male receiving), cum eating; spanking, one (1) pussy spank; masturbation (female receiving), also anal fingering (external stimulation only); maid!Taehyung, switch!Taehyung, hard dom!Taehyung, big dick!Taehyung, soft domme!reader, very sub!reader; hair pulling/grabbing; choking kink, degradation kink, overstimulation, squirting, sensory blackout. Taehyung uses a safeword (yellow); did I mention that MIRRORS ARE BACK BUT THIS TIME IT’S WORSE? And if you didn’t guess VOYEURISM 24 out of 10. Also, the softest aftercare and mentions of sleeping pills to help reader relax after... ahem... all of those. Things. In the trigger warnings.

In case you need my masterlist, here it is :)

Enjoy! 💜✨

A jazz piece was playing on the modern gramophone in a corner of the bathroom, somewhere far from the tub, where you and Taehyung would most likely make a splash and quite surely ruin the device.

Taehyung was laying at the opposite side of the tub, head thrown back as your foot rubbed his thigh.

You were pretty chill yourself, arms pressed against the edge of the tub, keeping you from relaxing too much and going under.

“Baths are magic.” You murmured, your toes meeting his hip before sliding back down again.

He hummed in confirmation. “The only problem is with washing one’s hair. It’s so uncomfortable.” He caught your foot underwater, his thumbs digging in the few knots you felt there. If the bath was magic, his hands were miraculous.

You felt your whole body melt and slide half an inch lower, your self restraint too weak to stop you from moaning.

Taehyung smiled fondly and sensuously. “You like it there?” He asked, his fingers moving to the heel, pressing against all those spots he knew from his acupressure appointments.

Your whole leg went insensitive in a very pleasing way. “Yes, you like it, dove.” He said, grinning and moving to your calf, specifically to the spot where the muscle met the bone near your ankle.

“Don’t want your ankles to swell.” He said, pushing your foot into slow, articulate circles.

Your soul definitively abandoned your body.

“We’ll put ice packs on these bad girls as soon as you’re out of the tub.” He said.

“It’s not that bad.” You said, just as he drew two parallel lines with his thumbs digging into your muscle reaching the back of your knee.

You had to grip the rim of tub to keep yourself from end up with your head underwater.

“It is that bad.” He said, rubbing small circles and making sure that all the exertion was magically sucked out of you. “No need to lie to me.” He said, looking at you with his dark eyes, his hair all curled up due to the steam coming from the water and filling the air. His own foot ran down your inner thigh, the sole of his foot ghosting over your pelvis.

There were too many reflective surfaces all over the bathroom.

Angles of him appeared everywhere. Specifically when he lifted your leg and placed a kiss to the upper arch of your foot.

“Shall I move to the other leg?” He asked, lowering your calf back in the water.

You nodded, trying to scoot your hips forward, against his heel.

“Feeling needy?” He asked, as his fingers repeated the procedure he had performed before on your other leg.

“So much.” You replied, using your freshly rejuvenated foot to tease his erection. His massage had activated nerve endings that had probably never really been there before he touched you.

“Let’s finish this leg then,” he said, as he kept pushing your ankle in wide circles.

“Tae,” you called, just as he moaned, your toes tickling his belly while the ball of your foot, way fleshier, teased his head.

“I never thought I could like this.” He said with a small surprised smile before he threw his head back, the cords of his neck tensing, the veins throbbing so clearly under the complicated game of shadows originated by the soft lights in the bathroom.

You loved his bathroom. It was soothing, with all the dark hues and the orangey lights.

His hands stopped for a second. “You’re distracting me.” He said.

“I wanted to treat you nice. For your birthday.” You replied. “I still can’t believe we went vanilla on your birthday night.” You said, still teasing him, hoping you could have him speaking in that soft, deep, dreamy voice he has whenever you’re getting him in the mood.

“It was good vanilla though.” He commented, his hips jerking forward with a small grunt before he felt his spine turn into putty.

“Very good vanilla.” You said, removing his leg from between yours, deciding to be generous and focus on him.

“Still, I owe you birthday sex.” You said, noticing his slow chuckle as you made him part his legs wide.

“Come here.” He said, removing the drain stopper with his fingers and bringing his hand between his legs as you bent your legs underneath your torso and crawled to him, straddling him and grinding your pelvis against his. “This is way better.” He purred, one of his hands keeping him upright while the other one landed on your ass. “You’re so soft.” He said, pushing his crotch up and against you. “I could just...” Once the water was low enough that his cock emerged freely from the surface, he put the drain stopper back in place, taking in your lustful expression as you ground on him.

“I think you’re the one who wants birthday sex.” Taehyung said, grabbing your hips and squishing the skin there.

His touch was always something that set you on fire. Ever since the first time, since your very first touch, he had completely possessed your entire being. Whenever his body connected with yours it felt like your skin and his were ready to part and like the raw extremities of a wound, and heal together, his blood vessels becoming yours, or maybe yours becoming his, until there was no distinction anymore. It was the exact opposite of that kind of surgery performed to separate conjoined twins.

And no surgery, no cutting was necessary. It was just. Preternatural. And so, so natural at the same time.

“Do you need me to stretch you?” He asked, his thumb massaging your clit.

One more bridge between you and him.

“I can take you. I’m so turned on.” You said, bending to kiss his neck and drink the small droplets of water glistening there.

“Was it the massage?” He asked, rolling his head back, offering you even more skin to kiss.

“I don’t know,” you said, licking him. Meanwhile you started noticing it wasn’t water, but rather your own slick making you slide on him.

Water was too unreliable, it would leave you dry and make the whole experience traumatic; especially, considering his size, both in length and girth.

“We can act like it’s your birthday.” He said, kissing a soft spot under your jaw. “Have an early birthday for my Nymphette.” He said, this time nibbling against the sweet spot on your neck.

You chuckled and brought your hands down his chest, scratching his stomach gently and playfully pinching the soft flesh of his belly. You loved him being so lithe and at the same time a bit fluffy in such an adorable spot. It made you think of childhood games, like blowing raspberries of his sensitive tummy. It always makes him so happy that his eyes spark up with pure, innocent joy, his mop of hair immediately coming for your neck and bosom, where he nuzzles in to tickle you before rubbing his face against your breasts like a cuddle some cat.

Once your face parted from his neck and chest, he cupped your face, holding you still. “I love you.” He said, staring in your eyes. And it felt so simple: no big statements, no poetic words, no useless rethorics. “I love you.” He repeated.

You mirrored his hold on you, placing both hands on his cheeks and rubbing your thumb against his divine features. “I love you.”

It holds more meaning than you could ever explain. The obliterating need in both your eyes and his, the urgency and the fondness. You felt like a pot boiling and overflowing with ten thousand ingredients that were a specific mix of his taste and your taste and his smell and yours and all the tastes and smells you’ve experienced together.

The candle burning in his room the first time you made love. His aftershave. Strawberries. Your shampoo, which became his shortly after you moved in. Champagne and that bubbly feeling of having butterflies in your stomach. French macaroons. The first breakfast in bed. The tteokbokki you had eaten with his parents the day he introduced you to them. The light, talk scent of Yeontan’s fur after the first time you bathed him together.

Now you were horny and emotional.

Taehyung seemed to notice. “Are you feeling okay, honey?” He asked, dragging his thumb against your lower lip.

“I just realised how important you are to me.” You said, bending to his face and kissing him.

“Just now?” He asked, slightly surprised as he raised an eyebrow.

“No,” you replied, closing your eyes and touching your face with his, feeling the slight stubble of his cheek against yours, brushing your noses together, focusing on the intense sensation of his face against such a personal, private part of your own body. “Sometimes I just… get lost in the feeling. It feels like being overwhelmed by all the things we share, all that we have together. How many things remind me of you.” You murmured against the tender spot behind his ear.

“I know.” He said. His hands moved to your waist, fingers sinking in the flesh as he invited you to sit up.

You followed his direction. Once he could look at you, all of you, he took his length in his hand. “Inside?” He asked, checking in on you.

You nodded. “Please. Inside.”

He closed his eyes and smiled, pulling you close to his chest once more with one arm wrapped around your waist.

With the hand on his cock, he rubbed his tip up and down your slit, making you moan a couple times, whimpering when you felt his soft tip breach your walls.

“Tae...” You whined, his lips meeting yours and trying to suffocate your lament.

“Hush, Lace,” he said, touching your spine. “Is it wet enough?” He said, pressing his mouth to your temple. “Take your time, love.”

You inhaled and lifted your hips up before sliding down again, one inch at a time, your muscles constricting around him so hard that you had to stop.

“Too tight,” he said, trying to lift you up slightly. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” He said as he kept kissing your face. “Let me stretch you first, love.”

“No.” You whined, your hands stopping his as he tried to slide out of you. “I want it like this. I can take it, just… Easy.” You said, begging. “Please.”

“If it hurts, we stop. Immediately.” He replied, still unsure.

You nodded eagerly and let your hips lower some more. “Kiss me?”

His eyes turned into warm, happy crescents as he obliged, moving his lips against yours. His hips inadvertently jerked upwards, forcing one more inch into you, making you gasp and offering him the perfect chance to let his tongue slide into your mouth.

The kiss was the sweetest poison, with playful flicks and demanding swipes, the tip of his tongue licking the underside of your own as yours arched up toward his palate. In the erotic frenzy of it all, you completely lost control of your legs and before you could notice, he was completely sheathed inside you as he kept sucking on your wet appendage, bobbing his head slightly as your tongue, fully stretched out, methodically appeared and disappeared past his lips. It felt right, your tongue penetrating his mouth as his sex penetrated yours. It felt balanced.

It didn’t take long before your hips started moving, riding him, making him moan and lose the suction he had on your appendage.

Parting from him was a mess of spit, both your eyes and his opening and staring at the silvery string connecting your lips to his. “You’re so hot.” You murmured as his hands landed on your hips, helping you, just as your brought your own palms to your chest, pressing your breasts together, massaging them as they rolled with the way you were simply moving back and forth, not really focusing on bouncing but rather sliding.

Taehyung was immediately captured by the sight of your breasts caught in your palms, his hands staying on your hips to help you while his mouth landed on your left nipple. You quickened your pace as his thumb met your clit, making you whine. “How close?” You asked, brow furrowing as he tugged at your nipple while suctioning it inside his mouth. You moved even faster in reply, gyrating your hips too as he grew more and more eager on your skin, until his teeth had created an indentation on your areola and your nipple was too sensitive to stay inside his mouth, subjected to the ruthless whipping and flicking of his tongue.

“Oh my god, Tae, please, I’m—” You couldn’t put a finger on what was making you so desperately horny, maybe it was simply because you were just out of your period and you had been starving for him for almost a week, but unexpectedly you felt yourself near your edge.

“Lace for fuck’s sake, we’ve just started.” He grunted as he recognised your kegels pulsating around him faster and tighter. “Already?”

You nodded.

“Damn. So hot.” He huffed out before pressing his mouth to your other nipple, giving up on sucking it and deciding to simply loll out his tongue and press it flat against your chest. “Come on, nymph. Cum on my cock.” He swore as he felt you get impossibly tighter. “Fuck it, Lace. Ride it.” He said, removing one hand from your hip before you heard a loud smack, followed by a prickling, burning sensation on your left glute.

The muscles of your ass and legs quivered as you stopped for a second, his thumb restless at the apex of your labia. “Did you—” You shivered as he hit the perfect spot, “Did you just spank me?” You asked, all your muscles tense.

He froze. “… did it… I’m sorry…” He said, confused.

“No, I liked it.” You corrected him. “I was toying with you.” You said with a small smile.

He knew sometimes you weren’t in the mood for spanks and power play. Sometimes you just wanted to be equals and simply get lost in pure, extreme sensations.

He shook his head, incredulous. “Then keep going, nymph.” He said, before surprising you with another spank.

You gasped and chuckled before cupping his jaw and joining your mouths, your hips moving carelessly.

This time he grabbed your ass viciously before slapping it one more time, his tongue being twice as lively as usual as he licked your own tongue, revelling in the velvet paradise of your mouth. Once he felt your hips grow impatient, your movements irregular, he parted from you, throwing his head back, eyes opening, his long lashes fluttering dreamily as he let his mouth hang open before silencing a moan by catching his lower lip between his teeth.

Finally you felt pleasure taking over your body, Taehyung’s eyes opening and focusing up.

He gestured at the ceiling with a jerk of his chin. Following his tip, your gaze turned up. And met the mirror.

In that moment you realised how furiously you were moving on top of him, how eager and desperate and sexy you looked.

“Look at you. So messy for my cock. My little nymph.” He said, smacking your ass once more.

A short whimper exited your mouth as the hit took the air from your lungs.

Your high exploded while his thumb teased the underside of your clit, unprotected by the hood and painfully sensitive by now.

For a second, everything felt too intense, your hair wet and dripping down your back, the water grown cold by now, and his skin so hot, his nipples hard under your thumbs, his hands moving to your breasts once you didn’t need him on your clit anymore, his palms sliding on your half-dry skin and pressing your boobs together before he dove his head forward, dragging his whole face against the soft crevasse that your tits formed together. He started ramming his hips up, fucking into you as your movements slowed down.

He loved suffocating between your breasts, gasping hard as your heartbeat drowned his ears, your breathing like a feral, powerful creature beckoning him toward your dark lair of consuming bliss.

Biting his lip, frowning and groaning repeatedly, he slammed his hips hard against the back of your thighs, four, five, six times before he stilled and screamed in pleasure, the dark granite of the walls amplifying his animalistic sound before he bit into your breast, almost painfully.

Too bad you were still lost somewhere in pleasure, his body finally joining yours.

Maybe you would complain about the bite in the morning, when it would be red and sore and maybe swollen.

“____, fuck. Can we have monthly appointments like this?” He said, gyrating his hips tentatively while you gripped the tub, trying to find purchase as your body betrayed you and collapsed almost entirely.

“Monthly birthdays...” You mused, mouth brushing against the column of his throat.

“Do we really need an occasion to fuck like this?” He asked while his hand kneaded the soft folds of flesh around your torso. He found endless pleasure in feeling every aspect of you under his fingers.

And it never made you feel conscious. Rather, it made you feel appreciated, not like he was avoiding your absolutely average and healthy body fat, but more like his fingers were appreciating every detail of you, singing a hymn to your whole body completely devoid of flaws, praising it in the unwavering, glorious materiality of it.

You felt worshipped.

The shiver that ran down your spine rose him from his blissful slumber. “You’re cold?” He asked, pressing you closer to himself.

You nodded and mouthed at his neck. “You feel too good inside, though.”

He chuckled. “It feels good inside you too.” He replied fondly. Sometimes you wondered how this cockwarming thing never made sense to you before you met him.

“But you need to dry your hair, love.” He patted your ass a couple times. “Don’t want you to get sick.” He said, “Plus, we’re going to be uncomfortable here.” He tried to raise his torso from his slumping. You helped him by sitting up yourself, his dick pulsating inside you and making your eyes roll back in pleasure.

He cackled. “Later.” He said his hands circling your waist and helping you up and off him.

As his cock slid out completely, landing on his belly, completely covered in your and his cum, you licked your lips.

“No.” He said, smirking, already placing his hands on your shoulders, keeping you from bending down and sucking him clean.

“Please, sir?” You whined, arching your brows and pouting.

He looked at your swollen, red lips, at your tongue lashing out to wet them seducingly.

He took his hands away. “Have your fun,” he conceded, his nails scraping your shoulders delicately as you bent forward, one of your hands catching your hair before it got messed up.

With your tongue you licked a thin stripe from the base of his cock all the way up to the tip before engulfing it in your mouth. You easily swallowed a good portion of him before pulling him out, nudging his shaft to the side with your nose and cleaning the messy marks on his belly and his pelvis where your mixed fluids on his flesh had imprinted the shape of his cock.

His moan was dark and sinful before he pleaded for a yellow.

You let him go without hesitation. “Are you okay, pup?” You asked, not even enjoying the mix of your and his taste in your mouth because of your sudden, urgent worry.

“Yeah. I just… I need a slowdown, please.” He said, touching your face weakly. “I’m getting cold.” He said, with soft eyes.

Your worry increased tenfold in your chest. First, you sat up and helped him up yourself. “Okay, Tae. Let me just rinse you, yes?” You called, removing the drain stopper and letting the water flow out before you cleaned up both you and him. The water from the tap ran warm — almost hot — a few seconds later and you managed to rinse him properly before he climbed out of the tub. You followed him and wrapped him up in a towel. “There you go, baby.” You said.

He smiled fondly. “Thank you.”

“Would you like me to dry your hair?” He asked, his beautiful hands balled up in cute fists as he held the large towel around his shoulders.

“No, baby, thank you.” You replied kindly and warmly. “Let me just rinse myself before I dry my hair. I’ll join you in bed in twenty.” You said as you noticed him linger close to the door, showing himself a bit too impatient and excited to head out, possibly to bed, with you by his side. Or on top of him. Or below him. Probably below him, considering you had just ridden him.

Caught in your head, you went back to the tub, rinsing yourself quickly and briskly before stepping out and drying yourself up gingerly, leaving your body slightly damp so that your body lotion would dilute a little with the sparse droplets left on your skin, so that it would absorb better.

Once your body smelled like roses from your breasts down, you rinsed your hands, applied your favourite hair care oil and started the hairdryer. It didn’t take long, fifteen minutes at large, before a rapping at the door interrupted your hair ritual.

You frowned. Taehyung wasn’t one to knock. Just to make sure, you lowered the setting of the hairdryer, waiting in case he did it again and making sure that you had heard correctly.

The sound reappeared.

You switched off the device and placed it in its drawer. “Yes?” You replied.

The door opened.

First, Taehyung’s face appeared, his hair ruffled and dry, his expression sweet and innocent. Was he wearing makeup?

No. Impossible.

He hadn’t actually washed his face yet, but he was definitely without makeup earlier.

His lashes looked longer. His lips redder. And he most definitely had enhanced those beautiful eyes of his with dark eyeshadow lining his upper eyelid, making his stare even more intense.

And was that a heart drawn on his cheekbone?

Indeed.

“May I?” He asked, suspiciously formal and courteous.

“Yes, of course.” You said, with a confused smile.

Next, everything made sense.

God bless him. You thought, your heart skipping a bit and stumbling down approximately sixty flights of stairs.

There, with a fancy silver tray and a fancier glass of red wine on top, stood your amazing, extravagant, glorious, mind blowing, seductive, sultry, indecently sexy, wondrous boyfriend. In a maid dress.

Your body did a strange thing, your mouth hanging open basically already drooling.

Was this how he felt anytime he saw you in lingerie?

“I thought my lady deserves special treatment.” He said, coming closer, placing the tray over the small counter near the sink.

The vinyl playing on the gramophone chose precisely that moment to come to an end.

The mechanic arm lifted and moved away, the plate slowly coming to a stop after all the spinning.

Not that you noticed, you were too busy staring at your boyfriend, imagining what you could possibly do to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t assist you with your lotion, ma’am.” He said, standing, his hands joining before his stomach. “The uniform is a bit difficult.”

“Don’t worry, darling. All forgiven.” You said, your hand shaking as you reached out to touch his face. “You look incredible.” You said, completely dazzled. “Breathtaking.”

He blushed. “Thank you.” His eyes lowered coyly.

“Really, Taehyung. You look… I am speechless, darling.” You said with a big smile plastered on your face. “You’re unreal.” You said, drawing the shape of his lips, the pink lipgloss looking impossibly perfect on his face, emphasising the desirable curves of his mouth.

He stared in marvel too as you looked completely enraptured by his looks. “You like it?” He asked, insecure.

“Yes, of course I like it, love. You look too good, baby.” You reassured him, feeling a tad underdressed standing naked in front of him, while he had several layers of satin, ribbons, lace and of course, the classy apron. He even had puffy sleeves. And the corset tightened in a complicated lacing on the front. You took in every detail. “Do you feel good in it?” You asked, letting your index finger slide down his jaw, along the curve of his neck, to the small mole on his breastbone.

He nodded. “I’ve been tiptoeing around this for a while.” He said, his hand hesitant, his eyes asking for permission to place it atop of yours.

You agreed with a short nod.

“I didn’t know how you would react.” He said, his gaze guarded.

“I love it.” You said, tightening your hand around his fingers and rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. “And I love you.” You reassured him, pulling your joined hands to your face and placing a small kiss on his ring finger, where someday his wedding ring would lay. “Although we could do a few adjustments,” you said, staring at him with the eyes of a trained lingerie maker. “It could fit so much better on you.” You said, walking around him, observing the few points where the fabric slouched and flopped, unfit for his lithe body. On the back you noticed a zipper. You would remember that for later.

“Here,” you said, pinching the loose fabric around his slim waist. “And here.” You said, fingering the ribbons over his chest. “With slight modifications, we can make it more comfortable for you. And make it look like an actual uniform.” You said, standing behind him as he stood in front of the mirror. You bent to place a kiss on the crook of his neck. “How beautiful.” You said, your hands wrapping around his waist, appreciating how small it was, how elegant and expensive he looked. “Would you like it if I added a small accessory,” you asked, moving your middle finger to trace the column of his throat. “I was thinking about a choker.” You said, “something frilly. Maybe with a small kitten bell. Plenty of soft ribbons and lace. Make this neck look even prettier.” You suggested, placing another kiss on the other side of his neck, this time letting your mouth open and suck just a little.

You weren’t allowed to mark him there with all the upcoming music shows.

He nodded. “I’d love to.” He said, looking in your eyes timidly in the mirror. “But first I’d like to make myself forgiven for being late for the lotion.” He said, bowing his head. “Please, miss.”

Your head rolled back as pleasure travelled from his mouth to your ears to your core.

“Of course, kitty. As long as this is the way you want things to go.” You stated clearly. “I need your consent, kitty.”

“I want it, miss.” He assured you.

“Then proceed, kitty.” You said, wrapping your hand around his throat and tightening it affectionately.

He turned around and looked at your lips. “May I kiss you, miss?” He asked, eyes still deflecting your stare.

“Yes, kitty. Of course, darling.” You replied with a gentle smile.

He bent down slightly and swallowed nervously before placing his lips on yours, the taste was immediately familiar.

“This is not lipgloss, am I right, kitty?” You asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Yes, miss. You’re right, miss.”

Damn him. It was lube. Specifically, watermelon-flavoured lube.

You thought how long it would take for this to become too much. For him to become too hot and melt you until all there was left of you was a bottle of sap stored in the fridge.

And your title.

Your ears basked in victory at his perfect speaking manners. You had educated him properly. He was by far your best exercise in domination so far, his manners impeccable at all times when his submissive persona came into play.

“Come on, kitty. Show me how you intend to gain forgiveness.” You spoke sweetly, caressing the hair at his nape.

Soft. So soft. Always so damn soft.

He knelt. Slowly. Very slowly.

Looking up at you with pure, angelic eyes, he poked with his index finger first at your left thigh, and then at his left shoulder.

You grinned.

“You want my leg on your shoulder, kitty?” You asked with an amused smile.  

He nodded eagerly. “Yes, miss. Please, miss.”

You smiled proudly. “That’s a very good kitty.”

Taehyung kept a fond expression, saving his intentions to himself.

Let her think she won, he thought just as his hand landed at your ankle, his fingertips running up the back of your calf, your knee, your thigh, until he applied gentle pressure, inviting you to lift your leg.

Your cunt was right in front of his face, his nose sniffing at your smell, slightly adulterated by your body lotion.

He nuzzled his nose against the tiny patch of hair you kept atop your labia. He loved it without even knowing why. It simply turned him insane. All the time. Especially when he went down on you.

Your hand gripped the hair on the crown of his head, massaging the scalp delicately, but also trying to protect him from potentially bumping it against the drawer under the sink.

“Does it smell good, kitty?” You asked, smiling at him, taking in the view of him.

“Yes, miss. Can I please lick you, miss?” He asked shyly, his voice slightly more high pitched than usual.

“Yes, darling love.” You practically cooed at him.

He didn’t waste a second, his tongue ready to lunge for your opening before he stopped himself with a small gasp. “Thank you, miss.”

You felt even prouder.

God, he really is perfect.

“You’re welcome, kitty.”

And at that, the tip of his tongue brushed the tight rim of muscles lining your entrance, collecting your taste before flattening the muscle and dragging it all the way along your slit, delivering a series of hard flicks as his hands travelled to your ass, helping you ride his face straight away.

You enthusiastically followed his instructions, especially once you felt two of his fingers run from your backside to the front, sliding inside your dripping hole.

“Kitty, that’s very nice.” You said, huffing out an enthusiastic chuckle before it transformed into a sinful deep moan. You started directing his head, his tongue stretched taut past his lips while you ground your crotch against it. “Kitty, this is a very good surprise.” You said, praising him, petting his hair, your eyes closing as he moaned in approval, watching you as you grew more and more lost. You took the glass in your hand, taking a sip of wine and feeling it bloom in your mouth instantly, your cheeks warming up, your veins throbbing with the wild beat of desire awakening your every limb.

Your head rolled back, your hand immediately placing down the glass as you felt your high approach, his fingers sinking all the way to your cervix, tapping against it.

His lips captured your clit, sucking it a couple times before releasing it, pressing it to his front teeth with his strong tongue.

“Tae,” you called, too fucked out to care about pet names and stuff. Your edge was there, waiting for you, all you needed was…

He pulled out his fingers, making you cry out before they returned to their place. Shortly after, his thumb landed on your skin. Wet. Slippery. Right against the oversensitive skin between your cunt and your anus.

All it took was two gentle rubs and your body crumbled, all your weight going to the hand on the sink while your legs shook wildly, your knees too wobbly to survive your high; your other hand too moved to the sink, too scared of hurting your lover. His hands gripped you tighter instead, pushing you harder against his face while his tongue lashed out, the hard muscle grinding against your clit as he moved his head furiously in a nodding motion.

You weren’t sure you called his name or screamed or simply held your breath and stayed silent, your ears were completely out of order.

If it weren’t because of being on your feet, you would have thought you had passed out. Taehyung’s arm stayed tight around your waist while you removed your leg from his shoulder, trembling as you placed it down. “Holy hell.” You said, still gripping the sink for support. You looked at Taehyung. His whole face was covered in wetness, the heart on his cheekbone completely smeared, the only lube left on his mouth being the wetness coming from yourself. “You look amazing, Tae.” You complimented him. “A damn masterpiece.” You said, proud to your very core.

He grinned.

Kitty out. Tiger in.

“May I have some wine now?” He asked, no honorifics, no submission.

You grinned and bit your lip, wiggling your eyebrows.

He wiggles his right back.

Holding the glass, you took a large sip in your mouth, leaving a scarce finger in. You took a step back, bending at your waist and placing your mouth near Taehyung’s. He opened his mouth invitingly and you let a small amount dribble past your lips and fall into his mouth.

He patted his lips wider before stretching up surrounding your lips with his, making sure that not a drop got to waste.

Once he was sated, he placed a finger under your chin, moving it to your throat and wrapping his hand there.

“Now you’re gonna stand up and bend over, Lace.” He ordered, no trace of pliability in his demeanour, and no sign of mercy either.

You obeyed immediately.

“Hands on the sink. Keep them there.” You heard the sound of a zipper. Looking up you noticed that he was naked.

And that he was hard.

You licked your lips nervously.

“Lower your head.” He said, spanking you out of the blue.

So he was in a spanking mood. Mentally, you agreed.

“I know you want me like this. Uh?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, inhaling deeply as his fingers drew the line of your spine.

His finger stopped at the middle of your back, pressing on your spine to make it arch until it became almost painful.

“Stay.” He said, grabbing the silver platter and balancing it on your ass. The cold made you hiss, but you focused on staying perfectly still. “Stay.” He repeated, “I need to wash my hands.” He said, before abandoning the platter on your behind and coming to your side, standing right beside you as he washed slowly poured some soap on his palm, opening the tap and wetting his hands rubbing them together as he closed the tap with his elbow.

“It is always a pleasure to look at you like this.” He said, taking all the time in the world.

All you could see was his legs, midthigh down.

“You look like you don’t have a dominant bone in your body.” He mused, making sure that the thin foam reached between his fingers too. “You say ‘yes, sir’ and you sound like the single, most obedient, pliant creature in the world. Like you were made to please me.” He continued, looking at the platter tremble slightly.

He decided he could rinse his hands and dry them.

In half a minute he was standing behind you once more.

With your head hanging low, you felt the weight on your backside diminish imperceptibly. The platter disappeared next, landing on the counter.

Taehyung’s left hand laced with the hair on your nape, moving your rebellious locks aside. Now he had the whole expanse of your back before him, naked and richly arched.

Considering the situation, he cocked an eyebrow, clicking his tongue.

Something cold, like a blade pressed to your lower back, your spine arching even further.

“Stay still.” He said, bending to your ear. “If you move I’m gonna whip you.” He said minaciously.

He didn’t expect a reply, so you didn’t offer any. Cold liquid slid down the crevasse between your shoulder blades, sliding down the dip connecting your neck to your ass. Then something hot and soft appeared at the saddle of your back, where it reached the lowest spot. You put two and two together.

He was doing body shots down your spine.

You were sure when something that must have been his tongue slid all the way up to your nape. “Delicious.” He said, his hand placing down the empty glass on the counter, his erection pressing against your ass. “Let’s see if you can take it.” He murmured, standing straight and tugging at your hair until you were perched on your elbows, his reflection and yours appearing in the mirror in front of you. Which reflected the mirror behind you. Which allowed you to see Taehyung’s handsome figure.

He licked his lip and tipped his head back, looking at you cockily before gripping his hard on, rubbing the soft, velvety head against your labia, spreading your wetness before he let the tip sink in.

You moaned desperately. “Oh god.” You called, closing your eyes and looking away.

He gave a sharp tug at your hair. “Look how good you take my cock.” He said, staying perfectly still until he saw your eyes open through the reflection in the mirror.

“Please.” You begged weakly.

“What?” He asked.

“Please, sir. I’d like you to wreck me, sir.” You whined, pleading for his harsh ministrations, looking at him through the mirror.

He grinned and sunk all the way in.

You screamed.

He spanked you.

You took it with a tiny hiccup.

“Does my cock feel that good?” He asked, backing out.

“Yes, sir.” You replied meekly.

He slammed in again. “This is how you like it?” He asked sadistically, beginning to drive his hips into yours with a punishing pattern.

“Yes, sir. Please.”

“You’re such a slut for this cock.” He said, gritting his teeth, the veins at his neck bulging as his tendons flexed.

“I’m your slut, sir.” You said, ready to cry for him, completely shameless.

He grinned evilly. “Just for my cock. Such a horny fuckdoll.” He teased, delivering one more spank and making you arch your back, the tip of his cock hitting the most perfect spot, “drooling for my cock. Spitting in my mouth. Riding my face.” He rammed in even more furiously, your brow furrowing as you stared at the view of his back muscles flexing as he railed you, his glutes flashing as he hammered into you recklessly. “You’re such a dirty slut. You love being spanked, don’t you?” He asked, landing a loud smack on your other asscheek.

“I do, sir. Please, sir, please please… pl— I’m— Oh, sir.”

He went even harder, his middle finger reaching your clit and rubbing it as fast as he could. “Is this what you want? To cum on this cock? You want my fingers, little fuckdoll?” He asked deviously. “You’re such a pretty nymph. Living to get fucked.”

As you tried to turn toward him and lock your eyes with his, looking for reassurance, you spotted the side mirror, offering you the whole scene as it appeared on the right side. You ended up hypnotised by the motion of his cock sliding in and out too fast for your unfocused eyes to actually capture the whole vision.

Your high crested before you even felt it grow. It overthrew you, your arms failing you, your knees bending and your thighs pressing together.

Taehyung had none of it. His hand forcefully parted your legs again before landing a hard spank on your labia.

“Stay still and take my cock.” He said, angrily keeping his hand on your clit and rubbing it faster while he made you stand straighter, your tits appearing in the mirror in front of you, bouncing as he rammed violently into you.

The high didn’t stop. It grew even more.

He felt you milk him harder and harder. “Cum again, nymph. Cum on my cock again. Make it rain and wet the fucking floor.” He said, growling at your ear. “Look at those tits. So fucking good.” He growled, just as you shook your head in complete helplessness. “I’m gonna suck them like a baby before I fall asleep.” He said, gently slapping one until his strokes became irregular and even more ruthless.

You pushed your own hips hard against him until you finally felt that uncomfortable sensation leave your womb, eyes closing, shoulders collapsing, knees shaking and wobbling until they completely gave out, Taehyung’s body following yours and saving you from the tap as your torso landed against the sink, your legs spasming and leaving the floor as you screamed Taehyung’s name, his hand strumming your clit until you went completely silent and he heard you sob and pant. “Tae.” You called, voice thin before every sensation stopped.

You awoke to Taehyung’s hand touching your face.

“Lace, darling.” He called, “____, love.” He murmured against your ear.

First you realised your legs hurt. Like you had done too much exercise. Next, you realised he wasn’t inside you still. Some part of you felt cold.

“Tae.” You said, confused.

“Oh, baby.” He said, smiling his biggest boxy smile, touching your cheek again, dragging your hair off your eyes. “Are you okay, dove?” He asked, simply looking at you.

You nodded, confused. “I think I blacked out?” You said, trying to stand straight.

He was immediately close to you holding your hand and offering you his body as your support. “You did, love.” He confirmed. “Are you okay?” He asked again, just as you felt your foot land on a wet patch on the floor.

“Did I… ?” You asked, looking at the small puddle there.

“Yeah… ” He smiled sheepishly. “I have your blanket if you’d like.” He said, hugging you to himself.

You shook your head. “Shower?” You asked.

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

He opened the glass door and switched on the soft lights there, set them to the softest tone and helped you in, holding your hand as he used the other to open the tap and test the water for the right temperature. He grabbed your hair tie near the body wash and offered it to you.

“We’ll just rinse real quick, yeah?” He said, leading you under the spray and pouring a small amount of soap in his hands, foaming in up and rubbing it against your legs, before reaching your crotch. “I’ll go easy here,” he warned before his hand skimmed your skin, making sure that you weren’t dripping his seed anymore. Once he was done there, he rinsed his hands and poured some more body wash, repeating the procedure and removing any stain of wine from your back. Satisfied, he pulled you into his arms. “I love you so much, Lace.” He murmured in your ear. “You’re safe here, love.” He reassured you, protecting you. “You are beautiful and strong and sexy.” He said, healing any wound he had caused with his dirty talking, putting you together after pulling you apart. “You are worthy of affection, and respect and love.” He said, watching as you turned and tried to clean him up yourself, his messy eye makeup dribbling down his cheeks.

Once done with the shower, he wrapped you up in his bathrobe, a bit too big for you, making you feel hugged and extra-pampered.

He patted your head with one hand as he removed what was left of his mascara and eyeshadow. And then he placed an arm around you, back hugging you as you both brushed your teeth, his body clad in a towel before he swapped it for a pair of boxers and a sleeping shirt.

“Let’s put you into this.” He said, grabbing one of his robes from his sleeping clothes and wrapping you up in it, lacing your hands with his as you both reached the kitchen.

You stayed silent as he helped you sit on the counter, standing between your legs as he reached for a bottle of water and two glasses, stretching to reach your sleeping pills. He offered you a glass and got a pill ready, passing it to you once he managed to work it open. “There you go, love.”

You nodded and downed the pill, forcing yourself to finish the large cup of water, just as he downed his own, looking at you and making sure that you drank it all.

You placed the cup down and hugged him, waiting for him to finish.

He took your hand in his again, keeping you as close to him as possible as he brought the cups to the sink and led the two of you back to the bedroom.

You climbed the bed absentmindedly as he entered the closet, coming out with a rather large tiger plushie and a fluffy blanket with a polar bear print.

Crawling close to you, he waited for you to remove the robe and slide underneath the covers. Next he threw the blanket on top of your body, making sure that it stayed close to your face. After that, he placed the plushie in your arms, tucking the blanket tight. On his bedside table, he switched on the air purifier, the gentle scent of pine filling the room.

The lights went off.

His body came closer to yours and you cuddled in absentmindedly, his limbs tightening around your shape, warming you up immediately.

“I love you, Lace.” He said, again.

“I love you too,” you replied softly before a yawn.

“My pretty dove. Beautiful dove. My angel… My fairy… My joy… My peace...” And with a litany of sweet praises whispered in your ear, you fell asleep like a baby.

[ohhipstaplease]

idk if you're still doing prompts but nh + fluff 15? I'm sorry about all the fluff pieces but I live for fluff 😅

I’m sorry if it isn’t as fluffy as usual but I HAD to write something Team 8 centric to soothe my soul today. I can see this turning into a full fanfic though...at some point (I promise)

Fluff #15: “She’s/he’s not my boyfriend!”

After Hinata confesses to Naruto—and her “I love you” goes right over his head—Kiba takes matters into his hands to (finally) get the two idiots together.

Post Pain-Arc | Canon Divergence | Jealous (!) Naruto | Ao3

“You look cute today,” Kiba said nonchalantly to his teammate as she walked towards him. 

The Hyuga beauty had uncharacteristically pulled her hair up onto the top of her head in a high ponytail, her delicate features now on display for the world to see.

Hinata, already used to Kiba’s compliments, didn’t bat an eye when he said it, she simply responded, “Thank you! I just wanted to try something a little different,” She patted Akamaru’s head in greeting, the gentle giant licking her palm as she giggled.

Kiba took the opportunity to sneak up behind her and pull on her ponytail slightly, wanting to fix the slight hairs that were sticking out. He adjusted the simple lavender tie she had placed upon the top of it for good measure as well. 

Had anyone happened upon the pair, they probably would have thought there was more between them than a simple friendship, but they were used to it. Hinata didn’t even try to push him off, she simply let him fix her hair and looked up at him with a thankful smile when he was finished.

They were meeting up to have lunch, a much needed distraction after all the chaos that had ensued in the village during Pain’s attack. Unfortunately Shino was unable to join the pair for a well-deserved day off, leaving them to their own devices.

Kiba nodded as he stepped back and appreciated his work, “I like it. I’m sure Naruto will too,” He smirked.

She exhaled, her cheeks red and splotchy, “We’re not going to let it go, are we?”

“Hinata, you confessed to him.”

“It was in the middle of battle...spur of the moment,” She tried, suddenly regretting admitting to Kiba and Shino that she had, in fact, told the love of her life, Naruto Uzumaki, her true feelings for him. She knew they’d never let it go, not until Naruto gave her an answer either way. 

She just wasn’t ready to hear what he had to say. Even if he was ready to face what she had said to him head-on, “Besides,” she mumbled, “he didn’t even acknowledge it...”

“You told him you loved him...you literally died for him. How could the idiot not see it?”

She shrugged pathetically, “It is what it is, don’t worry, Kiba.”

He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets when suddenly it hit him. An idea so genius, even Shino had to approve. Akamaru, sensing that Kiba was about to say something Shino would in fact not approve of, whined and hit his master gently on his leg with his paw. 

Kiba ignored him, knowing that what he had in mind was just too perfect not to share, “Hinata?”

“Yes?”

“What if...what if we made Naruto jealous? Just to make him see what he’s missing.”

“W-what?”

“It’s the oldest trick in the book, Hyuga,” He took her hand into his as if he had done it millions of times before, “We go on a fake date, act all cute and shit, and when he sees us together he’ll magically realize his feelings for you. You know, because someone else has what he thought was his and all that bullshit?”

“You’re insane.”

“I know what boys are like, Hinata.”

She looked down at their interlaced fingers and sighed, “You’re sure this will work?”

“If it doesn’t, I’ll pay for lunch.”

“And dessert?”

“As many cinnamon rolls as your heart desires.”

Hinata exhaled and nodded, “Alright. I mean, there’s nothing left to lose, right?”

“That’s the spirit!” 

Kiba led Hinata forward, Akamaru following close behind. He was sure his plan was going to work, after all, he barely had enough to cover his portion of lunch. That alone should have proved how confident Kiba was that he’d get Naruto and Hinata to finally acknowledge their feelings for each other. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Okay, just follow my lead,” Kiba said as he spotted Naruto at his usual stool at Ichiraku. 

“Naruto! How are you? Healing up okay?” Kiba asked as he sat down next to the blonde, his hand still in Hinata’s.

Naruto squinted at them, tilting his head, “I-I’m fine. Thanks for asking...”

“That’s good to hear, we all deserve some time off after that mess, right Hinata?”

Hinata didn’t dare meet Naruto’s gaze, simply nodded and pretended as if he wasn’t even there. 

“Two bowls of pork miso ramen, please!” Akamaru barked and Kiba smiled down at him, “Oh right, it’s a special occasion. Make that three bowls!”

“Special occasion?” Naruto asked.

“Nothing you have to worry about, just celebrating a certain someone saying yes to a question I asked,” He said, looking at Hinata.

Naruto’s cheeks grew redder by the second as he studied them, “W-what?”

“I asked Hinata to be my girlfriend,” Kiba said, holding up her hand in his, “And she said yes.” He roughly pulled her into his embrace and pressed his cheek to hers, “Isn’t it great?”

Akamaru groaned behind the three, trying to ignore what was happening before him. It was getting a little too painful to watch. Kiba had never been known for his tact after all.

“So you two...are...dating?”

Hinata tried to interject, feeling sick over everything that was unfolding, “N-no we-” 

Kiba quickly slapped a hand over Hinata’s mouth and laughed, “Yeah! I confessed to her right after we got back to the village. I mean, it just seemed to be the right time and all, considering everything that happened.”

Naruto let out a breath and instead of continuing the conversation further, he flagged down Teuchi, “Old man, how much do I owe you?”

Teuchi quickly put up a hand and waved Naruto off, “Oh, no, we could never charge the village hero. Not after everything. Consider it on the house.”

Naruto nodded solemnly, gave a glance Kiba and Hinata’s way, and quickly turned to leave.

“Kiba!” Hinata said in a panic, “That definitely couldn’t have been a part of your plan!”

Kiba huffed, “Yeah...I didn’t think he’d just walk away like that. Maybe we need to try a different-”

Hinata ignored Kiba and decided to take matters into her own hands, what she should have done in the first place, really.

She got up from her seat, a flustered mess, and chased after Naruto. She screamed out without thinking, “Naruto-Kun!”

His head turned immediately towards her, his brow furrowed in confusion, “Hinata?”

“Naruto-” She panted, attempting to catch her breath as she caught up to him. 

“What are you doing? Aren’t you on...” He took a breath as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, a pout playing upon his lips, “Aren’t you on a date with your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” She yelled out, a little too passionately.

Naruto stifled a laugh at how ridiculously cute she looked. Her ponytail was slightly askew, her cheeks flushed and her lips ridiculously red from her biting her bottom lip. He had been biding his time since he had returned from the village, waiting to approach Hinata and talk about everything that had happened. About what she had said to him.

“Then why did he...”

Hinata sighed, so clearly embarrassed for going along with it. But...she quickly realized that Naruto was...jealous? She could see it in his eyes, the way he acted back at Ichiraku. He was clearly bothered by what had happened. Kiba was actually...right.

So she gathered her courage and firmly asked, “Why do you care?”

“Huh?”

“Whether or not Kiba and I are dating....why do you care?”

Naruto furrowed his brow, “I don’t, I-I just,” He groaned, “Hinata, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter!”

“Why!?”

“I told you I loved you!”

Naruto looked at her wide-eyed, clearly in shock. Of course he knew she had confessed her feelings, but...they were also in the middle of a battle. He thought that...that maybe it wasn’t true. It was an adrenaline-fueled confession that she would walk back the moment they got back. That maybe...maybe she meant she loved him like she loved her teammates. That he was her precious friend, just as Sakura and Sasuke were his. He never imagined in his wildest dreams that the girl he’d always taken notice of always wanted to protect had been watching him too. That he’d grow to want to take care of her, to ensure she was okay. He didn’t know what that meant then, but he did now.

He didn’t understand his feelings until that day, in the midst of battle, and it killed him to think it took them nearly dying for him to comprehend that what he felt for her was far greater than friendship. 

“I-I know...” He managed to mutter, “It was just such a crazy day, Hinata. I thought that maybe I misheard you, or that you didn’t mean it in the way you did. I didn’t want to embarrass you by bringing it up again. I mean...we haven’t even talked since we got back.”

“Then let’s talk,” She said, looking down and shyly placing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I-I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

Naruto grabbed the same hand Kiba had intertwined in his earlier, and claimed it as his, protectively interlacing his fingers in hers and squeezing her hand for good measure. 

It wasn’t like with Kiba at all, Hinata realized. Her heartbeat was out of time, her knees felt weak. Feeling Naruto under her touch was nearly too much for her to handle.

“Oh..um...” Naruto blushed as he met her gaze, “I really like your hair up, you know?”

“O-oh,” She smiled as she looked away, unable to look at him head on.

“It’s really cute.”

“T-thank you.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, of course. Um, why don’t we go get something sweet, yeah? We can talk at the tea shop?”

“Okay.”

The pair, hands still intertwined, walked toward the tea shop, a blush upon each of their faces.

Kiba, watching from outside Ichiraku, smiled to himself as he said to Akamaru, “See boy, it all went exactly as I said it would. Didn’t it? Next thing you know, we’ll be helping Hinata pick out a wedding dress.”

Akamaru rolled his eyes and continued eating from the offered bowl of ramen. It was better to let Kiba think he had won this round.

“Ah, first love,” Kiba sighed dreamily as he sat back down on his stool, “I can’t wait to see it all play out.”

[seventfics]

Love your writing. Prompt: Jaskier has abandonment issues, which he tries and fails to hide. Angsty shenanigans ensue

[Thank you! ☺️ I normally don’t do prompt requests but this is right up my alley of emotional suffering, so,]—x

So it’s true that Jaskier has everything anyone could ever want in life. He was born into comfort, held status and name, and had the fortune of education, though that last one was beaten into him mercilessly because he was not an easy child. He had it all—

He still has it all, if he wants it. Nothing stops him from returning to teach in Oxenfurt. No one will deny him his family title, of properties or inheritance. On the contrary, he’s earned even more renown by his lyrics and poetry and Continental ballads, his name known to every court and tavern. People flock to him for his tales of the White Wolf—and that too is part of his renown, for he turned the Butcher into a hero at no cost of his own but a few sore throats after eveningfuls of encores—

They invite him for festivals, banquets, courtly affairs. They propose to him, bed him, threaten him out of towns for having bed the wrong person. He is famous. He is the bard Jaskier. And when his fame and his charm are no longer a novelty, people are quick to move on. 

In Lettenhove, in his early years, there was a tutor who praised him for his sharp musical ear. The old man spent many hours of the day showing him the value of the arts, something that left an imprint in his very soul. Not a year later, his parents sent him to temple school to learn his letters. He never saw the old tutor again—

In Oxenfurt, there was a girl who loved him for his voice. She was beautiful and sweet, her laughter like winter bells. By Summer’s end, she found a painter who worshipped at her feet like a dutiful priest at the altar of the gods. He doesn’t remember her name—

There were many like that girl since, and every time, he learned to accommodate a little better to keep them longer, to no avail—

In Posada, there was a witcher who huffed and groused at his company, and yet allowed him to come along on his journey. He was kind in a guarded way, a way familiar to Jaskier—the echoes of someone who has given himself up many times, only to suffer loss and rejection. Heartbreak hangs about him like a cape. And it takes Jaskier some time but he accommodates, learning the witcher’s limits, his preferences, what’s a jest and what’s a jab at old wounds—

 “What’s this, you’re going to hunt the drowners now?”

The witcher is packing his bags neatly by the door. He offers a brief nod. “It’s early. They’ll be sluggish.”

“Give me a moment, I’ll come with.”

He’s given a strange look that says nothing of the sort will be happening. “No you’re not, bard. You’ll get yourself killed.”

Jaskier takes the threat of life in stride. “I’ll hang back, I swear, who wouldn’t want to see the great White Wolf in action!”

Sometimes the witcher huffs, indulging him. Other times, dreadful times, he orders him to stay put. So Jaskier waits in taverns, sitting on his hands. It’s the hardest thing for him to do. To wait. He does not sing, not while his gut twists and his fingers flutter nervously on wood. He simply waits and thinks about all the reasons why his company is but a burden on coin and travel, the witcher so used to traveling alone.

And every time Geralt comes barreling through the front door wet with gore, his mind and his chest empty of all aches.

“Oh thank the gods, you’re—still in one piece,” he says, because shouting you’re back, you’re alive, you didn’t die and leave me behind is far too much of a weight to throw on Geralt’s shoulders, he knows. 

Geralt merely grunts, shaking off some of the grime. “Of course I am.”

 It’s like that. The witcher leaves on a hunt, and on the times Jaskier cannot follow, he waits. Geralt always comes back—if not for him, then at least for the reward. It’s at the end of every crossway where they part face to face, never knowing if they’ll meet again.

And Jaskier continues his own journey, in search not of home, but its opposite. Of a place that will forever change to the years and the seasons and never bore him. Never bore of him. No one should know him any more than he is allowed to know another, except—

Except the witcher Geralt of Rivia who he meets again and again. Knowing him more with every meeting—

—A noise in the forest, distant, and Geralt gets up with his swords from camp.

Jaskier just fumbles, “You’re not just going to leave me here twiddling my thumbs in the dark, are you?”

“I’ll be right back, bard. I have to check—”

—A shared room on low coin, and never a problem between them. Jaskier stirs awake to the bed moving. 

“Sum’thing up? Y’have to go?” He tries to mumble through a dry mouth. Geralt nudges his head down.

“No, I just need to eat. You keep sleeping, Jaskier—”

—A storm, and they’re both holed in a damp cave. Geralt looks ready to throw himself out in the rain and hunt for the Kikimore queen anyway.

“Geralt, please don’t leave in—in this storm.”

Geralt does listen, perhaps because he sounds a bit more shaken than usual. They’ve already gone low on provisions because the rain soaked through their bags. They need the coin. And it would have been fine, if Jaskier hadn’t insisted they go through this town—

Foolishly, dangerously, he becomes attached. Years go by. A decade. Two. There is no one else Jaskier knows more in his life. Geralt’s mannerisms, his expressions, his disquiet. He knows them all in the silence across a campfire, and he hopes he is known in return. 

He hoped at the banquet in Cintra, barely whispering of a need that he dared not tell anyone else. 

He hoped in the chaos of Rinde, of the djinn and the witch, begging for the witcher to choose him first. 

And he hoped in the mountains of King Niedamir. 

And his hope is not enough.

Jaskier knows to bear smiles and jokes for the right crowds, and he knows how to be serious in certain company. He learned to accommodate a little better to keep people longer, of course, to no avail. Even with Geralt—

He should never have grown complacent, believing that things would be different this once. He became attached—beyond attached, beyond need, beyond affection—

“I'll go get the rest of the story from the others,” Jaskier says in parting on that mountain, because if he makes light of it, then it will sluice off his frame like water, undamaging. He can pick himself up to keep searching for that place—of that someone that will never bore of him, that will never forget him and throw him aside.

Despite his efforts, there’s a chasm in his chest. A breathlessness like a wound that doesn’t want to heal. And he lingers at the foot of the mountain when he sees Roach nibbling on dry grass, tethered by the inn’s poor stable poles. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays with her, petting her coat. She indulges him, preferring his company over the stablehand’s. There’s a joke there somewhere, about her being as obstinate as her rider, but he can’t bear to say it. Can’t bear to speak through the stone lodged in his throat—

And he shouldn’t be with her, not if he wants to avoid the witcher who so clearly and plainly told him to take off for good. But Roach is sweet. For once, she doesn’t bite his wrists. Instead she nickers, snuffling his dusty doublet. Maybe she’s learned to accommodate for heartbreak too, as it seems to follow where Geralt goes, whether caused by his hand or brought upon him—

“Jaskier.”

He freezes in place. He cannot turn. To see his blazing expression would be too much—

“Sorry. I won’t be staying. I’m just,” his voice fades as it starts to shake. How can he explain why he’s touching the witcher’s mare, for the simple comfort that she offers in not shying away from his touch?

“Jaskier.”

It is a demand for him to turn. He recognizes it in Geralt’s voice. Jaskier clenches his hands on Roach’s mane—

Refusing doesn’t work, as the witcher takes his shoulder to pull him back—

There are no fixed smiles left in him. No jest, no shrug. He hurts too deeply to put forth the effort. He is the bard Jaskier, but in front of Geralt of Rivia, he’s just alone. He has everything anyone could ever want in life, and not a lick of it matters with no one to stay for him, no one to call a friend—

But Geralt is not angry. He doesn’t quite look like anything except intense, keeping his wide yellow eyes on Jaskier’s own as he grips his shoulder tight. 

“Let me go,” Jaskier says because he cannot take being seen so deeply, so closely, and not being wanted—

“No.” Geralt’s grip turns painful. “You—don’t want me to.”

Something breaks in him at the words—the truth in them—and it burns in his eyes and it burns his throat—and burns to tears shed pressed to black leather, his hands scrambling at the hard surface of Geralt’s armor. 

He doesn’t want to be let go. Geralt holds him to his chest and he feels like stone cracking under pressure. Like gravel being crushed—

“I was angry,” the witcher says, swallowing against Jaskier’s ear, “I didn’t mean it,” tucking his face into Jaskier’s hair, “I don’t want you to go.”

And maybe it’s cruel or greedy but he wants for Geralt to ache like he does. To feel terror at being left behind. At it being Jaskier who walked away—hurting, choked by his own surging feelings—from the mountain first, by his offense—

Another part is relieved. Because Geralt does know him, after everything, after Jaskier’s efforts to know the witcher. He knows him well to strike where it hurts the most. He knew where to tear into with harsh words—

And that by doing so he went too far and tore into Jaskier’s heart too—

There are no apologies, but there are amends. There is a wavering conversation and one more stay at the inn.

At the crossroads they’ll part again, but not with goodbye. Not with tears or screams or hidden fears. They’ll meet again, like they always have. Better than they always have—

Because this time, and every time since, they part with a promise to see each other again.

[izaswritings]

Title: building trust

Fandom: RWBY

Synopsis:  Oscar and Oz stage a prison break. Qrow… complicates things. 

(Or: in which Oscar takes over as the voice of reason, Oz is Guilt, and Qrow is just having a very bad and emotional day, and these two are not helping. Rebuilding trust is harder than it looks—  it’s all about the small steps.)

Notes: This fic is kind of an unofficial sequel to this story here, (or here) but you can still read this one on standalone if you want. Shoutout to the anon who told me I had to write the prison break fic-- this is for you, anon. 

AO3 Link is here.

.

“This is…”

There is little left to say between the two of them, looking down and out over Mantle’s ruined and smoking streets. It is three hours after Oscar fell from Atlas, and now he is back again on the floating city, standing at the edge of the drop. From this height Mantle is a depressing sprawl of smoke and ruin. On the ground, the situation had been gruesome, but their view of the destruction had been limited. One house burning on a street corner, a few empty streets of rubble, and all the people vanished from sight, huddling away in the shelters. Any bodies slowly being buried by the snow.

As terrible as it sounds, in Mantle the Grimm had been the only trouble, and even then, not much. As Oz had put it, when Oscar had asked— evading Grimm is child’s play after almost a few thousand years of practice.

Ah, Oscar had said, at that. Well, when you put it like that…

Even finding an airship managed to be a far easier task than assumed. Oz knows where the military base is. Oz knows how to hotwire a ship. Oz knows… a lot of weirdly illegal things, actually.

“Your judgment is unappreciated,” Oz had said.

It’s just, this is the second time I’ve helped steal an airship, Oscar said back, and sighed. I can’t help but feel like we’re just going to end up facing a giant robot again.

“Deeply improbable,” Oz had begun, and then a soldier had started shouting and Oz dropped the conversation to yank back the controls and put them in flight.

And now, here they are: Atlas, again, in a private sector cordoned off, as close as they can get to the military custody cells without being detected. Getting off Mantle was, hilariously, the easy part. It is this next part that makes Oscar hesitate.

Oz is still in control—still bearing the pain of exhaustion and bullet wound bruises both, because in all this cascading disaster Oscar has yet to get either proper healing or an actual nap, and their aura is all focused on blocking out the cold—and it is Oz who looks away from the sight of Mantle, hands clenching tight over the knob of the cane, gripping the Long Memory like a lifeline.

This is awful, Oscar whispers, feeling thin. There is no surprise in his voice, in him. No horror. Just a quiet, seething sort of anger, a frustrated ache that this happened at all. That it has come to this.

Oz, for his part, can hardly seem to face it—he closes their eyes and turns their face away, breathing in slow and shaky. Oscar goes quiet, watchful. He can feel Oz’s thoughts as his own, which is why he knows what the other thinks of all this. The tangle of emotion is sobering. Regret, grief, anger… and a bitter taste all across their tongue, the awful bite of betrayal, because deep down they’d both thought Ironwood better than this.

This time, it is Oscar who offers the words they both need to hear. It… it isn’t your fault.

Oz exhales out a shaky breath, but his laughter is soft and bitter. “No?” He drags their eyes back to the ruined landscape below. When he speaks, his voice is distant and wondering. “How far Mantle looks from here. How shrunken. A failure on our part. A sign of neglect, really. A sign to do better.”

Oscar considers him. Doesn’t speak.

“I wonder if he ever saw it the same way,” Oz observes, clinically. He stares down at Mantle as if there is an answer in the smoke. “Perhaps, when he stood up here, looking down upon them… maybe he just saw Mantle as small.”

Still. Oscar is stubborn. How were you supposed to know what he thought about it?

“You are turning my own words against me,” Oz murmurs back, and finally turns away from the ledge. He walks them back to the building, their alleyway. The stolen airship sits half-hidden by a building, and with any luck, it’ll stay undetected. Oscar is praying the chaos is enough to confuse the sensors. “And on the same day, no less.”

Doesn’t make it less true.

A few blocks down, the military holding cells await. They’ve moved swiftly enough Oz doesn’t think Qrow will be at the prison yet—the hope is that he is here, for holding or interrogation or both. And given that this is the highest-priority military cell, and Ironwood called for Qrow’s arrest personally… the chances of him being here are high. Now, they just need to find him.

Oscar looks up at the barbed-wire walls and the very tall building, and sighs. More breaking and entering. Well, all right. Let’s steal a military scroll.

Oz hums, already scanning the entrance, walking up to the gate. “I thought you disliked stealing.”

They only bring out the giant robots for airships. We’re fine.

Despite everything, that actually gets Oz to smile again. “Hm. Sound logic, I suppose.” He turns and surveys the gate, then lifts his hand to wave at the officer stationed by the entrance. “Hello! Can you help me?”

“A kid? But what are you...” The guard’s gun lowers, and then she stills. “Wait. Your face. Aren’t you—!?”

The officer doesn’t get a chance to finish. Oz knocks her legs out from under her, calmly whaps her over the head, and then handcuffs her as she groans. He takes the scroll and opens it, surveying the device. The gate clicks open without any further issues. Oz looks out over the military holding yard and sighs. “Well. And now for the hard part.”

Everything else wasn’t hard?

“Stealing the airship didn’t require breaking and entering, I’m afraid. And this was just sense. Getting in the actual building will be just as hard as getting out.” Oz sighs a breath through their teeth, and glances down at the handcuffed officer, still looking woozy. “Especially if we do not want to be caught. I did not think about that. Hopefully, we will be gone before she gets out of the handcuffs.”

We could… wear a mask?

Oz considers this. “…No.”

But—

“No.”

Well, do you have a better idea?

Oz clasps their hands behind their back, looking up to survey the building. Oscar waits for him to think it out. Oz had explained some of it on the way here—it’s not as guarded as a prison, but it’s still a place designed to hold higher-ranking criminals, enemies that Ironwood places on top priority.

Oscar doesn’t like the look of the place. The sleek walls. The shiny surfaces. The glint of the barred windows seems cruel. After all that walking through Mantle, to stand in Atlas and witness the sheer wealth of difference between them makes something in him harden.

Oz must come to a decision—he lifts the cane and spins it in their hands before tapping it down hard on the snow. “The old fashioned way, then, I suppose,” he says. He heaves a heavy sigh. “We are a bit too small to believably steal any armor, unfortunately.”

I don’t think physically breaking our way into a prison is a...very good idea? Also, um. We are still… injured. Won’t that—hurt?

“Usually, it is not.” Oz starts for the door, cane by his side. “But if there is any bright side to this situation—” Oscar mentally makes a face, and Oz sighs again. “Yes, I know, and I agree—but again. Atlas is on high alert. Grimm are converging on the city. And Salem…”

That old bitterness, half-memory and half just Oz rises up, like static in Oscar’s soul, and together they both glance back at the shroud of dark storm clouds slowly moving in on the city. In the past hour, the wind has picked up to a howl. It won’t be long, now. The thought makes their aura shudder in dread and fury.

“Well. Salem is, currently, a far larger threat. I have no doubt that Atlas’s sensors have picked up on her invasion by now. If there was ever a time this prison would be understaffed and vulnerable… now is likely it. It is, too, why we were able to land the airship up here in the first place. Two days ago, I suspect we would have been shot just getting in the sky.”

They’re nearing the door, now.

“But… yes. We are still injured. Fighting will… likely aggravate the injury, regardless of our aura.” Oz hesitates. “If—I understand if you would rather not—”

No. It’s fine. Oscar settles back, shifting through the information. We need to get Qrow out. And if this really is the best time to do it—and the best way… His thoughts firm, steady and cold with determination. We can’t hesitate. There’s no time.

“…Very well.” Oz turns their eyes back to the door, and hefts the cane in hand. Though not in control, Oscar can still feel it—the shift in emotion, the cool blanket falling over their thoughts. The turmoil, the grief, the anger, the lingering fear Oz won’t acknowledge about seeing Qrow again—all of it, buried beneath a laser-eyed focus. “I will be quick.”

Just… try not to push us into passing out?

“Hm, yes, that would be unfortunate. Not to worry—I know our limits.”

I thought you just said you were out of practice.

Oz calmly holds up the officer’s scroll, unlocks the front door, and walks through. “Well. That was an hour ago.”

That’s… not comforting.

This—with the door open and the two of them already inside—is about when the guards finally notice them.

The ensuing fight is rapid-paced, and terribly one-sided. For someone who claims to be out of practice, Oz is swift and brutal in a way that runs entirely counter to his usual manner—he strikes the guards with merciless force, leaving crumpled and groaning bodies lying still on the floor behind them as they push their way into the prison. It never goes too far—no bones broken, no bruises that will lead to unfortunate death—but it is definitely impressive, and Oscar would be awed, if not for the looming sense of resigned doom that he’s definitely going to be feeling this fight for a while. Bruises for days. He’s not looking forward to it.

Oz, currently in the middle of slipping a scroll from the highest-ranked guard’s pocket, pauses at this. “In my defense,” he says mildly, standing them up to limp towards the next door, “we were already in rather rough shape. You would be feeling it anyway.”

I’m just… not looking forward to facing a full-scale invasion like this.

“…An understandable worry,” Oz admits, after a pause. “But you do not… have to feel it alone, as it were. I am happy to take on the burden should the aftereffects be—unpleasant.” He lifts their head. “And once we have a moment to breathe, our aura should start easing some of the pain. We will be okay, Oscar. We simply must hold on until we can rest again.”

Oscar hums a quiet agreement, watching through their eyes as Oz takes them up the hall. He’s frowning, slightly, brow furrowed. They’ve gotten in, but from here on out Oz is uncertain of where to go.

Oscar leans in, not so much taking control as sharing it, and ignores the rising ache of pain as he flickers their head to the side to look up at the front desk of the precinct. Do Atlas personnel keep records?

Oz blinks. “…Yes, actually.” He beelines for the desk, tapping at the computer keys. “A sound idea. Atlas is keen on efficiency. They should be—” He makes a noise. “Ah-ha. B-block.”

Second floor, holding cell 4E… doesn’t seem far. We should hurry.

“Agreed.” Oz spins the cane through their hand and heads for the stairs. Somewhere, an alarm starts to sound. Oz presses a hand to their side with an uncharacteristic curse, and sprints for it.

They make it to the second floor with only minimal resistance, and Oz heads right for the door half-way down the hall. “Here. This room.” He takes up the scroll and presses it to the scanner. The light clicks green. Oz closes the scroll and takes the handle, as if to push the door open—and stops.

There is a long pause. Oscar waits. Oz stares down at their hand for a long moment. There is the slightest of trembles through their fingers before he forces their hand to still. He takes a breath—tightens his grip—

Oscar gently pushes Oz out of the way, and then he is here again, he is himself again, in control once more. Physicality slams into him, the pain sharp and sudden and impossible to ignore, a stitch building in his lungs from the overwork. Still, this switch in control is almost too easy, which is telling enough, but Oz fumbles in something like shock.

Oscar—

And wow, okay, ow, that fight really pushed all the limits he didn’t even know he had, okay. Oscar grits his teeth and rides out the sudden wave of pain, spots dancing behind his eyes. Beyond a brief and pained hiss through clenched teeth, he manages to swallow it back. “It’s fine,” he whispers, once he feels he can breathe again. “It’s fine.”

Oz hesitates. I should…

“We all need to talk.” Oscar straightens with a pained exhale. “And we will. But there’s too much happening. One thing at a time. Prison break is—” He exhales again, smile twisting wry. “Is, um, probably a bad time.”

Oz is quiet for a very long moment. Oscar waits. They have very little time to lose, perhaps—already he can hear alarms beginning to ring, orders shouting out—but Oscar sets his feet and waits, calm, for the answer.

…Thank you. Oz sounds tired.

Oscar tilts his head and doesn’t bother with a reply, just turns the handle and pushes the door open into the holding cell. Light casts through the open door. Qrow is sitting on a lone bench in a dark cage, his head bowed and shoulders slumped. He doesn’t even look up when the door opens—but the person sitting next to him does.

“A kid?” Robyn Hill looks surprised. “Who the hell… wait. You’re the one from the dinner. With Ironwood.”

“Um,” Oscar says, mentally backpedaling for all he’s worth. What? Robyn? Why? “H-hi?”

Well. This is certainly a surprise. I don’t recall Ironwood putting out an arrest for her.

Yeah, neither does Oscar. Was she arrested with Qrow? Did they take her in just because? That seems... shitty.

At her comment, though, Qrow’s head snaps up. His eyes fix on Oscar and go wide. He straightens like he’s been shocked. “Wh—Oscar!?”

Oscar stares at them, trying to get his mind back on track. Oz chooses this moment to be unhelpful and go utterly silent, which is. Okay. Fine. After a pause, Oscar works his jaw and manages a weak smile. “Oh, um. Yep. That’s me.”

“How did you get here?” Robyn asks, still looking bewildered, but it is Qrow who jumps to his feet and heads towards the bars. “Kid,” he says. “Kid, I thought you were dead!”

“What?” Oscar says, and Oz says, The report, the officers must have told them, and Oscar snaps his mouth shut. “Oh, right. Right.” He pauses, a sinking feeling in his gut, a mingled dread from Oz and Oscar both. “Um.” He doesn’t want to tell them about Ironwood just yet. Not if he doesn’t have to. This just… isn’t the place for it. “It’s a long story.” He moves for the cell doors, holding out the guard scroll. “Let’s get out of here, first.”

Qrow passes a hand down his face, looking ragged but relieved, laughing quietly in a way that doesn’t make it sound like he’s laughing at all. Robyn just shakes her head. “No, wait,” she says, as Oscar unlocks the cell. “I don’t understand. How did you even find us here? This is a military facility!”

“They’re distracted with other things, right now,” Oscar says absently, pulling open the grate. His side aches. He bites back the wince. “They were undermanned. Um, I found keys.”

Robyn scowls at him. “You broke into a guarded government facility all on your own?” She sounds half-way between incredulous and impressed, and turns to shoot Qrow a glare, as if asking for an explanation. Qrow, too, is looking at Oscar oddly, his brow furrowed. He’s holding something tight in his hands, Oscar realizes suddenly—a small object, something reflective, that he’s flipping absently through his fingers.

Oscar meets Qrow’s gaze, calm, and offers a pale smile. “Not… entirely on my own,” he says, careful, and when Qrow goes still, he flips the Long Memory so he’s holding in it in both hands, a silent answer to the question he sees on Qrow’s face. He waits. Qrow doesn’t respond.

Oz is silent, too—a tangle of something like guilt and a pale regret, exhaustion—but all Oscar does is nod, and collapses the cane to clip it on his belt again. “It’s just me right now, though,” he says. Shouting drifts up from the floor below. Oscar turns to Robyn. “Can you fly an airship?”

She looks at him with narrowed eyes. “You gonna explain what the hell that cryptic-ass statement was?”

Oscar actually grins. “Sure.” The shouting grows louder. “Just, um, later?”

She considers him. Then she nods. “I can fly a ship.” She claps Qrow on the shoulder, and for a moment her voice goes awkwardly gentle. “Come on, asshole. Time to run.”

Qrow seems to jolt back to himself. His fingers clench around the thing in his hand. “Right. Right.” He shakes his head, turns to Oscar—and then shakes his head again. “Lead the way, kid.”

Oz murmurs in the back of his mind, muted. He seems shaken.

Oscar looks Qrow up and down. He does seem shaken. Oddly disconnected. There’s blood flecking off his sleeves, his hands. Oscar doesn’t like that look of it—it gives him a bad feeling.

His lips press. There’s no time.

“Let’s go,” he says, and rushes from the cell.

Escape is marginally easier than breaking in—Robyn seems almost too keen to bust some heads, and once they pick up their weapons she fights with gusto. She seems angry, and more than happy to take that anger out on the guards who’d locked them up. Oscar supposes he can’t really blame her. After everything she did for Mantle, the last few hours were probably like something from her own personal hell.

Qrow’s weapon is bloody all the way to the hilt, poorly cleaned. Qrow actually flinches when he sees it. Oscar is getting such a bad feeling about this.

Oz, too, is quiet. This isn’t good.

Yeah, obviously. But Oscar swallows it back.

They are running through the halls now, only slowed by the continuous stitch in Oscar’s side. He’s limping badly, and his cane is getting more use as a crutch than a weapon right now. Ow, ow, ow. He gets the sense Oz wants to offer to take over again, except they both know that’d cause too many problems right now. Oscar tilts back his head, looking at Qrow from the corner of his eye. “What do you think happened?”

…The object in his hand—it looks like a badge, don’t you think?

Oscar almost trips. Oh. Oh, no. “Do you think—?”

I am not sure. I wasn’t aware for a majority of those moments, and you only met him once. But… General Ironwood’s men are—incredibly loyal. It would not surprise me if…

Oscar presses his lips in a thin line, chest aching at the thought. He hadn’t known Clover Ebi well to have much of an opinion, but if Oz’s guess is right—that must have hurt.

“All good, kid?”

He looks up to see both Robyn and Qrow looking back at him, Robyn’s face creased in worry and Qrow’s blank in a way that makes him want to hide. Oh, shoot. He manages a smile. “Um.” How to salvage this?

We are still running for our lives. A rather more pressing issue at the moment, I would think.

Ah, right. “The airship is behind the building?”

Robyn shakes her head, looking exasperated, but turns back around to run. Qrow stares at Oscar for another long moment and then looks away so quick his neck snaps, and doesn’t look back again.

That… is not a good sign.

“Too late to worry about it now,” Oscar mutters back, and shoves out of the prison doors, side burning, breaths wheezing. The stitch in his lung is starting to become something agonizing. To Robyn: “It’s—t-there, that alley, it should be—still running—I hope—”

She is already turning the corner. “Got it. Get on!”

“T-trying!” Oscar wheezes out, and pushes forward. Pain flares up his side like the stab of a hot poker. His leg buckles again. Oscar makes a strangled noise and tips sideways, arm snapping out for the wall—

A hand grips under his arm and drags him upright. Qrow. He catches Oscar mid-stumble and pulls him forward, dragging them up the ramp and turning just in time to raise his weapon. The sharp ping of a blocked bullet rings out. “Close the damn doors!”

“On it!” Robyn is already in the pilot’s seat, flicking on the controls. “Hold on!”

The ground shudders and Oscar lunges for the airship wall, leaning heavily against the seats and gripping the seatbelts for support. His side is splitting in pain. His head spins, his vision going blurry. The bottom drops away, his ears popping from the pressure; outside the window, he watches as Atlas slowly fades into the clouds, the airship rising up into the sky. They’ve made it. They’ve made it!

He can’t breathe. Every inhale feels like it isn’t enough. Oscar curls up over his side and fights the urge to throw up.

Oz’s voice snaps in the back of his mind, sharp and calming. Oscar. Breathe.

“I—can’t—”

A moment of pause. Then: Let me take control.

Oscar grits his teeth. “But—”

You’re on the cusp of hyperventilation, and with our injuries as they are, such a thing will not be pleasant. I appreciate your concern, and I am grateful, but your wellbeing is far more important than my insistence on avoiding my problems. Let me help.

Oscar bows his head and struggles for one lingering second, and then drops control all at once. It’s one of their rockier switches—for a moment their head dips forward and they almost blackout, and then Oz snaps to awareness and inhales sharply, fighting to get their breathing back under control.

He sits them up straight and places a bracing hand to their side, leaning heavily against the side of the ship. He closes their eyes and slows their breathing, taking deep breaths despite the panicked burning in their lungs.

Oscar, dizzy and distant, his head clear now that he’s away from the pain, takes scope of their state and winces. The little strength they’d regained from their rest in Mantle’s pit is all but gone now. The weariness drags at him.

I… I’m sorry.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Oz murmurs back, and their aura flickers up, focused solely on their side. Thankfully, the airship has heating, which means their aura’s healing properties can now be fully utilized. “We, ah… perhaps pushed our luck too soon.”

“That so?”

They still— their shock two-fold, the flash of surprise belonging to Oscar and Oz both. In their exhaustion, they’d forgotten where they were. Across from them, Qrow is standing against the airship door, looking down at them with an expression turned cold and hard. “That isn’t exactly like you, Oz.”

…Oh, crap.

Oz doesn’t reply. For a moment he is very still, and then he forcefully relaxes, clenching and unclenching their fingers. His ache for the Long Memory is so strong that even Oscar can feel it, but Oz doesn’t reach for the cane, just pushes them to sit up straight and leans back against the wall, hands still pressed to their side.

“…Perhaps,” he says, finally, with slight strain. “But it has been a—rather tiring day. Even for me.” A pause. “We… all make mistakes.”

Qrow’s face darkens, a flash of anger like a storm. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.” His fingers are white-knuckled on his sleeve, his jaw tight. He straightens, looking ready to snap—

“Okay,” says Robyn, from the front. She turns back to look at them. “I’ll bite. The hell is going on? What the fuck just happened to the kid?”

Oz visibly winces. In the back of their mind, Oscar sighs. Oh, geez.

Oz speaks very quietly, under their breath. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to—”

At this point, switching might make things worse, Oz. He pushes back, for once—hilariously—refusing control. Rebuilding trust, remember?

Oz sighs, but seems unsurprised, and Oscar suspects he perhaps just wanted to hear someone else say it. He straightens, then winces again when the pain in their side flares, bad enough even Oscar can feel it, though it’s muted by the distance.

“That is…” Oz exhales, hard. “I am Professor Ozpin. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hill. I have heard… good things about you.” He manages a smile. “To make a long story very short, I am—paired with Oscar through an old curse that has had me reincarnate again and again, until Salem is defeated. Oscar is my most recent incarnation. He is also, in fact, still here—I am just briefly taking control.”

Robyn blinks fast. She stares at them for a long moment, as if waiting for the punchline, and when one doesn’t come she sits back in the pilot’s seat and turns her face to the window, looking bewildered. “That’s… okay, then.”

Argh, we look so weird…

Oz’s expression twitches into a wan smile, but Qrow shifts and the smile drops, stone cold. Qrow does not look at all pleased. His eyes are bright with fury. “But why bother introducing yourself, anyway?” Qrow sounds icy. “Let me guess. The moment you give up control, snap! Gone away again, right?”

“What?” Robyn says.

Oz doesn’t react. For Robyn’s benefit, he says, reluctant and forced, “I… also have spent these last few months— mostly unaware, as it were. I have only just returned.” His eyes flicker to Qrow. He takes a long breath. “I… I want to say that I am—”

“Save it.” Qrow’s voice snaps. “Why now? Why today? Why the hell are you back?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Oz stares calmly back, but Oscar can feel his exhaustion, soul-deep and aching. They are both of them at their limit. “I… I am here. To stay. Even after Oscar takes back control. I am simply in control now to manage—the damage.”

Robyn’s eyes flash back, her hands tight on the airship controls. “The kid’s hurt?”

Qrow straightens at that. “What happened?”

Oz—

“They will find out sooner or later,” Oz says simply, cutting Oscar off. “Best to know now.” He closes their eyes and takes another breath. “Oscar sought to convince Ja—General Ironwood to change his mind about Mantle. Ironwood… did not take well to this.” He pauses, then sighs. “He shot us off a cliff.”

There is a long, awful silence. Qrow looks pale. Robyn’s hands are white-knuckled on the controls. “So that’s it,” she says, voice tight. “That’s it. That’s—where he stands.”

Qrow stares. “…Are you serious?”

“…It broke our aura.” Oz presses their hand against the wound, breathing shallowly. “Only a bruise, thankfully, but… if Oscar’s aura had been any more depleted, we would not have survived the bullet, let alone the fall.”

Nothing. Qrow is still. Perhaps it is the shock about Ironwood, or whatever happened that bloodied Qrow’s weapon and left Clover Ebi’s pin in his grasp, but all his anger seems abruptly drained. He slumps against the door, hand covering his face. For a moment the only noise is the rattle of the airship, battling against the storm.

Oz looks away. “I understand if you cannot forgive me,” he says, in the silence. “And I will not ask you to. But Salem is coming. And if we do not act soon, then Atlas will meet a fate even worse than Beacon.” He lifts his head, but still, cannot seem to bring himself to look back at Qrow. “I… understand if you don’t trust me. I have not, after all, proved myself trustworthy.” He hesitates, longer, and then, quietly: “But please. Whatever the plan… let me help.”

Qrow breathes in. Breathes out. Straightens against the door. “I don’t trust you.” Blunt. Sharp. Oz doesn’t flinch, but his eyes close, and Oscar would cringe if he could. “And forgiveness isn’t even on the table, frankly. But.” Qrow scrubs a hand down his face. “Fuck, if James has really—well. We could use all the help we could get.” His hand lowers. His eyes are sharp. “Hey, Oscar.”

Oscar brightens in interest. Me?

Oz says, cautiously, “He’s listening.”

Qrow stares at them, as if trying to see Oscar past Oz’s eyes. “Do you trust him?”

Oscar’s response is immediate. I’m willing to try.

Oz winces. “Oscar—”

Like I said before. It’s never too late to build trust. Not if you’re willing to mend it.

Oz hesitates. Takes a deep breath, then pauses again, unsure of how to voice it. “Ah, he—”

“Stop.” Oz’s mouth snaps shut. Qrow closes his eyes. He looks tired again. “I can tell. Kid’s face is an open book, even when you’re the one wearing it.” His eyes open. He lifts his hand and looks at his palm. Oz was right—it is Clover’s badge, small and silver and flecked with drying blood.

Qrow looks at the badge for a long time, then gently closes his fingers around it. He tucks the badge away in his inner coat pocket, where his flask used to sit. “Well,” he says, to the wall. “If Oscar’s willing to give you a chance… fine.”

Oz falters, obviously taken off-guard. His surprise is tinged with something sharp and golden, a rush of relief. “I—that’s—thank you. I will—”

“I’m not done.” Qrow’s stare bores into them. “I don’t forgive you. At the moment, I’m too angry to really consider it. The kids… who knows. Maybe they’ll be a different story. But whatever happens. Whatever comes next? You’re not in charge. And if you step out of line, if you lie—again?” Qrow leans forward. “This is it, Oz. One last chance.” His voice rasps. “Try not to fuck it up, yeah?”

Silence, again. Qrow leans back against the door. He seems drained. Tired. He closes his eyes.

“I understand,” Oz says. He looks down. “Thank you.”

Another pause. The silence stretches. Oscar nudges him, and Oz takes a breath. “Qrow. I am sorry for your loss. He seemed like a good man.”

Qrow’s jaw clenches, and he looks up, livid—but Oscar is already in control again, blinking fast from the blood rush and pulling a face at the floor. Qrow slumps. “That—!”

“He meant it.” Oscar presses at his side, closing weary eyes. He feels tired, but—pleased, too. Oz is a quiet sigh in the back of his mind, but his emotion is a tangle of guilt and bone-deep relief. A chance. It is more than Oz feels he deserves, but that is what he’s been given.

Still. I wouldn’t exactly label that conversation as having “gone well,” Oscar.

“No,” Oscar agrees, “but it’s a start.” He lifts his head and gives Qrow a weak smile. “Thanks for hearing him out.”

Qrow sighs again. “The things I do for you kids.”

Oscar laughs at that. Then he trails off. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, shoot. The others—” He tries to sit up, and hisses when his side twinges. The pain is fading under the focus of their aura, slowly and surely, but it’s still seizing. “Salem is coming—and they think I’m dead or, you know, that you’re in prison—we need to—can we—?”

“Calm down, pipsqueak.” Robyn. She’s already flicking through the controls. “Finally, something I can do. That conversation was dramatic, don’t get me wrong, and it did explain some stuff, but wow that was awkward to sit through. Give me a sec.”

Qrow puts a hand back over his face. In the back of Oscar’s head, Oz is a momentary burn of embarrassment.

I’ll admit. I forgot she was there.

Oscar snickers once, smothers it at Qrow’s glare, and gives Robyn a smile. “If you can reach them—”

“Got it.”

Static crackles through the airship. A voice bleeds through. No-nonsense and sharp—Maria. “Who is this?”

Oscar sits back, eyes half-lidded, exhaustion lingering, listening to the sound of his friends’ voices. Jaune. Ruby. Nora and Ren and Weiss and all the others. He closes his eyes with a smile, calls a weak affirmative when they demand after him, and lets their relief wash over him, warm, welcome. They’re all alive, they know he’s alive—Qrow is as willing to work with Oz as he can be, and sooner or later they’ll have a plan.

Salem is coming. The storm is almost upon them. But there is a warmth, Oscar thinks, in knowing he won’t face it alone.

Maybe Ironwood never saw Oscar for Oscar, and maybe he never saw Mantle as a place worth saving—who can know? But the people here care, the people here see him, and together, he thinks, they can at least give Mantle a chance.

Oscar.

He pries his eyes open. Qrow and Robyn are talking with the others—hashing out a place to meet, to plan. Soon they’ll all be together again. Soon they’ll figure it out.

Thank you. I know I have said that numerous times today, but… truly. Thank you for giving me a chance.

Oscar hums, and closes his eyes. “Had an advantage,” he mumbles back, exhausted. “Knew you meant it.”

Oz feels lighter. Almost as if he wants to laugh. True. Oscar’s head dips. Oz’s voice is warm. Rest, Oscar. I’ll wake you when we land.

He knows Oz will. There is a peace in knowing that—in having Oz watch his back. Oscar tips his head forward and lies down on the airship seats, and lets the crackling static of his team’s voices and the rumble of the airship carry him to sleep.

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Ogre Battle (Joe! Deaky x Reader) FLUFF w/ a Sprinkle of SMUT!!

Part 15 of The Queen Repertoire

WARNINGS: Cursing, mild smut, insinuation of domestic violence

Notes: Sorry this took so long it was ridiculously hard to come up with an idea for this song, and not to mention with what’s going on around the world I found it hard to find the mental energy to write. I’m doing better though and am planning to get stories up in a faster pace cuz lord knows  we need the distraction now more than ever. Stay safe and at home fam! Enjoy!

Come tonight Come to the ogre sight Come to the ogre-battle-fight

Not all heroes wear capes. I know that now.

My ex just left our flat fuming. The flat itself was a mess now, but it was nothing compared to me. My cheek stung from where he hit me and I was just... done. The phone rang as soon as he left. I tried to put on a brave, normal voice...but you can never lie to Freddie darling.

“Y/N what's wrong?” he asked.

“I-It's no—.”

“Lovey don't you dare say it's nothing. I can hear it in your voice something happened,” Freddie said. “Tell me.”

“Save me first then I'll tell you,” I said holding back tears. He and the other's knew my ex and I were having problems and that he wasn't always the loving type. So it didn't surprise me that Freddie knew just how bad things were with just that one little sentence.

“Pack your things lovey we're on our way,” he said.

It's been a few minutes. I packed my clothes haphazardly, and grabbed my box of records (what records were left after my ex took to smashing them against the wall). I waited by the door  grateful that my ex always spent a couple hours getting smashed at the pub.  Good for nothing drunken arsehole wanker. That's what they kept telling me but I never listened...just kept telling myself it wasn't true. God I'm such a bloody idiot.

I nearly jumped at the sound of a knocked at the door, a very furious knock. I opened it to see an enraged Freddie, being slightly held back by Brian who stood behind him with his hand on Freddie's shoulder. His hand slowly fell though when he saw my face.

“Where. Is. He?” Freddie said, fists balled.

“Not here,” I said turning to pick up my bag and box. As I did I left the door open revealing the mess left in the house.

“Jesus,” Roger gasped. “The prick is fucking mental!”

“Lovey, I will ask again, where the fuck is he?” Freddie asked again as John took my bag from me and Brian took my box.

“It's not worth it love,” I said closing the door behind me.

“LIKE HELL IT'S NOT NOW TELL ME WHERE THAT FUCKING WANKER IS BEFORE I TEAR ALL OF LONDON APART LOOKING FOR THE PIECE OF RUBBISH!”

“FRED!” I reached up and took his face in my hands. “I'm leaving him! Alright? I'm leaving...that's all that matters.”

“B-But he hurt you.”

“And it'll only hurt me worse if you got in trouble because of him,” I said. “Now can we please just go.”

Freddie cooled down a bit and we piled into Roger's van. We drove down to their flat where they escorted me to the 'guest room'. “Deaky isn't this your room?”

“You need it more than I do, love,” he said placing my bag down by the bed.

I walked over to it and collapsed. The lads just stood their awkwardly, as though waiting for a miracle to come and heal me right there on the mattress. “Well are you handsome bastards going to just stand there or am I not getting a cuddle tonight?”

With an eye roll Freddie moved to lay down beside me. John collapsed on the other side of me. Roger laid back by my feet at the foot of the bed. And Brian pulled up a nearby chair sitting in it with his long legs dangling over one of the arms.

I was surrounded by warmth and silence; the feeling so comforting I prayed I could stay like that for the rest of my life.

“Why can't all men be like you lot?” I asked not realizing I asked it aloud.

“Well then we wouldn't be so unique then would we?” Freddie said. “Besides can you imagine the chaos that would ensue if the world suddenly had more than one Roger Taylor?”

“As if one of me is so bad to be around,” Roger said. “Besides do you think a world with more than one Freddie would be any better?”

“Darling I don't think...I know,” Freddie said cheekily.

I rolled my eyes and pecked Freddie on the cheek. “I love you, you crazy bunch of nutters.”

We laid there together for what felt like a peaceful eternity.

“What do you suppose that pathetic waste of space is doing now?” Roger asked.

I groaned. “Roger please...I don't want to think of him anymore. Not even to imagine him dying of alcohol poisoning in his spot at the pub.”

“So he's there then?” Roger perked up.

“Proper smashed I'd bet,” Freddie said sitting up. “Lad's why don't we have ourselves a little fun showing that ogre piece of shite just how it feels to be on the other side of  the fist.”

“OH FUCK YEAH!” Roger stood up and ran to get his coat.

“Freddie please!” I said grabbing him by his arm. “I don't want you getting hurt or imprisoned because of me!”

“Darling just seeing that mark on your face hurts me. Ergo I must show him that you can't hurt anyone of us without hurting all of us. Now he may walk away alive but I can guarantee he will suffer pain a million times worse than what he has inflicted upon you.” I'd never seen Freddie so furious before. It was scary but at the same time...

“I love you,” I said pecking him on the lips. “So you better come back to me or so help me I will never forgive you.”

“I will, darling,” he said. “I love you too.”

“And I will do everything I can to keep these nutters under control,” Brian said standing up from his chair. “I'll carry you over my shoulder if I have to you are not leaving that pub a murderer.”

“As if you could lift me with your twig arms,” Freddie said.

“Want to bet?” Brian said in his serious 'I'm-Not-Bullshitting-Here' voice.

“Deaky will you join us?” Freddie asked the man laying beside me.

“Um no, thank you, I'd rather spend the night with Y/N than in jail,” he said. “Besides I don't feel comfortable leaving her alone right now.”

I sighed. “Well thank God one of you has a brain.”

“Ahem,” Brian looked at me offended.

“Fine, thank God two of you have a brain,” I said laying back down. Brian smiled at that and left the room followed by Freddie.

Once they were gone I turned and placed my head on Deaky's chest.

“I don't deserve you guys,” I muttered.

“Yes, you do,” Deaky said wrapping his arms around me.

“No I—.”

“Y/N,” he lifted my chin up with his forefinger. “You deserve the world and so much more.”

I brought my hand up to play with the tips of his long hair. Deaky was always the kind and gentle soul in my life. The one who held my heart and cared for it when nobody else would. “I should've been with you.”

“What?”

“Back when that monster first came into my life I was a bit conflicted. Here I was with two choices; go with this new mysterious path or go with the one my heart always wanted. I chose wrong.” I looked up at his gentle eyes, his face soft with innocence and love. “I should have chosen you from the start, and spared myself the horridly wasted time with that ogre...I choose you now...if you'll have me.”

“Y/N,” he said brushing my cheek with his fingers. They were rough and calloused but gentle as they touched me. “I chose you a long time ago. I will always choose you.”

I reached up and pressed my lips onto his. He kissed me back and after a while flipped us over. He peppered my lips and cheek with kisses before bringing his lips to the skin of my neck. He licked and sucked at my flesh, earning a moan from me. “Deeaaakkkkyyyy.”

He pulled back looking at me as though I was the only thing that existed for him at that moment. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said brushing my nose with his before our lips collided again.

Life with my ex was never like this. With Deaky I could breathe, and relax, my body melts into his, and my heart...my heart only beats for him. Making love with my ex was also never like this. Deaky was gentle touching me and taking his time; he made sure my comfort was a priority and not his satisfaction.

His hand snaked underneath my shirt nudging it upward. I pulled back and nodded letting him lift the material over my head. He tossed it aside and looked down. He gasped and I knew he'd seen them; yellow patches that used to be bruises decorating my stomach.

“H-He always had to have his way,” I said.

Deaky sighed and brought his lips to one of the patches. He kissed each one as though that was all it would take to heal them fully, and erase the painful memory. Soon after we continued ridding each other of clothing. Deaky might have been a thin and slender lad but that didn't reflect in his length which was a size other men could only dream of.

I moaned  loudly as he pushed into me. “God! Christ!”

“You feel fucking amazing love,” Deaky groaned as he started to move.

I really had chosen wrong but I was now making up for that mistake. Our bodies moved together in perfect rhythm as I knew they would for the rest of our lives. Sometime later, our skin glistening with sweat Deaky erupted inside me, filling me until he had nothing left.

“You are my life now, Deaky,” I whispered snuggling up to him after.

“You've always been my life, Y/N,” he said pressing his lips against my forehead.

We fell asleep and didn't even hear when our warriors returned from the great ogre battle.

“Dammit Freddie you're never wrong,” I heard Roger whisper.

“About love I'm never am,” Freddie said. “You can pay me in the morning. I'm off to bed.”

“I'm never betting against Fred again,” Roger said.

“I never do,” Brian chimed in laughing his soft and gentle laughed.

Eventually the flat was silent, as is every moment after a battle.

Taglist: @okaykathryn​ @fairestkillerqueenofall​ @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @boherahpsody​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @ihatethespacebars​ @madsthegroupie​ @freddie-bulsara​ @rose-de-jaune​ @xxkellsvixen19xx​ @valeriecarolinaw​ @5sos-wdw​ @hearttshapeddboxx​ @fluffffffffffff​ @pleasingiswhatweaimfor​ @hatemylifesofuckingmuch​ @jollyavacado​ @painandpleasure86​ @haileynicoleseavey17​ @queenlover1997​ @rrogerrz​ @peachyywine​ @mrsmazzello​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @zwiezraczek​ @night-writer-writer​ @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever​ @tinywildeace​

[scav-eng-er]

“If Nothing Else, We Have This.” TROS Alternate Ending Part 2/?

okay..so I’m very tired and literally re-wrote the beginning so many times and I’m very tired lol (it’s almost 1 am) But here is the second part of my Alternate TROS Ending! I have an outline for part 3 already and MY REYLO HEART IS SCREAMING. Please be aware that I tried to give Leia the best of the best, so if there is something you guys think I could edit, please let me know. I really hope you guys like this and I am sending hugs and kisses to @reylo-trash-4ever and @mojona1999 because you two are my sweet reylomates and beans and ily <3.

Update: Im so sorry i forgot the first part if anyone needs the link lol sorry im a wreck. 

Part 1:  https://scav-eng-er.tumblr.com/post/190171393259/if-nothing-else-we-have-this-tros-alternate

“Any news from Poe and his team?” 

“Nothing yet General.” 

A wave of worry flushed over General Organa as she watched the makeshift screen blink rapidly. Tiny dots, indicating Poe’s X-wing and the rest of his ships, hovered around the grid, pinpointing their locations out in the battle. Occasionally, a red dot would disappear and across the base, another screen with the profile of the pilot would burn red with large letters titled: Connection failed. The chaos ensued back at the main base and was just as hectic as the actual battlefield. Commands were announced or yelled through holo-coms and com-links while groups from the skies and land asked what the next plan of attack was. More pilots ran around the princess, prepping their fuel tanks and testing their blasters, oblivious to see the exhaustion in her eyes. Technicians gave last minute check-ups on weapons and hurried back  and forth along the forest floor. Lieutenant Connix continued to give orders, her brows furrowed, her eyes flickering back and forth between the many screens. Leia sensed it, both sides were tired. The resistance were on their knees, using their last push of hope to try and defeat Palpatine. But she also sensed doubt in the First Order. In Ben. 

He was confused, hurt and torn. Pulled in different directions. This unknowing in him had already impacted the First Order and their so-called impenetrable power. When she felt him begin to question everything, just a few hours ago, she had finally felt more hope spark in her heart. She felt the heat of his saber as it impaled her son, Rey didn’t miss. Her heart soared when the refreshing feeling of Rey’s life force healed Ben’s wound. Yes, there was still hope. But was it enough?

Would this be enough to finally end it all? 

A sudden pain erupted from Leia’s chest. Sucking in a gasp, she quietly sat on a boulder, hiding her pain from scurrying pilots as they prepped for another take-off, soon to assist wounded comrades at Exegol. Her body was cold, and she felt weak, defeated…dead. Something had happened to Ben, her Ben. Her hand shook as she covered her mouth to prevent the whimpers of her sobs escape. Blinking back tears, and with the last reasonable idea she could think of, she reached out. Out to the one person she knew could help.

“Luke.” She whispered. 

He appeared to her, glowing brighter in the sun. His transparency, in no way hid his happiness to see his sister, aged with time from living her life. Even after all these years, Luke could see how youthful Leia was, her smile was timeless and her strength spanned generations. It inspired those who were now part of the resistance. He had told himself a million times how he wished she had continued her studies. Perhaps the galaxy would’ve turned out different, less pain, less hate. She would’ve saved Ben before Palpatine had even tried to touch him, preventing the world from becoming what it was now.

Yet, here they were, on the precipice of an ending war. The battle happening galaxies away that would determine the outcome of their family, resting on the shoulders of his nephew, her son. 

“It’s time.” Leia stated, her voice calm and strong despite the streaks of tears down her rosy cheeks. She was prepared, ready for this day. Luke sensed it too. He knew just how far a mother would go to save her son. He said nothing, but kneeled down and like so many times before, placed a sweet kiss on his sister’s forehead. Leia closed her eyes, not seeing the few tears making their way down Luke’s cheeks. 

And just as quiet as he arrived, he was gone. 

For the first time, in a very long time, Leia felt at peace. She stood up, no pain in her heart, no worries on her mind. The princess gazed at the base around her. Everything moved in slow motion. The sounds of people and engines droned out. Leia took a step into the sun. It was warm against her skin, as she remembered her life. 

Han, her loving, brave, handsome, and annoyingly-arrogant husband. He had filled her life with laughs, tears and love as they stuck together. He was at peace, she knew that. He had never been upset with Ben, he just missed his son. Their son.

Ben. Her only child who was caught in something so much greater than him. He was used and played with, torn and pulled apart until there was nothing left. Leia knew deep down, her baby Ben was there, waiting. The same Ben who wanted to be a Jedi, who wanted to come with her to meetings and visit as many galaxies as he could. The biggest thing Leia missed was how much he needed her. Ben would never admit to how many times he crawled into her bed after a nightmare, or how he pretended to not miss her when she was away. As a teenager, she saw him pull away, trying to be tough, and hide how scared he was, or that he needed help. She could never forgive herself for ignoring how he practically begged for her in his eyes, as the cold, grimy hands of the Dark Side gripped him by the shoulders. But now, Leia felt like she could still save her son, from everything. She could prove to him how much she loved him. 

She loved how much Ben needed his mother as a child, and now he needed her more than ever. The general’s world went black as she collapsed to the forest floor.

~~~~

Rey played with the hem of Ben’s shirt, the fabric wet with sweat, dirt and blood. He smelled like earth, and Rey realized she had never been this close to know that he smelled so..intoxicating. Every breath she took was so soothing, she couldn’t help but lean in closer. Ben’s eyes never left her, and Rey’s cheeks reddened at how beautiful he made her feel. The comfort in his arms was new, yet felt so familiar that she never wanted to leave. His thumb circled her arm as he held her, and goosebumps scattered down her body.

“So..long..” Rey mumbled, annoyed by how long they had tried to cover it up, or deny just how powerful their feelings for each other really were. This..connection was created before either of them were even born. This attachment and need to be near each other, to be together finally had an explanation behind it. Rey believed this would be the one and only thing she could actually thank their grandparents for. The two mens intertwined fates had curled and twisted. Hate, deceit, years of pain and darkness came to an end with her and Ben, here and now. So yes, she could thank them, for giving her Ben. 

Ben hummed in agreement, “Who knew we could be so..” he trailed off.

“Dumb?” Rey stated.

“I was going to say stubborn!” Ben couldn’t help but laugh, before engulfing her lips once again. Every time Ben kissed her, Rey felt like a bad memory was wiped away. Bit by bit, she was losing more details about her life of Jakku. She already couldn’t remember some scars she got as a child, or the names of rival scavengers who occasionally tried to gang up on her. It felt like he was taking away her pain and grief, replacing it with passionate kisses and featherlight touches she hoped she would never forget. 

They held each other for a few more moments in sweet, silent bliss before Rey interrupted with the lingering statement.

“We have to go back.” 

Ben sighed, “Or we could go…just…leave.” 

There was nothing more Ben wanted to then to just be with Rey. They could anything or nothing and he would be happy. If she wanted to boss him around on the falcon? He would do it without hesitation. If she wanted to settle in the greenest galaxy and continue her training? He would make her stronger than him. 

But the resistance? He would not just be away from Rey, but behind bars, in chains, with every other soul on the planet, maybe the galaxy, wanting him dead. 

“Ben,” She sounded serious, though her voice was quiet. “We’ll figure something out.” She continued to play with his hair. The black, damp curls twisted in her finger and she wondered what he would look like with braids. 

“Leia will help us, reduce your sentence. Banishment to another planet is better than life imprisonment right?” 

Hearing his mother’s name made his heart sink. Could she even look him in the eye? Would she cry? Scream at him? Forgive him? Ben had hurt her so much, he would understand however she reacted. He undoubtedly deserved it. Even so, he wanted to see her, to hear her voice. He pulled Rey’s hand to his lips, giving a heartfelt kiss before nodding.

Her heart beat rapidly in hope. Ben was going home. He was going to see his mother, going to see Chewie…but he would also see the resistance, including Finn, Poe and Rose. Rey didn’t care. She would do anything to prove just how alive Ben Solo was, with the pieces of Kylo Ren dying long ago. 

“Just..no matter what happens, you’ll come back to me right?” He mumbled into her fingers, almost afraid to let go. 

Rey smiled so hard, she could almost laugh. She stood up and pulled him with her, her hands never letting go. Even as he towered over her, he looked worried, his eyes trailing up and down her body, making sure she was still alright, still alive. Rey pulled his attention to her warm eyes.

“Nothing could keep me away. Not even death.” She declared. Standing on her toes, Rey wrapped her arms around Ben as she pulled him to her lips. He felt comfort in her embrace, like she would truly never leave him. Even when he would eventually be pulled from her grasp and thrown in a cell, he knew she would fight for him as hard as she could. They would be separated, of course, by distance, guards, and maybe even Leia. But he could wait, he had been waiting for her his whole life anyway. So many had passed through his life in fleeting increments, he could hardly remember any faces, knowing they would all be there one moment, and gone the next. Rey was solid, sturdy, and there for him, with him. At the end of all this, Ben finally felt like he could belong somewhere, in her arms. 

The two pulled apart when the noise of battle erupted the from the skies and shook the ground beneath their feet. They ran back to the surface, forgetting the pain they had just endured, ready to take on the next adventure together. 

Rey burst through the stars in the X-wing, Ben seated behind her. They danced among the falling debris as it crashed back onto Exegol. He watched as Palpatines undead fleet fell, returning to their graves. Feeling his darkness fall with them, a small smile grew as he said goodbye to the shadows that had trapped him in. Feeling light as a feather, Ben settled into his seat. His eyelids were heavy, and he suddenly felt so tired that he just couldn’t stay awake. As he felt himself drift to sleep, he could vaguely hear the voices and shouts from Rey’s helmet comlink, screams of victory as everyone announced the First Order had officially fallen. 

[wiseabsol]

20 Mewtwo Fanfics Recs

Since I’ve been getting more Mewtwo asks recently, I thought I would make a post to promote some of the Mewtwo fics that have caught my eye over the years. Here is a round-up of the ones that were the most memorable and influential to me when I was growing up, as well as some that look promising for other fans to check out!

MEMORABLE FICS:

1. Damaged by Cheshire Kat24

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8906040/1/Damaged

Summary: Living life to its fullest is never easy. A lesson Mewtwo learns the hard way after sustaining an injury that even his abilities cannot heal without help. With his new friends, he embarks on a journey that will define not only his place in the world, but that of his entire species.

My thoughts: While I never managed to read the entire story, this is a classic and was probably the first long, multi-chapter story with Mewtwo as the lead.

2. Shadows Like You by cosmicmewtwo

Link: Not available, though you can hit her up on Tumblr for the file.

Summary: Driven by his hunger for power, Giovanni creates three new Mewtwos. The clones seem to be under control...but for how long? And how will Mewtwo himself be affected?

My thoughts: This was incredibly influential to my writing, being a huge part of the inspiration behind “TPRS.” The Mewthrees introduced here were great and I checked every day for updates until this fic was complete. As a humorous aside, when I was a wee lass with barely any fic to my name, I sent cosmicmewtwo a message asking if I could use Mewthree characters in my own story, without realizing that cosmicmewtwo didn’t own that concept. She, bless her heart, confusedly told me to go ahead with my story and supported some of my earliest fics.

3. Anomaly by Dark Magician Girl Aeris

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3173119/1/Anomaly

Summary: When Mewtwo erased his memory from the minds of Team Rocket, he overlooked the computers they used in studying him. Now a second member of the race has been created by even more unorthodox means than the first. And boy, is she mad!

My thoughts: Aeris is excellent at writing Mewtwo, to the point where this is probably the most canon-compliant depiction of him that I’ve come across. This adventure story is also well-written and has a lot of feel-good moments. I wish that she’d managed to finish it, but what she has, along with the connected one-shots, is worth digging into.

4. The Sword and Shield Series by Kayasuri-n

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3535877/1/Sword-and-Shield

Summary: Detective Brenda Johnson was looking for something suspicious when she entered the lab, not a connection between Team Rocket and gym leader Giovanni Rocketto. She certainly wasn’t expecting Mewtwo. Rated M for Murder and other subjects.

My thoughts: So if you’re looking for a super fun murder mystery ride, this one is for you! I still desperately want to see what the remake would look like. That said, there are several entries in the old series, all of which are great.

5. More Than Just Shadow by Kirlien

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3602934/1/More-Than-Just-Shadow

Summary: Amy was sitting quietly on the doublebed, watching over the wounded Pokémon. “Mewtwo…What are you?…Who are you?” she whispered faintly, her fingers brushing against his cheek slightly in a soothing motion.

My thoughts: I remember this fic for how it captured the golden feeling of innocence in the Pokemon franchise. While dark things were happening in this story, there was a sense of warmth and compassion that I’ve always admired. This is another one that I wish had been finished, but what is here is worth digging into.

6. Between Two Worlds by Leonardo Mystic

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/505048/1/Between-Two-Worlds

Summary: Ki is a teenage girl with special powers. Who one day accidentally discovers the Team Rocket project of Mewtwo. 

My thoughts: This was one of the first Mewtwo fics I ever read and was the most memorable in the romance category. I’d call it one of the classics and an interesting rewrite of the original movie. 

7. Forgotten by Melora Maxwell

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/926885/1/Forgotten

Summary: The humans have a most strange saying. Curiosity killed the cat. I suppose in my case, it would be curiosity killed the clone. For it is what I am.

My thoughts: This one was responsible for the genesis of “Angelic Shadows.” It’s angsty and, despite being lean in the way of descriptions, it has a strong emotional impact. It’s a shame that it never got an ending, because it seems like it was within a few chapters of being complete. Even so, if you like gritty, this is a good one to look into.  

8. Eclipsed by Meriah

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4468231/1/Eclipsed

Summary: A young woman named Sutichay carries Arei, a miraculous child, whose birth will bring about a religious conflict. Later in the chaos, Arei is made the priestess of Mewtwo, and her growing attraction to him stirs the anger of Sabrina, his wife.

My thoughts: While this fic only has a few chapters, the premise is imagination, the writing is lovely, and it deserved more attention than it received. This was also the inspiration for my story “Hollow.” When Meriah discarded the original prologue for “Eclipsed,” she allowed me to use it—and the character Arei—as a jumping off point for my own story. The result was two very different tales with similar thematic cores.

9. The Incomplete Soul Saga by Miyuutsuu

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/888889/Miyuutsuu

Summary: What is my true purpose in life?

My thoughts: If you’re looking for more grit, we have this odd series by Miyuutsuu, who wrote his stories with the Rule of Cool. Want Mewtwo to have a sword? An angsty romance with a gym leader? Possibly some loss of limbs? Then here you go! It’s a dark action/adventure story with a different flavor than anything else on this list.

10. Of Moonlight Shadows and Echoes Past by ZeoViolet

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/620186/1/Of-Moonlight-Shadows-and-Echoes-Past

Summary: A Psychic teenager named Sharie, daughter of one of Mewtwo’s creators, finds a baby Mewtwo Giovanni forgot about…and eventually, runs into Mewtwo himself.

My thoughts: This was my favorite Mewtwo fic and one that I still think of fondly. The writing is lush, the premise is solid, and I definitely wanted to see where it would have gone. It’s another classic of the fandom.  

11. If You Let Me by Byoshi

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4129309/1/If-You-Let-Me

Summary: Every Pokemon Smasher must have a master, and the rule is no different for Mewtwo. A tug-of-war begins between Peach and Ganondorf, conflicted but united in their attempt to use Mewtwo to overthrow Master Hand.

My thoughts: I don’t have much to say about this one, other than I really enjoyed it, found the premise intriguing, and wished I could have seen more of the central relationship in it. Sadly, like many of these entries, it was discontinued.

PROMISING FICS:

These are fics that I haven’t actually read, but appear to have pull in the fandom and have definitely had a lot of hard work put into them.

12. Mute, Too by FalconPain

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3931388/1/Mute-Too

Summary: After losing a battle to the dark Pokémon Darkrai, Mewtwo awakens to find that he no longer has his psychic abilities. No longer able to float, read minds, or even talk to humans or Pokémon, he must rebuild his life. But how much of this can he take?

13. Forsaken by lilpurplebird

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5842142/1/Forsaken

Summary: Being a Legendary isn’t always a good thing—they realized that too late when the world came to an end. Mercifully, they were given another chance, but at a cost: They had agreed in a previous life to become mortal should they have failed to uphold their duties. Unbeknownst to them, however, there is a dark power lying in wait, targeting Mew and Mewtwo to do its dirty work…

14. Crossing of the Paths by MMMAJ Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1252581/1/Crossing-of-the-Paths

Summary: Mewtwo can no longer stand living with humans, so he creates a dimensional portal and randomly wanders the web of infinite universes. This is the tale of the places he sees and the people he meets. 

15. Lines in the Sand by Shinymonkey8

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6847646/1/Lines-in-the-Sand

Summary: After finally escaping from Giovanni, Mewtwo has a chance to live his life free, and sadly alone… But when fate leads him to something he would have never expected, a female of his own species, his life is turned upside-down…. 

16. Human, Monster, Hybrid Series by TheFrogFromHell

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3082844/1/Human

Summary: When Mewtwo lured six trainers into his trap on New Island, he’d planned to begin his reign of terror on the human world. He hadn’t planned on being nearly destroyed by the battle that ensued, or on being nursed back to health by a human—a member of the species he’d despised enough to want to eradicate from the earth. Now, Mewtwo is torn between his hatred for his creators, and the new, mysterious emotions he feels for Misty, the human that saved his life. One again, his true purpose is in question: will he still choose to destroy the world, or will these unfamiliar insights change the way Mewtwo views humans, pokémon, and even himself. 

17. From Dark To Light by Whozawhatcha

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7659746/1/From-Dark-To-Light

Summary: Mewtwo falls for a Gardevoir, but hesitates to reveal any of his past to her, considering the circumstances. However, his past and Team Rocket do catch up to him, and how will they manage? And with strife with this Gardevoir’s mother, how will they continue to be together? What are her true motives for keeping her daughter from this mysterious pokemon?

18. The Mewblade Series by Vaporeon Lugia Krabby

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2967855/1/Her-Beginning

Summary: Welcome to the real complexity of the Pokemon World. Here we experience the full extent of this world alongside Mewblade, a Mewthree. This prologue introduces Mewblade, following the beginnings of Mewtwo. This opens a larger plot, full of depth and death.

Note: While this isn’t a Mewtwo-centric fic, it has been a prominent work in the fandom for ages.

SOME CAUTIOUS SMUT RECS:

So looking up Mewtwo smut can be dicey, since many of the writers of said smut tend to prefer dub-con or non-con scenes, with Mewtwo being a dominant alpha male/sexually-aggressive character. This can be triggering for some readers. The following two stories are not exactly exceptions to that pattern (well, “The Mewtwo File” is, but I have different qualms about it), but the romance in them helps to mellow them out.

19. The Mewtwo File by Alisonven

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4200365/1/The-Mewtwo-File

Summary: This is the story of the young clone Mewtwo and Aiko, his only human friend, the daughter of his creator.

My thoughts: This is a well-written story and has some good Mewtwo/Ai content in it, albeit features an AU version of them. That said, I have qualms about the sex in here, thanks to the difference between Mewtwo’s and Aiko’s psychological maturities. Aiko is clearly an adult, while Mewtwo reads more like a teenager. Some readers were fine with that; I felt squicked. There is also a casual use of sexual assault in a later chapter, so be aware of that going into this.

20. Primial Instinct by Sonic Sunshine

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3486169/1/Primial-Instinct

Summary: Mewtwo tells us the story of how he found and nearly lost love through his eyes. His journey of discovery is one filled with dilemmas, and even the most powerful Pokemon is helpless to stop it. Mewtwo x Lucario.

My thoughts: There are also casual uses of sexual assault in this, including from Mewtwo, which I wasn’t keen on. That being said, this is well-written and the central relationship is interesting, so who knows, it might scratch the yaoi itch for those of you who love the genre.

[julieta-ravencrest]

Kyosky

CW/TW: Attempted suicide, Torture 

A shattered blade was all her eyes could take in. The damned blade that held a shred of her soul for so long, always calling to her, never letting her suffering end. The ascent through this frozen keep did not do her well. Kyosky thought that facing her ruiner head-on with the army of champions would let her breath, to help ease knowing that she was no longer under the Lich King’s control. She was denied that chance.

A sect of champions had taken to the blood halls, the San’layn stood watch over all here. Defeating the three brothers had not gone well and they had lost a fair amount of soldiers to their magicks. As Kyosky raced through the halls towards Lanathel, countless steps in sync with her, she felt a confidence that had long been stifled. They could do this. What was one queen against an army? 

Yet again, she had been wrong. She could not do it, the Death Knight had been gravely wounded. Her comrades decimated by the time they managed to strike down the vampyr. Ariather raced to her side, attempting to hide the fear in her eyes. They had known one another for so long, the paladin would not let this be the end. 

“Tend to the wounded, all soldiers in favorable condition, march on. You must make it to the throne.” The paladin commanded the gathered champions. A priest or paladin here and there stayed briefly to call upon the lights' healing powers. Ariather had hoisted her up and began a slow descent to where they all started at the gates of the Citadel. 

“Leave me you blasted elf. Your skills are better suited for the battle with Arthas.” Kyosky forced the words out, a cough forcing its way out of her throat. Though Ari had mended her slightly in the Blood Halls, if she was to recover, she knew the paladin would stay behind. She had after all been the only one of their group who managed to sooth the Death Knights beaten soul. 

Ever trying to keep a light mood, Ariather huffed a small laugh, “My shining personality will be missed, yes. However, Keltius can make up for that for me. They will be fine. I know it.” Her statement received a roll of eyes from her patient. Always thinking of that warrior of hers. She would feign a gag if it wouldn’t agitate her injury.

-    -    -    -    - 

Few remained in the lower halls. Injured and sentries scattered about. Ariather had brought her to an alcove off to the side. The privacy did nothing.

She felt it, his victory. Frostmourne ripped at her soul, eliciting a violent scream of torment. 

“Kyo please, he can’t take you, you’re free!” Ariather read her easily. 

Arthas had defeated all those champions. The best Azeroth had, snuffed out like a candle. His voice echoed through their minds. 

“Watch now as I raise them from the dead to become masters of the Scourge. They will shroud this world in chaos and destruction. Azeroth’s fall will come at their hands-- and you will be the first to die.”

He knew what this would mean for those in his citadel. They would hear these words, scratching at their minds as he spoke them to Tirion. They had all fallen and he was resurrecting them as he once had to her own soul.

That invisible chain yanked at her again, Kyosky arched her back in agony, her piercing scream echoing through the hall. All who stayed behind froze as she was tortured. No physical pain would ever overtake the pain of a soul being ripped. Frostmourne called for more of her as she remained so close. 

She would never escape him, would never know a shred of peace, so long as he ruled on his frozen throne. Ariather continually spending her precious power of the light trying to heal both physical and spiritual wounds. “Don’t you dare give up, you can’t leave me.” The paladin had begun sobbing as she saw her friend suffer, seeing in Kyosky’s eyes that she was giving up. It would be so easy to let him take control once more. She would not know pain or suffering under his grasp. The paladins actions were the only thing keeping her from letting go. She would not abandon Ariather again, let alone force the paladin to fight her own friend. 

There was a shift, sudden yet soft. The strain ebbed away, letting her shattered soul rest. Something or someone had pulled through for the fallen champions atop Icecrown. Ariather stiffened, she too could tell something changed. 

“Tirion. Tirion is still alive! I can feel the Lights guidance Kyo, he’s saved them. Everyone is fine, you are fine.” As she spoke, she grasped Kyosky’s hand, squeezing it and bringing it to her face. 

The Death Knight strained, forcing her way upright despite Ariather’s protests. “Take me to them. Now Aria.” Her name for the paladin alone, she could see the shock wash over the elfs face at the mention.

Stammering response incoherent, a simple nod. They worked their way to the transporter at the entrance, it’s icy magic swirling calmly, they were gone.

He was defeated, the helm… gone. No, Fordragon now sat on the throne. Entombed in ice, helm of domination upon his head. Tirion addressed all those gathered, all champions of Azeroth.

“Heroes, the Lich King we know is no more. The time of our victory has come but know this. The world must not know what happened here. There must always be a Lich King. Bolvar Fordragon has taken the mantle and will control what remains of the scourge army. You must not speak of what transpired other than Arthas’ defeat.” His voice commanded respect and obedience from those around him. 

No one dared step into the center of the open chamber. Arthas’ lifeless body remained for now. Frostmourne shattered around him. 

Kirin Tor mages opened rifts back to Dalaran, portalling any who stepped forward out of the citadel. Few remained. Mostly Death Knights and Paladins, those who were greatly affected by Arthas. All spoke in varying levels of light knows what, she cared not. 

The Death Knight looked around her immediate space. Julieta, Aradia, Ariather, Laesneniel, all stood close by. A Draenei walked up to the last, Aveena. While horde and alliance they were, no fighting would ensue. This was a trusted group. One she did not feel she should be seeing. 

She looked out to the mountains of Icecrown, looked to the descending towers around them. She took a step towards the edge of the open platform. Ariather’s attention immediately broken from her current conversation and trained on her friend. 

“Kyo… what is it?” Caution.

A cold smile formed on her face. “Arthas is defeated. Frostmourne shattered. I should be able to return from this citadel with a new life. Yet why do I still hear whispers. Faint, so very faint. Ones I have never heard before. I can never live a normal life, even in my undeath.” Another step.

The paladin mirrored her step. Her arm slowly rising towards her, “Kyosky please.”

She would hear none of it, “What does it matter if I can’t be free. My soul is broken, mine again but broken. Yet still spoken to. By who?” Her voice raised, “What is the point? There is NOTHING holding me here.”

Her words struck those around her, pain hitting Ariathers eyes. Julieta’s keen eyes watching the Death Knights every move, every muscle twinge. Her fingers signalled, a motion missed by any not watching. Forsanna, her Mist Bat, the only one watching for such a move. The Bat was poised, knowing she would need to act quickly.

“Ariather. My closest friend. You have worried about me for so long, ever since you found me again. You have a life to live though, one not spent doting on my broken pieces. Keltius is waiting for you. The time has come for you to move on from me.” Full realization hit the paladin and spurred her to rush forward, the Night Elf and Draenei too far back to assist. 

Kyosky fell back. Embracing the void below her. It did not come. Julieta gave her final motion to Forsanna, right as the Death Knight made her move. Aradia was already using her magic, in a blink she was closing in the gap. She flung a spell at the plummeting Elf, slowing her fall just enough for Forsanna to swoop in and grab her in her claws. Though she was safe, the bat had to descend to the lower reaches of the Citadel, the weight too great to fly upward.

Kyosky sat alone in a room in Dalaran, windows magically sealed, door locked, and her armor and weapons stripped from her. Ariather was furious with her. Shouting from below sailed up, occasionally shifting into wailing. 

She had woken up in Aradia’s room. Bandages covering her chest, a light linen shirt hiding them from sight. Trousers covered her scarred legs. Simple clothes for someone back from battle… and imprisoned in this room. They were giving her no out.

The whispering had faded to a dull, almost inaudible hum. The further from the peak of Icecrown Citadel, the quieter they became. It must be Bolvar, her only thought on what could be occurring. 

Faint steps interrupted any coming thoughts. The door clicked open and shut again. 

Aradia entered.

“Good to see you came to. Your injuries and the brief fall were enough to put you out for three days.” She paused, furrowing her brows. “You hurt her Kyo. I’ve never seen her so bad. She’s practically your sister.”

The flirtatious, irritating mage was gone. She had gone serious upon seeing Kyosky awake. 

She couldn’t conjure up sorrow in her face for the paladin, not while she could still feel the phantom pain of her soul being ripped out again. “She would be fine without me.”

A sign breathed out of Aradia’s mouth, “Kyo, she wouldn’t. I know you would laugh in the face of love now but even Keltius hasn’t been able to calm her. Please think about at least her next time you try to off yourself. I understand we can’t know what you’ve gone through and are still going through… but if you're not going to think of all of us, think of her. She will always be there to help you.” Aradia didn’t wait for a response. With a waved hand, she conjured up a small platter of food and drink. “I will bring better food in a little, Julie is cooking now. Eat. It’s not a suggestion.” She turned and was through the door as the command finished leaving her lips.

Once she was alone, she truly was left with her thoughts. Despite her words to the mage, they were a lie now that she faced them in full. She felt sorrow for her friend. Yes, her actions were indeed selfish, spurred on by years of torment. Wishing for it all to just stop. She could never truly be alive again. She had to speak with Ariather. 

She stood up, impressed with how thorough the paladins healing had been this time around. She spared no expense, the exhaustion that must have taken her to do so well. Kyosky smiled a little at the thought. Opening the door, no runes blocking it anymore, she began working her way down the mages home to the central floor. She could hear various hushed voices and one that sniffled here and there in her sentences. Ariather.

Kyosky made sure not to silence her steps, to not catch her friends off guard. Their chatter did not stop, only the weeping paladin hushed. She was seated on a plush couch, Keltius gently holding her shoulders, Aradia perched on the arm next to him. Julieta stood to the side. They all wore some semblance of more civilian clothes, armor cast off while able to have the city comforts. 

Unsure what to say in front of them all, Ariather and Aradia, the only ones meeting her eyes. Though she knew the others were keenly aware of her presence. She shuffled down the last steps and focussed on Ariather. Giving a small smile and nodding back towards the stairs, clearing her throat of the tightness that took over. 

Her signal was all her friend needed. She went to stand up but Keltius held her in a comforting embrace for a moment, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Whispered words of affection shared between the two, their hands not separating until she was too far away and they fell apart. Keltius stern gaze taking in the Death Knight that caused his love so much pain. He would not forget this yet she knew he would not hold it against her so long as Ariather was helped. 

As Ariather closed the distance, she grabbed Kyoskys hand. Squeezing gently and tugging back to the stairs. The paladin stole a glance back at Keltius, her love and comfort of this world. Kyosky was truly grateful for his presence.

No words were exchanged as Ariather led them up the winding stairs, lavender flames casting shadows across their faces. As they reached the landing, they continued straight into a parlor, forgoing the use of the mages room this time. 

  Books covered the main wall, some magically suspended as if frozen in time where Aradia had been reading. Lounge chairs carefully placed to follow the sunlight

         They sat on a chair, saying nothing for the moment. It seemed like Ariather was taking in her friend. Making sure she hadn't missed any wounds. The long silence grew unbearable for Kyosky, knowing she needed to speak, but letting her friend take time to know she was well enough.

After what seemed to be an eternity, she decided to finally speak, though the words clung to her throat. "Aria… forgive me. I know I thought only of what I was going through-"

         The paladin lunged forward and hugged her tight. She slowly raised her arms and gently pressed them on her friends back in return.

Ariather spoke, her voice a rasp after her days spent crying or yelling, "Kyo never be sorry. I would do anything to take this pain away from you. Light damn that wretched citadel and it's master. You were… you ARE still a wonderful friend. I will always be there for you should you feel like it's all slipping away, like you are slipping away. I will reach into whatever void tried to take you and pull you back." Her words were soft and caring.

The Death Knight’s resolve broke, she embraced Ariather tightly, shedding tears no other would ever see. “I am blessed by all beings to have you Aria, I will not forget again.” 

After a short time, the two pulled back and smiled at each other. Ariather’s red eyes puffy, if Kyosky’s blood flowed the same, she might look the part as well. 

        They spoke of the many things that transpired before they found themselves reunited again at Light's Hope. Talking of life late into the night until the paladin, who had shifted to using her friends lap to lay while talking, had finally drifted off. 

Kyosky carefully managed to stand, carrying her friend to the room across from Aradias. She gently placed her on the bed and walked to the door. She hesitated for a moment but did not look back. Carefully closing the door, she breathed out. A small calm settled on her, she had not known a moment of peace in years. The Death Knight silently thanked the Light, of who she had not heard since her fall. Her vow to herself to trust her friend beyond all others, for she had stood by her side in her darkest hours.