#and i had no idea it had been so extensive a thing or that rose was old enough to remember it

[fictionadventurer]

Current level of Little House nerd: Internally freaking out because Rose wrote a short story based on their time in Florida which means we have filled in the last remaining major gap in the Ingalls-Wilder family fictional timeline.

#little house #laura ingalls wilder #rose wilder lane #it should be noted that i haven't read the story yet #just flipping past the intro was enough to get me excited #it could be garbage #but their florida sojourn has long been a fascinating trivia bit #and i had no idea it had been so extensive a thing or that rose was old enough to remember it #of course the other major gap is burr oak #but there is a modern book about that #and the little house sampler also seems to have a nonfic piece by laura about that time #which from the title sounds surprisingly positive #given that she refused to include that part of her life in fiction

[madkiska]

watching the entirety of jrwi: riptide again. here's some important things from the first few episodes that I feel we forgot (<110 mentions too though)

Jay

Had night terrors similar to those of Kubakinta's curse in episode 5, and they eventually start returning even after Loffinlot's curse is lifted ○ All of them were about her family and/or the navy ○ I simply think people leave her out of the nightmare stuff and she deserves it. Hurt her more, please (he said, lovingly)

was actually very upset at having to use her medal to get a Loffinlot rebellion to shut up ○ This could be because she didn't want them to guess she was a spy, but I choose to believe it's because she felt guilty

"If you're gonna be sailing with someone, you should have a good relationship with them. [nervous chuckle]." She says, while asking him for information about the Black Rose Pirates (ep. 10)

Said "thank god they didn't find me" after a nightmare about the navy attacking. Even when she was supposedly a spy, who one day would have to return to the navy ○ Very unclear if she was scared of her dad, or if it's because she was a secret spy so the navy would've just killed her

Rewatching, she was suspiciously into the plundering and gold and stuff. Like that was real sus. It doesn't fit her current character much

The only one among them who's gambled before

Chip

The entire thing literally starts off with Bizly holding a lit match

Called Gillion "Gill" and Jay "Sureshot" from an early stage

Was SO much more of a bastard. Lied to Gill constantly, didn't care about anything but the money, etc.

Had aggressive hand tremors alongside Jay's night terrors ○ Gill cures it with lay on hands

When he gets drunk married, they talk extensively about how he'd be released when he's dead. Welp.

They did actually break up and it was fine and they were still friends. They parted on good terms

Is really fucking good at chess ○ Beat Earl twice and Jay once. Jay had a point of exhaustion after a nightmare but Earl had no excuse ○ Lost to Gillion though, but only cause of prophetic screwup ○ This kid is smarter than he lets on, y'all

Was the first one to have a backstory dump while Jay is asking him about the Black Rose Pirates, yet still we know jack shit about his life before them other than "orphan"

Gill

Charlie has referred to Gillion with 'they' many times. I can pull receipts.

When describing Gill, Charlie said: "He's more.. elven, if you had to make a comparison. 'Cause I don't wanna be a fish guy". Oh, honey.

Smote a bald person by using his hair as a whip (ep. 4)

Was given anxiety and self-doubt alongside jay's night terrors and chip's tremors ○ "What do you want?" "I want the feeling of satisfaction I've been chasing my whole life." ○ This was episode FIVE.

First mention of the prophecy and how Gillion wasn't their ideal student is ep. 7, after he divine smites + prophetic screwups and deals like 60 damage to some beetles ○ Chip spends the next 30 seconds in gay awe

He refers to the crescent moon Niklaus tattoo as "my zodiac" (probably a bit) ○ It's not a lil basic white girl moon this thing is the entire size of his forearm

Gill had never heard about the Black Sea - it's unclear if the Undersea just don't know, or if that's just how sheltered he was (ep. 10)

Biz: "What would Gillion do. If he just had no goal - was just sitting there." "Gillion always has a goal." "Would his goal ever be to just.. Sit there?" "Absolutely not." ○ Later, Chip expresses that he doesn't know what Gillion likes. What he would want out of winning a bet. Gillion doesn't have an answer

Other

Apple, in a couple of early battles, acted like Gill's familiar (see: ep. 7)

They also pecked at his Niklaus tramp stamp and looked all confused at the idea of eating seeds

The specific crescent of the moon in the Niklaus tattoo is known as a symbol of "corruption" (ep. 9) and its antonym is the sun, for "life", similar to the yin and yang ○ Interesting to consider after what the tree said in 110 <_<

Pretzel has a masters degree in couple's therapy (ep. 10)

The Albatross/Millennium Chipper was described as the colour of rosewood or mahogany

Captain Lizzie's first introduction was a wanted poster, and Chip wanted to turn her in for the prize, then decided to try learn from her instead

Chip/Bizly called Old Man Earl "Erol" for a loooong time ○ Maybe it's an accent thing but I have an uncle called Erol and so this stands out to me

#I have lots of thoughts about all of this #jay also got her gun in like ep 1 but didnt use it for ages #idk. it's unclear with the combat in the beginning. she just says “shoot”. i love her anyway #jay the kinda girl to have a “no boys” sign up but then when she meets chip and gill she changes it to “son boy” like that one meme #theyre all my favourite character #not art #jrwi riptide #jrwi show #jrwi jay #jrwi chip #jrwi gillion #jay ferin #chip bastard #gillion tidestrider #jrwi #just roll with it #just roll with it show #just roll with it riptide

[lucysarah-c]

Not in season?

Summary: Winter had settled in, and the scouts were busy training and preparing for the prospects of spring, still far away, to retake Wall Maria. Despite the snow accumulating outside, the building was freezing cold, and the world had secluded itself until the temperature rose. So, why was Captain Levi boiling in his own body? Something felt off, but his mind was quickly slipping into insanity as he tried to find a rational explanation. Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. I'm self-conscious about my smut, so… practice makes perfect. That's it. In case I forget any warning or tag, feel free to remind me. Pairing: Levi x fem! reader. Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Levi Ackerman, Top Levi Ackerman, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Possessive Levi Ackerman, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Knotting, Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, Breeding, Forced breeding, Biting, Breeding Kink, dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Forced Pregnancy, Unsafe Sex, Nurse reader, Alpha Levi x Omega reader, Captain Levi Ackerma, Captain Levi x Nurse Reader, Dirty talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Alpha Hange Zoë, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Erwin Smith, Alpha Eren Yeager, Alpha Jean Kirstein, Alpha Mikasa Ackerman. Omegaverse. Word count: 8.6k words of pure porn. You had been warned lmao

Saliva accumulated in his mouth, pooling before he spat it into the sink. The rush of water from the tap washed away the residue as he continued spitting and splashing his face with cold water. A sense of uneasiness clouded his mind, lingering like the scent of smoke. He had showered, shaved, tidied his hair, cleaned under his nails, changed clothes, and brushed his teeth. What else was there to do?

A thick, almost sticky sensation coated his mouth, as if he had a stomach ache without the actual pain. Despite the cold weather, sweat formed on his forehead as he pushed the dark hairs out of the way, splashing his face with freezing water once more. Perhaps it was due to his inability to concentrate on work since early morning, causing him to pace around the room like a caged lion.

Correction, he did have a stomach ache, but he couldn't quite pinpoint the source or if it was even physically painful. It felt more uncomfortable than painful. Waves of acidic heat started in his groin and spread throughout his body. He had already consumed three cups of tea by 9 am. When he crossed paths with Erwin in the higher-ups' kitchen, the commander questioned him, noting the honey in all the teas. Unusual for him. Both of them were extremely busy, their minds preoccupied elsewhere. The commander didn't have time for extensive questioning, yet Levi couldn't shake off the extremely unpleasant sensation that Erwin's presence was the most annoying and irritating thing he had encountered.

"I'm craving something sweet," he added curtly, hoping it would suffice. It was true; he felt the need for something soft, sweet, cute, filling, and warm. He was irritable, easily bothered by Eren and Jean's silly actions during early practice. The display of youthful hormones and their desperate need for attention and dominance grated on his nerves. Oddly enough, he had grown accustomed to them and their displays of testosterone.

Newly presented alphas always behaved that way—baring teeth, growing, and fighting. Their disinterested and desperate cries for attention garnered no reaction from fully grown alphas. They were closer to pups playing pretend, training for future occasions in their lives than actual threats. Levi was sure of it, both as a mature alpha and as a high-bred one. Usually, the two boys only annoyed him with their strong, uncontrolled scents and nothing more.

However, that morning marked the moment he sensed something was off. Eren's insistence on asserting his dominance over the Kirstein boy with his scent almost prompted Levi to interfere, baring his teeth and loudly declaring that he was the one in charge. It had never struck him in this way before, these two newly presented boys. On the contrary, in previous instances, it had strengthened his sense of responsibility and paternal instinct, correcting their behaviour when he felt the need to show them the right way to behave. The captain secretly blamed that time spent alone with his squad in the cabin or Eren's fresh presentation under his watch at the former HQ.

Women usually precede such occurrences, they naturally present earlier than boys. So the Ackerman girl must have sensed something, her penetrating dark eyes never leaving his figure during training. Levi's suspicions were confirmed as soon as he called it a day and left. He could no longer bear it.

“Finishing so early?” Erwin inquired when they crossed paths again. The taller man wrinkled his nose slightly but stood in place, demanding an answer.

“I feel like shit,” Levi spat out, giving his back to the taller man as he stopped on his way but refused to face the commander.

“I see,” Erwin replied before adding, “consider going to get checked by the nurse.”

Levi clenched his teeth irrationally. Once again, the blond’s presence felt utterly annoying. 'I know! I can smell it all over you,' he thought.

“She’s at her station. I just came from there as she was checking my arm,” Erwin explained calmly, obviously not considering a deeper topic. “Y/N is young, but she’s very-”

The commander was cut off mid-sentence as Levi turned over his shoulder, deadly piercing eyes, and hissed at the taller alpha. Erwin stood in place, denying the idea of backing up as he kept his eyes glued to the shorter soldier, completely confused. “Did you just hiss at me?”

Levi shook his head, as if trying to snap some sense into his brain. “Fuck, sorry,” he said, then returned to his pace, feeling the judging blue eyes of his superior stuck to the back of his head.

He contorted in pain, bending over his desk as his body burned. His skin felt as if it were boiling in his own blood. Saliva filled his mouth, his jaw clenched with uncontrolled tension. "Too many," his sharpened senses detected the repugnant stench of too many competitors surrounding him.

The military was full with Alphas, lower or higher breed, but most of the members were either that or betas. Omegas weren’t allowed, at least no at the main activity divisions. More appropriate positions were reserved for them if they desire or unless they were low quality breeds, in order to avoid creating unnecessary commotion during their heats.

"I don't understand," Levi cursed under his breath as he contorted in pain, his body drenched in sweat. He slumped against the desk chair, tilting his head back as ragged breaths escaped his accelerated mouth. Ruts were something that had almost disappeared since he joined the military, and he was grateful for that. Without constant exposure to the presence of omegas, most purebred alphas reduced their ruts to near non-existence. Nature was wise—why waste energy and precious seed when there was nobody to claim? It was better to save it for a worthy occasion. Yes, there were perhaps a couple of instances when his body experienced reactions during particular seasons, but they were easily manageable.

This, however, was all-consuming. It began and ended with each breath that left his lips.

"Fuck, it's like I'm 18 all over again," he cursed, recalling previous ruts. The muscles in his legs twitched and contorted as he spread them apart. Every fibre, hair, and cell in his body strained, expanded, tightened, and prepared with ecstasy at the idea of "Fight, win, dominate, claim, breed, and secure." All of these required him to be exceptional.

Levi had always been fearful of confessing to anyone, but being an Ackerman and an alpha was quite the combination. The Ackerman powers granted individuals increased strength, agility, and combat prowess. When combined with an alpha's innate physical abilities during a rut, an Ackerman alpha became an even more formidable force. Their already heightened strength and endurance would be further amplified, allowing them to excel in protecting their pack and omega.

The Ackerman powers also enhanced an individual's senses, including perception and reflexes. This heightened sensory awareness complemented an alpha's already acute sense of smell during a rut. The combination resulted in an alpha with incredibly sharp instincts, capable of swiftly detecting danger or sensing the presence of a compatible omega.

In conclusion, every inch of his body was working diligently to find a suitable partner. His fingers reached for the cravat around his neck, loosening the pressure and seeking some relief. The cold leather of the chair briefly provided a deceptive sense of calmness until it warmed up and clung to his body. Two, three buttons were undone, and the air within the office began to thicken with his own pheromones as his neck became exposed. These were shameful actions that his body performed of its own accord, attempting to attract a potential mate.

Dry chuckles reverberated in his chest as he contemplated the absurdity of it all. "I'm humanity's strongest soldier. I fought the entire MPs to put a queen on the throne. I don't need to produce a bunch of hormonal shit to show an interested partner that I'm strong enough." Because that's what his body was doing—it was a display, a show, a performance, almost, of virility, strength, and power.

The idea of being dominated by the very thing he was supposed to control made him shudder. He wasn't just any alpha; he was Levi Ackerman, the clean freak who prided himself on maintaining order and discipline. Yet here he was, a mere pawn in nature's cruel game. "Fucking biology," he growled under his breath as if cursing the very laws that governed him. He knew what he had to do, but it felt like betrayal. His mind screamed at him to resist, to fight against the urge but little he could do.

Hange was quick to slap the door open, enthusiastic, and wrinkled their nose at the odour inside. They covered their mouth and nose with their hands, the stink being too much to bear.

"God, get your shit together, shorty!" they replied almost immediately. “Fuck, I can even feel the pheromones in my mouth,”

Levi groaned uncomfortably before adding, "You think it was something I could control, I wouldn't just do it?" He spat out his words, contorting uneasily in the chair.

"I came because Erwin mentioned that you cancelled training earlier. Well, this just makes sense," the brunette paced around the room, keeping their distance. As an Alpha themselves, with a strong bond of camaraderie between them, the titan lover understood the other's need. "You seem too far into the rut already for me to give you something to shut it down."

Another uneasy groan escaped Levi; this was not happy news.

"You'll have to deal with it like a big boy. I could give you something to make you more docile…"

"Fuck it," he quickly complained, being docile and Levi weren't two words that mixed well.

"Yeah," Hange chuckled as they kneeled next to the desk to inspect the short man better. "I thought you'd say that…"

Brown eyes fixed on Levi as if he were Eren during an experiment. "What?" Levi quickly snapped, feeling too much under scrutiny.

"… may I see your fangs? I've never seen you bare them, and now that you've admitted with the whole Kenny stuff to be an Ackerman, I'm curious how they look."

He bared his teeth; he was no subject of tests. "Fuck off," he replied, clearly irritable, but the brunette laughed as the sight was there for them to behold.

"There they are… god, they are huge. Poor omega… that's why only their bodies are meant to support the mating," While Hange insisted on inspecting the Captain and rambling about biological details and dynamics, the other poor alpha of the room was dying of heat. His body wasn't taking it easy that he wasn't collaborating willingly to go out there and search for a mate, especially when he had allowed another alpha inside his territory. "Talking about omegas," Hange picked up the topic after their rambling, "who have you been around with to trigger a rut? There are no omegas in the scouts."

"You tell me!" he replied between clenched teeth, almost drawing blood as he felt the stitches in his groin and the imperious necessity to bite something down and hold it as he pounded into it.

"God, I better go before you think about bitching me," Hange commented, not meaning it seriously. "I'll let the rest know you're sick to leave you alone. I'll leave a tray of food at the door and a change of water."

Levi hummed a sort of reply; he felt so humiliated. The mere thought of not having control over his body felt like an insult to his honour, to everything he stood for.

"Cheer up, have fun pounding your pillows," Hange's sing-song voice came through the door as it closed behind them.

It took a tremendous effort to rise from his seat, walk to the door, and add the lock on. Only then did he pace around the room like a caged lion, closing the window despite his need for coldness and drawing the curtains. The last thing he needed was some stupid cadet watching him jerk off over his desk. He kicked his boots off and started to undo the harness; it was done, it was inevitable at this point. Neatly putting them away while he still had some semblance of self-control and lucidity in his brain. It was going to be a long ride, a good couple of days closed inside there, almost ready to tear his skin off because his body "claimed" that this was the rightful time for mating.

Uniform off, he took a cold shower, thinking that he might have little to no mind to do it later on. It wasn't his first rut, of course not, but it had been definitely a while since his last. And he had no fond memories of the previous experiences. Once showered, he felt slightly at ease, a drop of water for a man dying of dehydration. Sweatpants on, no bothering with underwear, not even a shirt. Like a man waiting to be hanged, he prepared for what was about to come while he still had time to prepare.

It was winter, but he felt as if the air burned his skin, so warm it felt. He took off the bed cover to avoid getting it dirty, leaving only the sheets. Before he could even notice, his teeth were biting into his pillow, triggering his mind into thinking it was something else and also muffling his sounds. Thick expert hips thrusting in rhythmic movements, seeking fraction and release, his right hand squeezing the base of his dick, simulating what an omega's hole would feel like. So he could knot and feel a wash of relief until it started again. And again.

First, the rut, then the heat. In nature, it's rather a simple dynamic. Alphas go into rut first to showcase their capabilities, and when the heat hits, omegas have probably already had their eyes on one or two alphas.

Third chamomile tea, warming up her hands. She sighed slowly, trying to calm down her pounding heart. His hands did a calming massage over her neck, but her hair was getting loose as it escaped the low braid she had done during work. Something was off; she couldn't quite put her finger on what, but she started to wonder if she had caught a cold. Her body trembled as she got a fever; despite her rising body temperature, she felt rather cold, craving the warmth of her tea. Anxious thoughts clouded her mind, unsure why.

As the new nurse of the scout, she felt most of the time rather pointless. They had been preparing to retake Wall Maria during winter; there weren't expeditions, and accidents during training weren't that frequent, luckily so! She didn't want to appear as if she was waiting for someone to get injured to justify her presence. Her presence there wasn't only new; she had freshly graduated, and the surprise that they had chosen her as the main nurse made her anxious and happy. But the scout facilities were deep into the training areas, and the place was quiet and busy. Perhaps too quiet sometimes.

'Captain Levi is sick,' 'Oh goddess, doesn't he need me to check him out? I saw him a couple of days ago to check the healing of his ankle, and he seemed just fine!' 'No… better leave him alone; he's grumpy by nature. Imagine when he's sick.'

The conversation of the day before yesterday stuck in her mind far too much for her liking. Perhaps because she had checked his ankle, and while it seemed to be healing suspiciously fast, Captain Levi had explicitly asked her not to tell anyone how serious the injury had been. Her mind began to wander; had he gotten it infected somehow? What if it was more than just a cold? What if he needed someone to change the cold cloth over his forehead?

But the moment that kept replaying in her mind was when he brewed her tea, almost proud of how he had secured a deal for the best supplies from the Reeves Company. The soft touch of their fingers, the piercing colour of his eyes fixed on her—these memories lingered with an underlying haze each time she entered the room, though she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was from her last visit, the previous week when her necklace had come loose and fallen to the ground. Levi's sharp eyes quickly found the silver piece and handed it back to her.

Feeling embarrassed, she attempted to fasten the necklace herself, but it was challenging. "Here, let me help you," he said, his calloused fingers moving her hair aside, knuckles ghostly brushing against her neck as he placed the necklace around it. The sensation left her feeling warm, her heartbeats echoing in her ears, and the inviting aroma of lavender and citrus filled the air, slightly musky. It made no sense; she was a beta!

'Maybe we both caught a cold.'

Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling above her, beneath the higher-ups' personal chambers. She knew that Levi's room wasn't directly above hers, but metaphorically speaking, it felt that way. She couldn't sleep; her body felt uneasy, tired yet expectant, hot yet cold, restless yet weak. Curling into a small ball on her mattress, she wished to hide from the world. A feeling of defenselessness washed over her. Her mind and body felt exposed and alone, craving reassurance and longing for her worries to slip away.

'Maybe I should check on him… ' 'Yes, yes, check on him,' a voice inside her head quickly agreed.

Armin had been tasked with delivering some food and fresh water to Levi's chambers, and since she couldn't sleep, she contemplated making a late-night visit to check on him and offer assistance with medicine. The night was bitterly cold, and she felt oddly exposed, much like a doe in the middle of a meadow, her big round eyes scanning for danger in the unprotected surroundings, perfect prey for lurking predators. She added a thick, long cardigan over her nightgown and left her bedroom, her loose hair flowing as her slippers echoed in the scout facilities' corridors.

As she made her way through the facility, a shaky candle's light flickered under her steps. She struggled to keep her cardigan closed around her chest, multitasking as she carried a few loaves of bread, a couple of nuts, and a jar of water. The closer she got to the higher-ups' chambers, the heavier her chest felt, and she started to consider the possibility that she might have caught a cold or something worse. Each step on the stairs to the upper floor felt torturous, and her body weakened.

Finally, she reached the door and softly knocked, trying not to wake the other superiors sleeping on the floor. "Captain? Captain Levi? It's me… I was wondering if you needed medicine, help… anything," her whisper felt absurdly loud in the still of the night. There was no response, so she knocked softly again and attempted to turn the doorknob. It was, of course, closed.

She had a moment of clarity as she thought, "I don't know what I was thinking." If Levi was feeling so unwell that he had been absent from work for almost three days, he was likely asleep, and that was the best medicine. Her legs flexed as she prepared to leave what she had brought with her on the floor when she snapped to attention as the door creaked open in front of her.

The air that slipped through the door hit her like a wrecking ball. It entered her nostrils, invaded her senses, and intoxicated her brain so quickly that she could barely process it. Levi's grey eyes observed her through the door's crack.

"Captain?" She whispered as her body grew warm, her cheeks flushed, her legs trembled, and her hands shook. The air felt heavy and lacking oxygen, and before she knew it, her natural response was to start apologising. "I… I brought you rations," she stammered, as if her brain was trying to come up with excuses.

As that intoxicating scent grew stronger, her body reacted. Her walls contracted, her legs pressed together, and she felt ashamed, especially since Levi was intensely staring at her through the crack of the door.

"Cap-?"

Before she could insist, the door opened slightly more, barely allowing her to slip inside. Once inside, the woody, pine scent with subtle undertones of mint, citrus, and lavender overtook her senses, leaving her devoid of coherent thought. Despite Levi's stature on the shorter side, the breadth of his shoulders and his imposing shadow against the door as he pushed it closed captured her attention. Perhaps, under different circumstances, she might have noticed the sound of the lock as he stood behind her, allowing her to venture inside his territory. But the pheromones worked their magic on her, causing her knees to weaken, her body to liquefy, and her face to flush. She felt a pulse of wetness down her core, dampening her underwear.

After placing the jar of water and rations on the desk, she leaned against it, feeling nearly incapable of standing. She had clearly overestimated her health; she was suffering from something more than just a cold. Her mouth grew dry, and she was about to turn and leave, back to her own bed, when Levi deliberately licked the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She let out a loud gasp, trying to push him away.

Levi had her pinned against his desk. When had he moved so close to her? How was it possible that she hadn’t heard him? Most importantly, this wasn’t the Levi she knew, the one she peacefully drank tea with in the afternoons or the one who asked her if she needed anything from downtown when he was going to pick up rations with his squad.

Levi's pleasurable groans and purrs reverberated against his chest as he shamelessly licked the back of her neck and sniffed the area, softly caressing his canines against her skin.

"Captain, wait!" she tried to struggle away, pushing him off.

"Shh," he hushed, "no need to resist. I'll give you exactly what you came looking for, Omega."

Her body skipped a beat as she heard his hoarse voice. She felt her wetness spreading, an inner voice whispering, ‘Yes! Yes, this is what you want. Be good to him, be calm for him, be receptive, be a good little omega.’

Her legs trembled in desperation to stand straight, but the musky scent in the room awakened something deep inside her, almost animalistic. Levi's hands held her hips, pushing them backward, and his groan joined her pants as she felt the thick, throbbing member under his sweatpants. Her soft gasps weren't just because of the sweet friction she didn't want to enjoy as much as she did; Levi's half-hard member felt impossibly thick and demanding against her.

His fingers crept up her legs, her attempts to grab his wrists and stop him proving futile. "I-I'm not an omega! I'm a beta," she insisted.

Levi chuckled, the vibration reaching her as his fangs lightly grazed her vulnerable skin on her neck, not biting just yet, but teasing her with the idea of it. "Is that so? Well, this part of you says otherwise," his fingers moved up and down her soaking wet underwear.

"No- I… I'm not…"

"I can smell you, how sweet you taste, how wet you are, how desperate you are for it," Levi's voice was surprisingly calm, deep, and smooth, but with an undertone that made him sound as if he was lost, not completely in control of his own mind. "Submit, and I may take you to the bed, where your knees won't bruise."

"I'm not an omega," she repeated, her voice trembling. She could feel the wetness on her thighs seeping through her underwear and onto his fingers. It was humiliating yet exhilarating, confusing yet intoxicating. The scent of him surrounded her, consuming her senses, and despite herself, she couldn't help but arch her back, pressing herself closer to him.

Her heartbeat echoed in her ears; it seemed like a drum roll announcing their inevitable surrender. "But I… I can't…" His hands held her hips firmly, preventing any chance of escape while also keeping her close enough for him to sniff and lick her neck whenever he wanted.

"You are mine," he whispered hoarsely, his voice vibrating with raw desire. “That tight little hole of yours is twitching for me, begging for my knot. You’re obviously in need of a proper mate,”

His fingers danced along her hip bones, teasingly close to the place where they met but never touching. He leaned down further, his nose almost brushing against her hair. "I can smell your wetness, your readiness to take my seed.” His hips pressed and jerked against he, breathing heavily against her neck as he rocked his cock against her ass.

“I’ll breed you properly, do not worry,”

"It's because of the rut," she said quietly, trying to rationalise the situation but incapable of controlling the gasps "We both are affected by it."

Levi chuckled darkly, his hands moving up her sides to cup her breasts through her nightgown. "Yes, I’ve triggered your heat," he agreed, his voice husky.

His fingers brushed against her nipples through the thin fabric, sending shivers down her spine. She moaned softly, her body betraying her resistance. Her mind screamed at her to push him away, to run, but her body yearned for more.

"You’re not thinking straight" she cried out, her voice shaking with desire and anger.

"I know exactly what I want," Levi murmured, his breath warm against her skin. His dick swelled in his pants, this time ready for the actual act not some pathetic fantasy in his sheets. He spoke as if he was in trance, drunk on something sweeter than honey, softer than silk. His mouth started to salivate, teeth clenched and his hands lost control of his own strength as the veins of his hands and forearms popped as he tightened his grip.

She felt so small in his arms, so vulnerable yet so desired, and it was a confusing cocktail of emotions that left her feeling disoriented and helpless. But despite everything, there was an underlying thrill coursing through her veins, telling her that this wasn't something she should resist.

Her heart pounded against her chest as if trying to escape its confines. It was almost comical how desperately she wanted him, how eagerly she craved his touch, his scent, his possession. And yet, deep down, there was a part of her screaming at herself to fight against it, to run away, to save herself from becoming someone else's plaything.

The struggle inside her mirrored the one outside; Levi's grip on her hips tightened, pulling her closer while simultaneously pushing her back against the desk. His other hand moved up, tracing along her neckline until he reached the clasp of her nightgown. With a swift movement, he undid it, revealing more of her skin to his hungry eyes.

She gasped as the cold air hit her bare shoulders, making her nipples erect and visible beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown. Levi's gaze lingered on them for a moment before moving further down, taking in the sight of her wet underwear.

"You're so fucking wet," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing. "I could take you right here, right now, against this damn table."

His fingers slid into the waistband of her underwear, tugging it down slightly. The sensation was exquisite yet terrifying, like walking a tightrope without any safety net below. Her body trembled with anticipation and fear, each breath she took only heightening her senses further.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is how arousing it was, him manhandling her to his own wishes. Hands squeezing and kneading the skin of her body to his own pleasure, his legs parting between hers to force the space and secure her own hips to the sturdy wedge of Levi’s hips.

"Please…" she whimpered, unsure whether she was begging for mercy or for more. “Please, not here,”

Levi's pupils dilated. It had been so long, so stupidly long. Perhaps the last time he recalled being inside something warm and releasing one load after the other, squeezed almost to death by soft, tight, warm walls, was during his thug days back in the underground. The anticipation festered in his mind, his chest rapidly rising and falling at the mere thought of it. Maybe that's why Omegas weren't allowed in the military, those pretty little things, the perfect match for his knot to force his seed repeatedly until it took. And God, it would work perfectly—the perkiness of her breasts, the pertness of her ass, the roundness of her hips, the glistening of her inner thighs as she moistened herself perfectly for him to slide right in. Every inch of her body was made for him to claim and breed.

His large, pale hand groped her ass, squeezing his fingertips against her skin until it left marks, the bruise of his strength. She felt like a doll in his hands, moldable and ready for his every whim. Yet, there was something strangely comforting about it too. To be utterly at his mercy, to surrender control and let him take charge—it was terrifying and exhilarating, all rolled into one. Her head turned to the side, her glittering eyes looking back at him expectantly.

Levi's eyes locked onto hers, his gaze fiery and possessive. Her eyes met his, and for the first time since this whole ordeal began, she saw something different in them. There was no humour, no coldness, no distance. Only raw desire, hunger, and possessiveness reflected back at her. "You want this, don't you? You fucking crave it," he chuckled darkly, his voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing.

"I'm not…" she tried to protest again, but her words caught in her throat, trapped between fear and lust. She wanted him, needed him, yet part of her fought desperately against this primal urge.

Levi chuckled darkly, his fingers tracing along her inner thighs, barely touching but enough to send shivers down her spine. "You are," he whispered hoarsely, his breath warm against her skin. "And I plan to take advantage of it."

She whimpered again, a sound that was half protest, half pleasure.

Desperate to finally touch that sweet pool of warm slick between her legs, calloused fingers slipped upwards, running up and down her folds. Anything around her hole was dripping wet, almost to the middle of her legs. It felt absurd how her body reacted. Two unceremoniously fingers slipped in, her back arched, her lips parted, and she let out lewd moans that must have caught the attention of one or two higher-ups.

The sounds that reached his ears were obscene. It was ridiculous how she felt his fingers sliding right in and out, merciless but smooth. Her senses caught every humiliating detail of how wet she was for him. Levi didn't bother with detailed foreplay; there was no need. Her instincts had done all the work for him. Stupidly slippery, he parted his fingers, filling the pull of her walls that easily succumbed to the pressure, allowing more space for him, her cervix welcoming his load.

He withdrew his doused fingers, raised them up for him to take a good sniff before sucking them with delight. Almost throatily purring at the flavour, he said, "You're in the perfect cycle. I'm going to mount you and breed you as you deserve."

She emitted soft mews, her hips pushing backward, her ass slightly shaking to the sides, desperately trying to regain the alpha's attention. His head throbbed with determination as much as his manhood did inside his pants.

"Nngh.." she moaned, rocking against his desk, mourning the loss of his touch “Levi.. please,”

He stepped back slightly, giving her an illusion of freedom that was quickly shattered when he grabbed her hips again and lifted her off the ground. He wasted no time, she gasped as his fingers dug into her flesh, but it wasn't painful. Carrying her to his attached room as his hands sneaked under her ribs and pushed the nightgown over her head. Leaving her completely exposed. Levi's gaze roamed over her naked body, taking in every curve, every dip, every inch of her exposed skin. His canines gleamed dangerously as he licked his lips, almost like a predator sizing up its prey. Placing her on his mattress, the sheets were a mess and he had no mind in the past few days to even bother. Only serving further to his mind state.

Quickly he took off the sweatpants that hung lazily over his hips, tossing them aside not minding where they landed before he sinked a knee on the mattress crawling over her frame. How welcoming her body was, legs parting to show her leaking hole as a trophy for him to claim. Widening his knees to brace himself for what was about to come. Her watery eyes looked at the throbbing cock between his legs, it wasn’t just the length or the grid of it. It was the curve, the glycerin of the tip with pre-cum and the base that was already inflating in anticipation, softly twitching under the night light in arousement. The idea of being bred by an alpha as strong as Levi made her rock her hips against absolutely nothing, feeling her wetness sneak between her ass cheeks into the bed.

“Alpha… please ah- Come on,” She mewled, obviously already too far gone into it.

Her eyelashes fluttered while she laid trembling in the sheets, soft mewls convinced with keens as Levi’s lip latched on one of her buds, fingers massaging the softness of her breasts. Levi moved forward, hovering over the smaller omega. Yanking one leg over his shoulders only for his fingers to find the place he was going to claim once more, harshly biting the tender meat of her inner legs.

Levi's finger, slick with her arousal, slid into her tight heat with ease. He allowed a soft grunt of satisfaction to escape his lips, his eyes fixed on her flushed face as he carefully gauged the reactions. He curled his finger inside her, searching for the spot that would bring the sweet creature the most pleasure. His touch was controlled and skilled, determined to bring her to the peak of ecstasy.

"You like that, don’t you? Fuck, you’re sucking me in. Desperate little bitch for my seed. Trust in me, my omega."

His thumb found her clit, gently rubbing circles against it as his finger continued to thrust in and out of her wetness. The stimulation from his finger and thumb working in tandem left her teetering on the edge of pleasure, her moans growing louder with each passing moment.

"Alpha," Y/N moaned, feeling herself close, seeing him with residues of her wetness in his mouth "It feels good… I feel full,"

Levi's eyes darkened with desire as he heard her moans of pleasure and felt her walls tighten around his finger. He had to bite down a smirk as the mere thought of someone hearing him claiming what was rightfully his felt like a wet dream come true. Her words of satisfaction only fueled his own pride.

"You're doing so well, my omega," he murmured, his voice filled with husky approval. "Just let go and surrender,”

With his skilled touch, he increased the pace of his finger, thrusting deeper and faster inside her, while his thumb continued to rub herclit with firm and precise movements. Levi's own desire burned within him, his cock twitching against his lower abdomen, leaking shamelessly.

His movements became more urgent, his finger thrusting faster within her as his thumb pressed harder against her perfect spot. The dual sensations sent powerful waves of pleasure coursing through her body, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of climax. With one final, powerful thrust, Levi's fingers found that sweet spot within her, his thumb exerting a steady pressure on her bud. The combination of sensations was overwhelming, all consuming. Crying out his name, sweet body convulsed with pleasure, waves of ecstasy crashing over the poor creature.

Red swollen lips swollen and flushed face, she observed him withdraw his fingers and lick them cleans with a satisfaction smirk.

"Full?" He questioned, almost mocking "Oh, already? but I'll stuff you even more"

His words drew her eyes to his cock, that at this rate looked painfully ready. "Indeed," he replied, his voice laced with a mixture of lust and dominance. "I will show you what it truly means to be filled, to be completely consumed by an alpha."

A soft breath of rationality crossed her mind, forcing her to contour under his frame and seek liberation, fighting back and struggling. Levi's eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed the lack of cooperation. His dominant demeanour increased as the prospect of losing his potential mate felt outrageous.

"Your body is capable of accommodating me. Your body was made to be claimed by an alpha," he insisted, letting out an irritated snarl.

Drawing back into his knees, harsh hands gripping her hips and flipping her over. “Present,” he snarted commanding. Soft mewls left her lips as she sinked slightly into the mattress but Levi had run out of patience. Strong hands pushing between her shoulder blades to force the correct arch of her back, muffled cries left her lips as her face was buried into the mattress. No thought crossed her mind, she was devoid of any real rational capability as she felt her own wetness oozing out of her raised ass. Fingers sinking into her hips bones to secure the position and thick muscular thighs parting between her to find the perfect levalege for what was about to come.

The tip of his cock ran up and down her folds gathering the wetness and his hands spread it over his length, mixing it with his own leaking pre-cum. Thick head of his cock began to sink into her tight and wet heat. The sensation of her walls wrapping around him, the way her body tried to miserably accommodate him so willingly, sent shivers of pleasure down his spine. His breath held as it was a tight fit. Her nails sinked into the sheet as she squirm and wiggle her hips. Knees sliding over the bed, finding any way to create more space for him as he sank deeper.

He could feel her body twist and adjust to his size, her walls clenching around him in response. The feeling of being completely buried within her warmth made his breath hitch in his chest.

“Ah-Nnhg! Wait,” she cried out as the pleasure and pain mixed extremely well inside her fogged brain.

"Relax," he growled, rambling his hips forward. Both of them let out a loud moan as he finally sinked all the way in. With slow, deliberate movements, he began to move within her, withdrawing his length and then pushing back in. And not fully because he wanted, if it had been left to him, he would have been pounding the body below him in animalistic rhythm to the point her knees raised from the bed but she was definitely not accustomed to being mated by an alpha. His thick length spread her deeper and faster each time, as her own body eased out the process as she felt herself become ever wetter.

At this rate, if the rest hadn’t woken up, then they must be deaf. The squeaks of the bed, the slamming of the frame against the walls. The high detailed wet noises of skin against skin, his thick fat cock entering in her wet heap over and over again. Only adding her loud moans of pleasure that turned into winces each time he bottomed up. The pull of his cock sliding in each time deeper was maddening, to the point that her breath came out in chopped pants, finding it difficult to breathe more each time despite trying.

The grip of his hands on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into the skin possessively. His thrusts became more forceful and deliberate, his hips meeting her with every movement, driving himself deeper into her core. “Ah- Yes!” moans grew louder, echoing in the room, mixing with his growls of pleasure.

Levi's pace intensified, the sound of his hips slapping against her filling the room, the bed rocking with each powerful thrust. Time seemed to stand still, lost in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through both of their bodies.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice possessive and dominant. Both intoxicated, each on their own duty. His to fuck, bit, lick, suck anything that would him secure to be buried up as deep as possible, make sure that the head of his cock was assaulting the sweet welcoming open of her womb. And hers to slay sprawled on the bed for Levi to have his way with her, take anything she was giving and allow him to do his work.

"Yes! yes, alpha! I'm yours," she moaned back "claim me,"

Her body seemed to have a mind of its own as the eagerness of his movements told the inner instincts about what was about to come. Her inner omega knew exactly what was about to happen, preparing for something that not even herself was entirely sure about.

“Fuck! Nhg… Yes, shit!” his voice turned hoarse as he snarled in pleasure. Nothing he had been trying to provide for himself the last couple of days could ever compare to his. Anything else paled in comparison to the melting heat of her cunt, to the slippery heaven her hole was. He could feel the walls contract around him, milking him for everything he was worth. He could almost sob on how good it felt, especially after all the build abstinence. Depriving himself of this was simple torture, he wasn’t even done yet and he could already moan at the idea of repeating it all over again.

Levi's control over her was absolute as he held her down, his dominance and power asserting itself with each forceful thrust. The intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain coursed through her veins, igniting a primal hunger within her. The sound of Y/N’s moans and pleas filled the air, driving him further into a state of possessive desire. His movements became more frenzied, his hips snapping against hers with a relentless rhythm. The force of his thrusts owned her wince, the delicate edge between pleasure and pain blurring and simply adding to the intensity of the experience.

Levi moved to hover over her, his chest pressed against her back, his hands wrapping down her arms to push her back as he thrusted in.

“Ah! Ah!” Flustering lids as her eyes rolled backwards, lips parted letting out encouraging words that would be extremely embarrassing to recall later on.

“I’m gonna breed you- Fuck- I’ll stuff you full that the only reason you won’t be leaking my cum its because I’ll knot you so fucking well” Levi growled, hips stuttering. She felt the alpha shudder above her, thrusts becoming frantic.

“Yes! Yes, please,” she moaned eagerly, unaware, unconscious. In the delicious state she was in, hardly could notice any change in the process. Only how the head of his cock hit her cervix repeatedly, preparing it to accept his load. Further spreading her legs as the knees and sobs become incoherent. The prospect of being mated and claimed but such a good alpha was enough reassurance for her drunk brain.

Mouth hanging open but produced no sound as another climax was ripped through her, her legs trembling and shaking in desperation. Feeling her own walls clamping down on Levi’s length, spamming around it. Another pulse of slick forced out of her, oozing it down and obscenely wetting even his own legs as his cock kept stretching her out. Her inner instincts were so pleased, so extremely delighted of being held down and mated properly.

Levi’s desperate groans and snarts grew harsh and breathy as his own body prepared for the peak of the act. He had no idea how long he had been there, snapping his hips, holding her down, assaulting that beautiful cunt. However, Levi had concluded a simple thought. His entire life and sense of living had been reduced to this moment. One hand reached backwards to the bottom of her belly to press and feel, feeling his own cock was getting larger.

“Mhhh! Nhg” her winces as it was already too much to handle. “No- no!” she resisted, it was too much, no amount of slick and hazed pheromones could clouded her mind to the feeling of him stretching her rim impossibly wide.

His lower abs contracted, his legs twitched with the prospect, his possessive growls reverberated on his chest as he warned her of ruining this precise moment for him. His movements became even more primal, his grip on her body tightening as he pounded into her with a commanding force. The sound of her wetness and the slap of skin against skin filled the room, echoing the intensity.

Moving in earnest with a single purpose, knotting. “W-wait!” She cried, each push had that large cockhead touching my cervix, preparing it to accept his load.

Levi’s sharp snarl pierced through her body as he feared his mate escaping on the peak of the act or perhaps moving and running his calculative pounding. Pale lips parted, heavy breath impacting on the back of her head, saliva dripping from the corners of his lips. His teeth sinked mercilessly on the back of her neck, right on her scent gland and forcing submission into her frame. Latching his jaw around the back of the omega’s neck, drawing blood out of it as it mixed with his own saliva as he was drooling of the pleasure that cursed through him.

She could no longer move, her body became a pliant frame for him to deliver powerful thrust, his knots brushed against her entrance, teasing and preparing to further claim her and fill her with his seed. The grip on her frame was almost painful as he kept thrusting forward, trying to force his knot, the swollen part of the bottom of his lengths, to finally break in.

Her mouth hung open but produced no sound as she felt him finally being able to pop inside his knot with a last trust. Now unable to pull out anymore, his cock securely pressed as deep as it could go, head right on the opening of her womb, his knot secured in her entrance making sure that all his seed remained inside. No longer pushing out, only rocking against her frame. The pleasure of being stroked so deep within at such a brutal pace had her insides fluttering. Walls contracted around Levi's cock as he circled his hips jerking. Y/N squirmed as she felt the hot liquid gushing into her. Levi's shallow pumps released more each time. Rodding out his climax, growling softly as he humped desperately the soft body beneath him. Each shallow pump released more of his hot seed deep within her. With each pulsation, she felt the overwhelming fullness.

“Ah-” She mewled out as he released her neck to press his forehead against her nape, purring content to the point she could almost feel the satisfaction smile on the corner of his lips. Quick were to arrive the soft kisses and gentle laps on the claiming mark to numb the zone.

Levi’s endearing vibrations echoed on her exhausted frame as his chest was still pressed against her back. His hands now running up and down her sides as he kissed his shoulder blades delighted of a successful mating. It was a mere wash of calmness until the heat demanded them to retake the actions repeatedly.

Levi manoeuvred them to be laying on their side, spooning her from behind as they couldn't unlock yet. The cramped sheets at the bottom of the bed frame as the heat of their connected body was enough despite the winter temperatures. He dedicated to deliver affectionate gesture, a calming reassurance after the intensity of their union. He held her close, his strong arm draped around her waist as if somehow she could still perhaps run away. The tips of his hair tickled her face as Levi provided one of his arms as a pillow for both to rest their heads. It was stupid, to the point he probably would be ashamed later on how happy his mind was about it.

Pillows were spread around the floor, half-eaten loaves of bread on the night table. Shivers ran down his body as the air was humid and cold, dense and thick with confinement. The almost transparent sheets weren’t enough; his hand searched in vain and blindness for his blankets. He sat up abruptly, suddenly ashamed of his own nudity as his body felt sticky. His hips hurt, his legs contracted as if he had run a marathon, his hair clung to his forehead because of the lack of wash, his body froze as the sweat had turned cold.

Grey eyes roamed around his room that suddenly felt foreign to him. It was a mess, and he didn’t just say that because he was a clean freak. It WAS a mess. The sheets hung wrinkled on the edge of the bed, the bed frame had moved around, there were dirty dishes and jars of water half-drunk. His stomach groaned, complaining as the necessity to ingest food over any other priorities started to retake his system. The thick saliva in his mouth was gulped down slowly as his eyes admired the naked body sleeping next to him on the bed, tired and unaware. Levi couldn’t unglue his eyes from her naked back. His fingers ghosted over the purplish inflated claiming mark on the girl’s neck, not daring to touch it.

“No…” he whispered as realisation began to sink into his brain, which was finally, after almost over a week, regaining rationality. He slightly shook his head as he felt blame crawling up to him as if it was all a big mistake. Trying to search for a glimmer of hope, he carefully hovered over her peacefully resting body to softly sniff the mark he had left behind.

Shutting his eyes closed with pain and clenching his teeth, he breathed out, “Fuck!” Everything made sense now. She had mentioned that she was from a small country village and that during her nurse training, she lived in an omegas and betas only pension. Nature was wise—why waste energy and precious heat cycles when there was nobody around to claim her? It was better to save it for a worthy occasion. The way bringing her pastries from downtown brightened up her features, his necessity to provide tea for her, the chemical reaction of his face being too close to her neck that occasion. He had triggered her presentation.

‘A late bloomer,’ he thought. Unpresented, assumed to be a beta. His instincts knew better than himself.

“What the fuck have I done?” He cursed under his breath.

“Levi?”

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[flowerwrites06]

l'amour de ma vie — myg

L'AMOUR DE MA VIE | Love of my Life | Requested by anon.

Plot: Insecurities pile up in Yoongi's marriage after months of distance and neglect. Pairing: Pianist!Yoongi x Ballet Teacher!OC (Name: Kiku) Genre: Music & Ballet | Marriage on the Rocks Type: One-shot Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4.6k+ Warnings: marital insecurities, unintentional neglect, jealousy, mentions of divorce, mild mentions of injury from ballet, explicit sexual content (rough sex, unprotected sex, squirting). Author’s Note: new one-shot, friends! i really hope you enjoy this one, I loved writing it! be sure to let me know what you think!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Send your ideas in by August 1st before it closes!

Yoongi was a serious man. Kiku knew this well in the years she knew him. Their marriage didn’t flourish like fresh romances with many kisses and open affection but quiet trust helped their relationship stand strong.

When the doors closed, Yoongi often made up for his silence with soft kisses on her skin, calloused finger pads running down her neck and sneaking in between her core until she soaked the sheets.

However, things changed as the concerts began to pile up. When they were touring together as equal performers, Yoongi was active in ensuring that she heard compliments whispered in her ear. That he stared her way when she was on stage and she would sneak a look back whenever able.

Now Kiku wasn’t an equal performer and Yoongi’s attention on her was. . .low. Though Kiku understood why. It was concert season. Of course. That’s the only reason.

Of course, Yoongi was active and his face brightened like stars when he performed but lost the light in his eyes when he looked at her. It was exhaustion. It must’ve been. He would tell her if something was wrong.

Tonight was the same as the previous nights for. . .how long had it been? Two months, maybe three. Yoongi thrilled the audience with his performance, fingers dancing over the ivory keys like they were an extension of his own digits. Like the music was the air he breathed, exuding out of him. Kiku found it deliciously mesmerizing.

The audience roared with applause as the performance ended.

Yoongi bowed to the crowd, roses thrown his way before he walked backstage. Sweat slick on his forehead, pearling at the jawline. His grin disappeared immediately when he reached here. Kiku felt the weight of the lost smile but she leaned in and kissed his cheek anyway to congratulate him.

Yoongi barely leaned into it and rushed to change his clothes.

It was just exhaustion. Just exhaustion. Nothing more.

***

Today turned for the better. At least Kiku hoped as Yoongi received his first free day away from practices or concerts so he can enjoy the Italian sights for a while. The day was beautiful indeed, sun blazing gold amongst the sandstone buildings and flowers beds at the cafes burst in vibrant colour.

Kiku even wore her favourite silk corset dress with a thin cardigan over top for the spring breeze. Her black waves reached down to the small of her back and her enthusiasm thrumming to excitement. She felt as if she was waiting for a first date.

Yoongi finally entered the living room, wearing a white shirt and trousers.

“Did you want to go out to a café today?” Kiku asked, her voice kept soft and sweet. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Yoongi barely looked her way. “I have a small meeting with the producer. He wants some changes to the later performances,” he said. His tone was rushed and serious. As always. Everytime he began thinking of work, that was his tone.

Kiku knew this and she told herself this the moment her heart started squeezing unbearably. “When will you be back? Maybe we can go later.”

“I’m not sure. You can go by yourself and enjoy,” Yoongi said before rushing out without waiting for a response.

Breathing through the aches in her chest, Kiku did pick herself up and enjoy Italy. It was concert season. It was concert season. Everything will be back to normal once they’re home. It’ll be fine.

***

France was the next destination. This time, Kiku was invited to a ballet studio in Paris to teach some classes and have a studio room of her own to practice if she needed. It kept her distracted. Italy emptied Kiku and even the plane ride to France was Yoongi discussing things with his producer, Minho while she sat alone in her corner.

The dance studio brought her full of life again, the golden vines consuming the marble building like a living organism. The varnished wood floors, silk shoes and flowing dresses that returned Kiku to past days. To. . .happier days, she thought with a pain inside her.

Kiku and Yoongi fell in love during a different France tour years ago. Kiku was a prima ballerina in her early twenties. Lovely and enchanting, they called her. Yoongi played all her songs for her, watching her every move as if catering to her own movements and not the choreography itself. There was an intimacy behind that cohesion, that connection that not even six years of marriage managed to create. Perhaps that was a bad thought to have. To romanticise the first year of love as opposed to the commitment they were in now.

She should be happier now. She was happy. Happy, yes.

Was Yoongi happy? Was he happy that he watched her perform? Was it okay that Kiku was no longer that prima ballerina? She was no longer quite as lovely or enchanting.

Kiku danced every now and then but after an injury, her doctor encouraged her not to do performances like she used to. Otherwise it may lead to permanent damage. Yoongi supported her through her strained muscles, helping her through her exercises and reassuring her. But perhaps Yoongi didn’t plan on needing to take care of her. Perhaps the thought of her never being that ballerina again dawned on him and he grew distant.

No, it was silly. Silly to think it so. They were happy. Happy. Happy.

***

Kiku made her way to the stadium where Yoongi had his practice and performance later in the night. She brought fresh food from a nearby café with a small spring in her step. Sweet notes of the piano echoed in her ears. Even the tonality and energy of the notes made her know that it was Yoongi. It gave her both this nostalgia and fresh nuance of something new, like a first kiss or a sneaky touch on the back of her hand.

Kiku smiled at the people backstage, placing the food on the table.

“This’ll be good for the newer performances,” she heard Minho say as they looked out to the stage.

Kiku followed their gaze and saw the new addition. The reason why Minho wanted to have so many meetings. A young ballerina was on the stage, dancing freely to the notes played by Yoongi.

Her grin was bright and energetic, understanding completely the importance of her performance carried out. Lovely and enchanting.

Kiku knew it was normal for pianists to do this. To have different performances showcase creativity and enthusiasm. But the sight of it felt like stones crushing her slowly. It was normal for this to happen, she told herself. Yet Kiku felt it deep in her heart, deep in her gut, this unbearable pain when the reality sank in.

Kiku didn’t belong to his world anymore.

She was a wife who tried to be part of his world but not in his world.

Perhaps Yoongi knew this and stayed silent to protect her feelings. He never liked confrontation. Or it just didn’t matter and he would get rid of her after the tour.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Minho asked. “Back to his roots?”

Kiku attempted a smile as she always did. Attempting a smile. Maintaining an energy to make sure everyone else felt good. To make sure Yoongi felt good, without burden.

“I’m feeling a bit unwell,” Kiku said. “I’ll be going home.”

“Don’t you want to wait until he finishes?” Minho asked, confused. Kiku never left once she got to Yoongi’s practice, not even when she was sick.

How silly she was. Constantly leering at the edges of a place she didn’t belong to anymore. Trying to squeeze into a place in Yoongi’s heart that was probably getting smaller and smaller. He had no time for her. Kiku couldn’t force him.

Oh, the thought of it burned her eyes. Her stomach felt like it was singed.

Frustration pricked at her. “I’ll talk to him when he gets home.” She lied. He’ll be fine without me.

***

Yoongi adored having more performances linked to his piano pieces. While he enjoyed having his solo acts, it was nice to be in the background for a moment and allow for his music to be interconnected with dance or a story. The exhaustion and boredom that begun to linger in the past performances rejuvenated back into a sense of excitement. At least the final shows of the tour were something of energy and new light.

The ballerina bowed elegantly after the practice performance. Yoongi returned backstage with his heart pumping through his ribcages at asking Kiku whether she liked the new addition. She had grown a bit quiet towards the end of the Italy leg. Perhaps seeing some of her own art showcased on stage would bring her spirits up.

Except Kiku wasn’t there.

“Did Kiku not come yet?” Yoongi asked before gulping a bottle of water.

Minho, his producer, shrugged. “She said she felt unwell. But you have food.” He gestured to the apricot pastry, sandwich and coffee on the table.

Yoongi was used to having Kiku sit there with him as he ate or eat with him. Having the chair next to him empty felt cold and unwelcoming. She must’ve been really sick. “I can go early to check on her.”

Minho hummed. “I mean you can but it’d be safe to do another practice run.”

Yoongi stared at the empty chair for a while. Maybe she was asleep and he would only be disturbing. Besides, he had a few shows left. Might as well get it all out of the way.

***

Night already fell into a deep dark abyss by the time Yoongi was done with practice. He wanted to come back home in the afternoon but he got distracted at work. It was a habit of his, long rotting inside him yet hard to rip away. Moonlight painted their hotel room in a pale silver before Yoongi turned the light on for a splash of warm apricot light against the crème couches and opulent lamps.

“Kiku?” Yoongi asked.

There was no response for longer than Yoongi was comfortable.

But then Kiku walked through the bedroom door, wearing a soft cotton lace nightdress with her hair, a little messy from a nap. Her eyes were soft and glossed, her cheeks sweet and a little puffed. Kiku didn’t move from her spot, looking at him carefully.

A small part of Yoongi’s body had gotten prepared for her to walk to him and kiss him on the cheek. A more selfish part of him expected her to wait for him because she always did, even when she was sniffling from sickness. “You weren’t feeling well?”

Kiku stared at him, as if confused by Yoongi’s concern like it was foreign to her. Yoongi hadn’t seen that look on her face and something about it hurt her. “I’m feeling better,” she said softly.

“Is it your legs?” Yoongi asked, a little more careful this time.

Kiku still looked at him like that. Like Yoongi hadn’t spoken to her of such intimacy in a long time.

Well. . .he didn’t, did he? When was the last time Yoongi asked her if she ate well? Or slept well? Or even how she was? Yoongi tried his best to remember. He must’ve had asked her how she was this morning. Or kissed her. But he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember the last time he had any conversation with her.

“I’m alright, Yoongi,” Kiku said. “Get some rest, it’s okay.”

Yoongi wanted to argue that he could give her a massage or help her get better but Kiku already walked back into the room. Without a smile or a kiss. The air grew cold again and Yoongi worried that his habits may have touched a nerve too delicate for his own good.

***

“An extension?” Yoongi had a single finger tapping softly on a D note, not pressing it for sound but thinking as Minho announced that he wanted to have a few more weeks of shows. “The tour has already gone on for months. We all need rest.”

Minho hummed, waving his hand. “You can rest later. This’ll be good for your career.”

It would be. Especially with ballet studios from France wishing to administer their own ballerinas into the mix, it would be so good for his career. But a shadow loomed over him. Kiku’s distance wasn’t going unnoticed by Yoongi. She hadn’t been to any of his practices since that day and it had been a week already.

Kiku wasn’t sick anymore. Something else was wrong.

“Kiku and I’s anniversary is in two weeks. I don’t want to be busy in a concert during that time, we’ve never worked on anniversaries.” Yoongi shook his head. He remembered how she worked around her training schedules to ensure that their anniversary was always free. Something was already wrong and for Yoongi to break a tradition along with it was stupid.

“Well, Kiku can come along with you.” Minho smiled. “She can even train the ballerinas herself, she’s a qualified teacher. Spend your anniversary in Paris.”

Yoongi could try to get a free day during the tour again. He had a free day in Italy, which he used to have a work meeting. Maybe this time, they could explore France. “Alright, I’ll talk to her.”

***

Kiku was at a ballet studio, Yoongi was told. Not by Kiku but the hotel receptionist who was asked to send a message if Yoongi tried to look for her. Kiku always texted him directly if she wanted to communicate something but they’ve resorted to this now, he supposed. Yoongi made his way to the ballet studio, the smell of wood and perfume wafting in the air as he walked up the stairs to the top level practice area.

Kiku was there, wearing a flowy white skirt, transparent, crème with a black top. Her hair was open as she always kept it when practicing dances on her own. Even after the injury, her every move was precise, the pointe of her toes like an ethereal being and her form like a swan.

Yoongi remembered watching her all day. He had become so used to her presence, close to him like his own extension. After all this distance, he was once again the humble pianist watching a prima ballerina conjuring magic with her dance.

Dark, pretty eyes flickered to him then and Kiku stopped, her expression neutral again.

Yoongi tried to push down the squeeze in his chest. He wanted her to smile at him again, to rush to him and kiss him. But she stood there, distant and unmoving. “I—Minho wants to extend the tour.” He wanted to make a more personal introduction but the room turned cold so quickly, he couldn’t muster the right tender words.

Kiku stared at him, a twitch in her eye. So she was uncomfortable. “It’s alright. It’s good for your career.”

Now she was keeping her feelings hidden from him.

Hurt turned to a flash of frustration. “You weren’t at the practice.”

“I figured you didn’t need me hovering over you all the time,” Kiku said plainly.

“You’re my wife, I want you there.”

“Well, you haven’t exactly been doing a good job at showing it.”

Ah. His bad habit. Still rotting inside him and now it was rotting at the seams of his marriage. Kiku’s neutral expression flashed with truth now, making Yoongi wish she was hiding it again. It wasn’t anger. Not really. It was deep hurt and helplessness. “Kiku.” His voice was meek. It made him feel stupider that he realized it immediately yet too late.

The hurt solidified behind Kiku’s expression.

“I wasn’t doing it on purpose, I was—”

“Busy, I know. Believe me, it was the only word I’ve hinged on to. . .gain strength.” Kiku let out a long sigh, soft and weary and slow.

Yoongi knew it was to hide her voice shaking as her eyes turned glossier. He hated it. Hated that he was the reason. Hated that he didn’t even know it because he never felt he had to. Kiku always had herself put together, always a sturdy foundation. So much so that Yoongi grew too lax. Too careless. And now it was coming back to haunt him in the flesh.

“You can continue the tour without me,” Kiku said.

“No.”

“It’s stupid to cancel the tour on my accord. You’ve come this far.” She shook her head.

“I am not leaving you.” Yoongi’s voice raised a little, desperate and pleading. “Kiku. I wanted you to be with me, spend our anniversary in France.”

“I don’t want to be in France.” Kiku’s throat bobbed up and down. “It reminds me too much of what I’m not anymore. Of what I can’t be.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked.

“I’m not the wonderful ballerina I used to be,” Kiku whispered. “People look straight through me and it never bothered me but now. . .you do too.”

Yoongi’s heart dropped. “Kiku, I never. . .I don’t care if you’re a ballerina or not, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“It doesn’t matter to you because you can always put a new one on stage.” Her voice cracked then, unable to hold herself together. “I can’t find some other person who will think I’m worth keeping.”

“I’m keeping you,” Yoongi argued. “I know I’ve been wrong to distance myself from you but that will never change the fact that you’re mine. And I’m yours. All of it, always.”

Kiku stayed silent, finally letting out a shaky sigh. It was that slightest glimpse of vulnerability that gave Yoongi hope. The wall wasn’t cement, it was a curtain still, giving him to room to walk closer so he could catch the faint waft of a tea and jasmine in her aura.

Yoongi held onto her fingers gently at first. He waited for her to slowly curl and clasp back, giving him another chance to walk even closer. His hand reached up her arm, cupping her cheeks and kissed her. A fire roared inside him, feeling her warm kiss back again. It had been too long. Feeling the soft strands of her hair through his fingers, the taste of her and her warmth pressed against him soared through him with sweetness.

Yoongi leaned Kiku against the barre, lifting her enough to rest against her back against the mirror. Yoongi kissed her neck, suckled on the softest part of her skin and bit into it. The slight ache on her skin awakened her nerves.

Kiku ran her fingers through his hair, tugged at the scalp to ground her to reality. That this wasn’t a dream but her own beloved husband, tasting her skin after so long. Her hips desperately rubbed against the bulge forming on his pants, the weight of her body already pressing down against the barre but she didn’t care.

Kiku snuck her hand in between them, rubbing his hardened bulge before unbuttoning his pants. Her fingers wrapped gently around his thick member, twitching against the soft skin of her palm. Her index traced up the angry vein, teasing the slick tip until he let out a moan against her collarbone.

Yoongi lifted to look at her. Kiku smiled and sucked his arousal off her index, keeping her dark lust-blown eyes fixed on him. Yoongi gripped onto her jaw, pushing her cheeks in until her lips protruded. He kissed her again, harder this time as he reached under her skirt and ripped her thin panties, the delicate cloth soaked in her own arousal.

Kiku laughed, drunk with lust as she grabbed onto Yoongis length and aimed it at her sodden cunt. Time showed in the way Kiku felt so snug. She let out a small shaky whimper as if Yoongi entered her for the first time. Kiku gripped onto the barre as Yoongi gently pushed through the tightness, letting her adjust to him again.

Kiku grazed her nails against the fabric of his shirt, yanking off the buttons so her fingertips could trace his skin. She let out a pleased sigh as his entire length sunk inside her, his body flush against hers until they were one.

“I love you,” Yoongi whispered.

Kiku let out a small whimper, forehead pressed against his as tears burned in her eyes. Both an overwhelming flash of love and pleasure soared through her deliciously. “I love you too.”

As the declaration left her sweet lips, Yoongi began to thrust into her. Slow at first, ensuring that she felt the tip of him at her cervix and every ridge inside her remembered him sliding out. She dripped with arousal, making the wooden barre glisten. Yoongis hips moved faster, pistoning in a pattern that maddened Kiku.

Yoongi pulled at the sleeves of her top, sneaking it down until her nipples popped from their covering. The cold air of the ballet studio made them erect. Yoongi leaned and wrapped his lips around one of them, lapping his tongue on the tip until he felt her clench around his cock.

Kiku threw her head back against the mirror before kissing his temple. Yoongi was patient in his attention, moving to her right nipple and giving it the same love. Such affection. His pace quickened as her pleasure began to swell to its limit.

Yoongi gripped onto the back of her thighs, locking her against the wall and pounding into her. Without mercy and with the most delicious desperation that forced a string of moans out of Kiku. Never had she felt so free to let out all the noises she wanted.

His thrusts got harsher, her wet cunt slammed over and over again until even the barre began to squeak under the pressure. Then he paused suddenly with a pant. Kiku let out a choked scream as Yoongi buried himself deep, shaping himself inside her and carrying her off the barre. Kiku spewed another whimper, muffled against his shirt.

Yoongi let out an excited breath as he placed her shaking feet on the floor. Turned Kiku around and had her face her flushed, tear-stained and pleased expression in the mirror. Her hair had turned dishevelled, the front strand matted to her forehead. Yoongi gently placed his fingers over her neck, nose buried in her hair, the lovely scent of jasmine and her sweet arousal suffusing the air. “You’re mine. My love.” He whispered.

Kiku smiled, swaying her hips before he started pushing himself in again. This time much easier, wet and welcoming. “I’m yours.” She caressed his sweat slick cheek. “Yours. All yours.”

Yoongi hummed, thrusting into her again. Deep and hard. Each thrust felt like a shake through her whole body, making the memory of him linger until she dreamt about it days later. “Am I yours?”

Kiku let out a soft chuckle. “You’re mine.” Another rough thrust had her nearly sobbing as it hit her sensitive spot. He still knew where it was.

Yoongi panted, using her noise to thrust in that same position. Kiku bent over against the barre with a whimper, her knees nearly buckling but still wanting more. “Does it feel good, baby?”

Kiku stammered a response as he fucked into her again, her lower belly felt full, ready to roll over the edge. Yoongi pistoned into her ensuring that the same spot touched again and again. “Feels good, baby, don’t stop.” She cried out.

Yoongi groaned, leaning in and sneaking one of his hands between her legs. His calloused fingers rubbed her clit as his own orgasm rushed to the edge. “I’m gonna cum.”

Kiku let out a trembling breath, gripping on his forearm as her lower belly. Begging to release. “Cum inside me.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek. Then the coil sprung. Spurts of sweet nectar had her whimpering, a light choked scream as a light gush splashed on the floor.

Yoongi panted as his orgasm burst into madness, thick and warm as it filled Kiku’s womb. Messy and beautiful. Their thighs slick with the most wonderful arousal as he held his love in his hands, most of her weight rested on his grip as she trembled through her high. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Kiku chuckled, the tingles of ecstasy flooding through her like a blind bliss. “I missed you too,” she whispered, touching his cheek again. “Don’t be away from me.”

“Never. Never again.” And Yoongi held to that promise just as he held her. He would never let this go again.

***

Minho never hid his disappointments when it came to him. Except Yoongi wasn’t quite the same as all his other rookie musicians, who would fall back in line once they saw the displeased purse of his lips. “It would’ve been good for your career. Your wife should understand that much, she’s done the same with her career.’

“Kiku made her career without sacrificing time in our marriage,” Yoongi said. “I should be held to that same standard.”

Minho hummed, raising his hands in defense. “I mean if that’s what you want.”

“You did want to go to Greece for another tour so if that’s in the cards.” Yoongi already expected the sudden brightness in Minho’s face. He didn’t like disappointment but he did like something to do. Perhaps preparing for a future tour in Greece would allow for Yoongi to spend more time with Kiku.

Minho clapped his hands. “Greece and a few more dates in Japan as well. Kiku’s home country, that could make her happy.” He waved his hands, smiling to himself as if he wasn’t just ready to have a tantrum a few minutes ago. “Enjoy your anniversary.”

Yoongi smiled, feeling a wave of relief that he was appeased. No more tour dates anytime soon. Which meant he could go home when the sun was high in the sky and he had comfort waiting for him at home.

***

They took a plane back to their apartment in Korea the next day. The familiar dark wood, ferns and home-grown lettuce were well-tended to by their friends while they were gone. Kiku recognized the smell was different after a few months. Sadness pricked at her but it was bittersweet, not all bad. She was home again.

Kiku and Yoongi made dinner together to revive the smell of home. Warm rice soup, spinach salad, fresh steamed rice and spiced mapo tofu to fill their bellies.

“I’m thinking of opening a ballet studio,” Kiku said.

Yoongi’s brows raised mid-chew. “You want to teach?”

Kiku nodded with a smile. “I still want to dance and the doctor said just not to do performances. So teaching.”

“If you want a part-time piano player, I’m free.” Yoongi grinned.

“Without an interview?” Kiku frowned playfully. “My ballet studio would have more standards than that.”

“I mean I am sleeping with the owner, you could pull a few strings.” Yoongi shrugged.

Kiku’s lips parted in slight shock. “That’s highly inappropriate. You would have to show me your talents.”

As they put away the dishes for their lunch, Yoongi walked over to the grand piano perched on the space between the kitchen and living room. He reached out to his work bag and pulled out a few pieces of paper with hand-written music notes.

Yoongi played with the ease of breathing as he always did, except this music was the softest it had ever sounded. Delicate and sweet. Even the way his fingers moved on the keys were floating like a swan. A ballerina.

Kiku padded over to the piano, stood behind him and leaned her chin against his shoulder. She peered over the title and saw L’amour de me Vie. Love of my Life. Her heart burst with joy as she rested against the crook of his neck. “Who’s it about?”

Yoongi laughed, playing softer. “Depends, do I get the job?”

Kiku smiled and kissed his cheek. “Fine. You’re hired.”

“Then it’s you,” Yoongi said, smirking. It will always be you. 

masterlist

#yoongi #suga #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #marriage au #pianist au #yoongi fic #yoongi x oc

[inchidentally]

Crown Prince Lando AU idea based entirely on his appearance today in Italy for his trophy and Lawrence writing about how every team is courting Lando

okay so I wrote this rly fast on the work laptop and you have to just ignore the weird interpretations of how royalty and inheritance etc works. and completely fucking with how things went down in F1 history. it's an absolute mess and possibly unreadable but I literally couldn't stop myself.

if you're a fic author then pleaaaaase have a look and see if you can take this and actually make anything out of it even if it needs a lot of changes.

Crown Prince Lando has been fought over by nations since he was seventeen years old. His parents had retired from royal duties to live quietly in the countryside but a series of deaths and lack of heirs resulted in Lando living most of his life being prepared for ascension to the throne. His parents did as good a job as they could to keep Lando humble and "normal" while having to live a kind of sequestered monastic existence.

As he grew so did his future subjects' love and adoration of him. They loved his humor and his cheeky treatment of the solemn institution surrounding him. As he grew into being a beauty the country took endless pride in him and watched his exploits as a touring royal closely.

Fernando Alonso was the first to pledge his troth to Prince Lando because he could see the promise in Lando of one day becoming a truly beloved ruler - a quality he himself had found wanting in his own slow gathering of power. However he was persuaded early on by his advisers and Lando's parents to withdraw due to his 'already advanced age'. Lando's debut at court was postponed by his parents to prevent any other establishment attempting to lay their claim before Lando felt comfortable and ready.

The powerful Sainz Vázquez de Castro family swooped in next and arranged a series of public meetings between Prince Lando and their wicked (meaning "experienced") and devastatingly handsome son Carlos Jr. His charisma and dark eyes charmed Prince Lando immediately and a wedding date was set for the following year. Lando's debut at court was hastily arranged to happen mere days prior. Probably should insert something here about Lando being made to live this period of life in a guarded tower and attendants being present whenever he was with Carlos because chastity being required for marriage. And the only way to keep Carlos' dick out of Lando was the threat of a priest's guard cutting it off. But lbr they manage to sneak around well enough to do everything else.

Unfortunately the royal courts of Europe were shaken by a quick series of upsets: Sovereign Prince Lorenzo of Monaco abdicated the throne in search of a quieter life - his heart had never been in it since his father, the former sovereign, had become ill and abdicated. This left Lorenzo's unwed brother Charles to be hastily crowned Prince Regent at the tender age of 22 (and unable to become sovereign himself due to being a second son, again my weird rules). As a result Charles suffered the loss of his long-time suitor, nobleman Sebastian Vettel, who couldn't bear the thought of being sovereign let alone of a land that wasn't even his own.

Enter the Sainz Vázquez de Castro elders siezing the opportunity and negotiating a deal with Monaco in private conclave with the Papal State (??) to wed their son Carlos to the Prince Regent. Carlos is ashamed at giving in to the temptation… to not just be King Consort but to be Sovereign Prince, to rule over the vast wealth of Monaco and by extension the Holy See, to have the coveted beauty Charles in his bed. So he agrees to be spirited away to Monaco and the ugly business of dissolving his betrothal to Lando is left to members of church and state.

But Carlos experiences a complete conversion when Charles is on his knees in the cathedral - looking up at him with docile green eyes as Carlos' fingertips touch the warm red roses of Charles' lips as he holds the chalice of holy wine for Charles to drink. Carlos was almost hard beneath the ermine and velvet robes in a house of God when the crown was on his head and Charles next to him - and slightly below - smiling up at him with filaments of gold hanging from pendants on his chaplet, framing his achingly beautiful face. If Carlos feels his immense happiness and prosperity darken whenever he sees Lando's picture or encounters him at one of the courts then no one need know.

Prince Lando is of course too heartbroken to consider other suitors and his court is demoralized by their own failure to seal his future. Only brash American tycoon Zak Brown keeps the faith that Lando's appeal as he grows will land him a better match than any Euro old money looking to aggrandize themselves and take advantage of Lando's youth to displace his rightful future as King.

A stroke of genius is the arrival of commoner Daniel Ricciardo whose rise up the ranks of society has hit more than a few speedbumps over the years. He's in the perfect position to act as placeholder and a sort of 'playmate' for the young Prince Regent. Daniel does the job of squiring Lando around and cheering him up beautifully. So beautifully that Daniel begins to see in his charge's wide eyes a future that he had only ever let himself dream of before. He begins to publicly push the boundaries of propriety with Lando like holding hands, embracing him from behind, dancing scandalously close together. The dam begins to break when Daniel opens a public social media account and begins posting adoring and fairly intimate videos of Lando that prove to be a massive hit with the public… and that fan rumours of the Crown Prince breaking with tradition and marrying a commoner.

Exeunt Daniel Ricciardo.

(Yes I know this isn't remotely his role but go with it) Newly appointed Lord Chancellor Andrea Stella proposes that only a candidate the same age as Lando - or ideally younger - should be considered to ensure that his claim to the throne be safeguarded. Because Lando hasn't spent the intervening years doing nothing but swooning over a succession of suitors, he's perfected his role and learned his court and won over the hearts of his people. He's effected harmonious relations with rival kingdoms seemingly effortlessly. The royal coffers have never been so full and trade is booming. Lando and his court all know that Lando could easily rule alone. But the fire that the now King of Monaco had lit inside him refused to go out. It begged to be fueled and to burn brighter.

Then one day Andrea hears a murmur of controversy happening in the middling levels of the aristocracy. The scoundrel Alonso had construed a match between one Oscar Piastri and Frenchman Esteban Ocon as a means of effecting his (Alonso's) escape and aggrandizing the Alpine dynasty. There were further details about a drama between Ocon and countryman Pierre Gasley but all that interested Andrea was that young Piastri had ordered a direct pronouncement be made against the match and any further association with Alpine. He had already rejected the opportunity of being presented at court and clearly had plans for his own future that would not depend on the protection or condescension of any other power but his own.

Imagine Andrea's surprise when Zak Brown announces at the next privy council meeting that preliminary arrangements had been made with young Piastri to be the Crown Prince's companion for the following season. A pretense at Piastri having an interest in royal politics was to be given to everyone, including Piastri himself. But Andrea and Zak shared a knowing look across the mote-stained light straining through the high windows of the old chamber. The Crown Prince barely even hears the details as he wearily signs off on the public notice along with the other endless papers at his elbow. He doesn't even dream that a wildcard is being played for his future happiness.

The eldest son of the prominent and noble Piastri family from Tuscany is suitably beautiful with the characteristic straight brow, fine pale features and soulful deep amber eyes of his people. He is tall and still growing with an effortless regal bearing despite his youth. The first few meetings between him and the Crown Prince are cordial and with a promising warmth. Andrea is encouraged by the pink that rises high on Piastri's pale cheeks whenever he shares smiles with Lando but he's even more encouraged by the steady intensity of his gaze when Lando isn't looking.

For the first few months, Piastri remains a faithful but distant part of Lando's royal retinue. They interact often enough and clearly like each other. But it also comes at a time of unrest in Lando's kingdom as a result of the ascension of an ambitious and possibly ruthless young King in the Netherlands. Lando proposes a visit to Castle Toro Rosso and asks Piastri to accompany them due to the Italian affiliation with the Dutch royal house. Something about Piastri's calm and quiet confidence helps stabilize Lando and he needs all the support he can get.

The visit is strained and the Dutch court is intimidating - and rather grating - in it's brash opulence and show of dominance. The young King is more of a mystery, seeming cold and aloof but flashing a wry smile at Lando's well-known charm and humor. The tide turns entirely in Lando's favor at the tourney. Lando has been barred from jousting following his formal presentation as crown prince due to some finicky archaic British law and it eats away at it him to have to sit and watch while the Dutch King was allowed to ride for himself. More than once Lando moodily pushes at the circlet that keeps slipping over his curls and can feel himself being increasingly bratty and short with his attendants.

Piastri was already reknowned for his prowess in jousting and was automatically given the seat to represent the Crown Prince. When he appeared mounted on a blood bay charger that gleamed almost golden and black in the hot sun (MCL colors kinda??) Lando has A Moment when Piastri tips his visor open and addresses him formally and those intense brown eyes behind the cold armor make him look so much older. Lando causes a stir when he descends from his seat and gives Piastri his favor in the form of a ribbon from one of his full sleeves. They have one of Those Looks between each other before Piastri turns to take his place. He bests every one of his opponents and isn't unseated once.

Then the Dutch King Max Emilian appears and strangely shuns any pageantry associated with a knight's entry, let alone a king's. His Lady sits in his place flanked by both her own and the King's powerful families and court. Lando finds himself suddenly flooded with fear because what would happen if Oscar lost? What would happen if Oscar won? When had he become 'Oscah' and not just Piastri?

The collision unseats both King Max Emilian and Oscar and they draw swords. The fight is precise and clinical and breathtaking. Perhaps it was because of having more to lose or perhaps it was the press of the Crown Prince's lips against the silk ribbon he gave as tribute but Oscar suddenly anticipates a step too far ahead for the young King and a unified gasp is heard when Max Emilian's body hits the dirt. It's instinct that has Oscar's sword held at the King's throat. But when Max Emilian throws his visor back his bloodied mouth is stretched in a wide toothy grin. He barks out a series of high cackles and ceremonially begs mercy. Oscar breathes out in a rush and claps his armored hand around the King's and helps him to his feet. Max Emilian flicks Oscar's visor open for him and lifts his hand declaring Oscar's well-earned victory. Lando forgets himself and leaps up yelling and cheering as his court smiles ruefully over at the stiff, formal "celebrations" coming from the stands opposite.

Holy god I've written way more than I meant to but let's have it finish off with Lando whispering to gain access to the tent where Oscar is undressing and cleaning his wounds. Perhaps his armor has been removed down to the hips the way driver's drop their race suits down after a race. Oscar startles when he sees Lando alone with him and rushes to kneel to him. Maybe Lando puts his hand under Oscar's chin and tells him to rise up and oh maybe seeing Oscar sweaty and dirtied with a cut to one cheek and a few bruises on his body makes him forget himself. Maybe he surges up and kisses Oscar and maybe Oscar is shocked but also feels exactly the same way and kisses him right back. Then probably Oscar decides to make his boldest move yet and says that if Lando doesn't want him then he'll quietly go away - but if Lando does want him then Oscar would welcome the title King Consort, would be proud of it in fact to be in service a king like Lando one day.

Then Lando either passes out because he's been in blue ball hell since Carlos and years worth of arousal hit him all at once or maybe he just whimpers a little and starts wondering how fast a royal wedding can get planned so he can Get That Dick ASAP.

Fin.

#landoscar #this is also carlando and dando and charlos in passing #fic prompt #mine #crown prince lando #prince charming lando #f1 royalty au

[dovand]

i am as always thinking about 14 and the nobles... specifically 14 & shaun. CRIMINAL lack of 14 & shaun content . excuse me that is my emotional support deranged lovers-in-law prongs of a queerplatonic throuple V. that is my little scrinkly wet cat and his chill saint bernard friend. that is my symbiotic relationship weirdos who sleep back-to-back to 14 can a) leech his body heat b) cuddle donna c) not fall off the bed. that is my favourite “both wake up early but one of them is being clung to like they are a teddy bear and it is Not Shaun, who is making ‘too bad’ faces at 14 and tiptoeing away” dynamic.

(14 either ends up dozing again after he wakes up early or just lays there curled up thinking—but, either way, when shaun shows up with breakfast in bed every sunday, he is treated to the beautiful sight of the two huge autism creature eyes peering up at him from behind the most bedraggled mop of hair ever seen. whether there are any thoughts behind those eyes depends on whether their owner has been napping or Pondering)

(yes this is all made up in my head!!! yes i am dismayed by there only being FOUR FICS (4!!) using it as a tag and none of them (afaict) doing it in a qpr way. where is my deranged weirdplatonic polycule!!!)

further insanity under the cut pleasseee please please read. please i need to be insane about this with people

(also btw this post is about queerplatonic doctordonna, doctordonna shippers i love you and you are welcome to contribute but it is a Little squicky for me so if tag ur additions (so i have a heads-up) that would be so lovely and i would adore you forever <3)

shaun likes listening to people ramble and 14 likes rambling so it is a regular occurrence to find the two of them like. standing in the kitchen holding cups of tea except one of them is actually drinking the tea and one of them is talking too rapidly about equivalent exchange to remember to blink, let alone have a sip of earl gray that has veered violently past lukewarm and is headed straight for room temperature

if 14 is in a not-wordy mood tho… thru shaun’s expert tutelage he has mastered the art of the Dad Nod. he passes shaun in the hall and gives him a little nod. shaun gives him one back. 0 words are spoken but they understand each other on a deeper level than if there had been.

they go on a Family Outing to a thrift store. rose and donna disappear to the dressier sections. shaun creeps along the racks of trousers, solemnly comparing seemingly identical pairs of jeans. 14 follows him and stares for a while, then silently hands him a loudly patterned pair of shorts. shaun takes them without question and adds them to his basket & sylvia loses her mind just a little bit when she sees him wearing them

(^ this inspired by going thrifting w my friend and looking @ everything and then finding her dad looking thru the racks of shorts comparing two beige ones, and my friend handing him a pair of pink shorts with penguins on and him buying them. because he has some . i think plaid shorts? at home and when he wore them his wife said he looked gay. so he’s trying to do it More) (it's an incredible family dynamic there. i have no idea what is going on)

god jesus. 14 learns how to cook so he can be the housething (as opposed to housewife or househusband. he is just a weirdgenderthing. little creature). someone buys him a nice apron and he wears it with so much delight. chases everyone else out of the kitchen so he can concoct something lovely. runs out into the garden to stick something into an oven in the tardis kitchen because “i am not working with enough ovens, here, people!”. organises the pantry and gets this crazed look if anyone tries to stop him. “how will i know where things a—” “it will be LABELLED.” brandishes a label maker that DEFINITELY is not from modern-day earth given that it seems to take dictation as input and can print in colour and has not needed a refill of paper even though he has extensively labelled EVERY PLASTIC BOX of stuff in the pantry

sometimes he gets into Moods where he needs to solve a problem before it makes his head explode and that used to be a like. tinkering in the tardis thing. where he’d have himself and whatever poor companion he was with just floating in the time vortex for a week while he tries to make this bit of the tardis do what he wants it to. now it’s a day or two spent almost entirely in the kitchen trying to find the scientifically optimal method by which to make meringues. he starts gesturing dramatically with a spatula forgetting it is not a sonic screwdriver. makes a sonic spatula. realises he doesn’t often need to like. scan a pancake for malware. sadly puts the sonic spatula away

he is absolutely a nightmare to watch movies with btw bc a) can’t sit still b) so tall. either he is bouncing his leg and shaking the whole couch or he is stretched out across the entire sofa. no in between. donna buys a thick rug so he can just lay on the floor. the rug is TOO comfortable and he starts just spending time laying on the floor which would be fine if he thought to turn the lights on because people keep almost stepping on him while he’s having 4am Floor Time (on the nights he's not drooling all over donna's pillow)

if anyone else has thoughts about Them PLEASe share i will love you so much and forever. doctor~donna/shaun weirdcule is the only thing in my head

#me.txt #doctor who #14th doctor #doctordonna #donna noble #this is ALMOST fic but not quite. i feel like i should tag it something specific #doctor who headcanon #that works i think

[intuitively-her]

How can you improve your finances?

Pile 1-(Page of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, Page of cups, 7 of cups, Knight of swords, 3 of swords, 4 of wands rx, 9 of swords, Death) *angel answers: You're ready! ; communicate clearly with others

You've gotta do some self-improvement babe. Get focused and figure out what career path fits you best. Now is the time to hustle! Separate your needs and wants. Figure out your likes and dislikes. Stop being so unsure of yourself. You've got this! Set small goals, and then move to the bigger ones. Life is not a race. Pace yourself. Stop searching for the "perfect" thing and realize the potential that already surrounds you. Everything you need is right in front of you. Literally at your fingertips! You've got to change your negative thinking and eliminate your fears as well. It seems like you had some type of falling out with someone or maybe there was some drama at a past workplace. It feels like this has caused you to turn cold and not be as receptive to others. You need to connect and put yourself out into the world more. Closing yourself off like this will only create more blockages.

Pile 2-(Temperance, Wheel of fortune, 6 of pentacles rx, Queen of swords, King of swords, The Moon rx, Ace of swords, 8 of cups, 8 of swords) *angel answers: Don't stop! ; Ask your angels

It's time to pour into your own cup for once. Do something nice for yourself. Even if it means a solo date/vacation. Practice discipline with people and certain habits you have. This could include smoking, etc. Learn to say no! Stop hanging out with that certain friend/lover when you know you shouldn't be. This could even be people that come and ask you for money often. Don't be so over extensive to others. Not everyone deserves your time and energy. You need to start seeing people/situations for what they really are. Take your rose-colored glasses off pls. Your environment/whoever you're choosing to spend time with is literally holding you back. You're too distracted and over giving to others right now. Go into hermit mode and focus on yourself for a while.

Pile 3-(The Star, The High Priestess, 9 of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, 5 of pentacles, The Sun, 2 of swords, 5 of wands, Queen of cups, Knight of cups, Page of wands) *angel answers: It's up to you! ; Ask for help from others *angel # confirmation: 555

You need to stay true to yourself and do what you feel is right. Follow your intuition! It's stronger than what you think. I feel like sometimes you let opinions of others affect you. This may cause you to get in your head a lot about whether or not you're doing the right thing. These people could never reach the success that you're meant to reach in this life. So stop giving their opinions so much weight. Stop caring what others think. Stop telling people about your ideas. Just follow your dreams! Whatever creative ideas you have right now, put them into action. Maybe you've been wanting to start a small business or something related? DO IT! I'm also feeling like you don't enjoy a lot of attention and may like to remain in the background. You're meant to be in the spotlight babe! You've gotta get used to it. I think there's actually many people that would want to collaborate with you. You have to express yourself more. BE WHO YOU ARE!🤣 Seriously tho, you need to get comfortable in you own skin. Let people see the real you. You're way too amazing to keep yourself hidden the way you do.😘

*channeled song: Human nature by Madonna

Pile 4-(8 of wands, The Lovers rx, 3 of cups, 2 of cups, 2 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, 6 of cups, 6 of swords) *angel answers: Wait! ; Romance *angel # confirmation: 888

You need some balance in your life. I'm feeling in your relationships mainly. This could be with family. Maybe there's some loose ends from your past that still need to be tied? You've gotta balance your work and play as well. It's okay to let yourself have fun, but not to the point where the party life controls you. For others, you need to go out and have more fun! Stop keeping yourself so wrapped up in work. Practice having more control in situations and standing your ground. Stop letting others walk all over you. Travel would benefit you as well. Even if it's just an hour or so away. I feel like seeing different walks of life will open your mind to new possibilities. Lastly, you need to go with the flow of life more. I know you're probably tired of hearing that.🤣 Everything will happen as it's supposed to tho. You are right where you need to be. I promise babe.

#tarot #tarot reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick an image

[winchesterandpie]

Twistin' The Night Away

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x short!reader

Word Count: 1329

Warnings: None, this is entirely fluff! Not extensively proofread

A/N: So, I was baking and listening to Sam Cooke and this idea just came out of nowhere and I had to write it. I can't share the products of my baking with you, but I can share this. They're similarly sweet, so it's basically the same thing! Enjoy!!

You breathed a sigh of relief as you walked through your door after getting fresh groceries. In the past, you had sometimes put the chore off for later in the weekend, but you’d found you didn’t enjoy your free time quite as much with it hanging over your head. So today, you’d gotten it done by 11 am and had the rest of the weekend to relax.

Once you had everything put away, you turned to your little box of recipes, looking for whatever had been tugging at your mind all week. No, it wasn’t that one… or that one… Aha! Strawberry orange muffins. Yes, that’s it. That was the craving you hadn’t been able to name.

Humming to yourself, you scrolled through your playlists, debating what songs you wanted to bake to today. Your thumb froze over one you hadn’t listened to in forever, but you knew it was perfect. 

A long time ago, when you were in graduate school and Bradley had been in his early days in the Navy, you had listened to this playlist frequently. Especially when you had time to bake. As the first song started, you couldn’t help but remember one of those days in your small apartment’s kitchen.

It had been a long week. Bradley had been insanely busy, you had been kept in the lab late to keep up with a deadline, and the two of you had barely seen each other. It was strange how unusual that felt, after all, you hadn’t been dating all that long. But then, you had quickly started to spend more time together until you were practically inseparable.

Now, it was the weekend. Between your deadline finally passing and Bradley’s first free weekend in ages, you were certainly going to take advantage of it. Hoping he wouldn’t wake just yet, you snuck out from under his arm in bed and to the kitchen. 

If he kept sleeping, you could surprise him with warm muffins for breakfast.

You set the ingredients on the counter, careful to shut the cupboard doors gently, but winced a little when you remembered that these muffins required the use of your blender. That would certainly wake him.

And it did, though he still managed to sneak up behind you. The first you knew of him being up was when his hands slid around your hips. Bradley pulled himself to you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin there.

“You’re up early for a day off,” you teased him lightly as you stirred everything together.

“I could say the same to you,” he returned.

It was oddly comforting to feel his chin moving against your hair as he spoke. You decided you liked the feeling, setting down the spoon so you could turn and wrap your arms around him properly. He smiled softly down at you.

You rose up onto your tiptoes, and he met you halfway so you could kiss him, just the briefest press of your lips to his. Then, unable to resist, you kissed him again.

“Hi,” you greeted him quietly.

He huffed a laugh, but returned your greeting all the same, nudging your nose with his. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” you admitted, scrunching your face at him in mock reproach.

“I can go back to bed if you want,” he started to take a step backward, taking his warmth with him.

You grabbed his wrist before you could even think, and then you realized that his hands had never loosened their hold on you. He had never intended to go at all. So you shoved his arm lightly as he chuckled at last.

“Kidding, kidding.” He stepped close again, making your brain shortcircuit. “Can I help?”

You met his gaze a little sheepishly before answering, “I just have to put the batter in the tin and then put them in the oven. There isn’t really anything for you to do.”

“Can I just keep you company then?”

“Of course! Next time, we’ll make something together, how’s that?”

“Perfect,” he said, his hazel eyes lighting up at your offer. “Anything’s perfect with you.”

You turned back to the pan to hide the way his comment made you grin like a fool. You felt your cheeks heating up too. Though you couldn’t disagree--you’d do anything so long as you could do it with him. You just weren’t quite ready to say it out loud.

He knew though, you knew he did. It was in the way his arms wrapped around you this time while you lined the tin with little paper muffin cups. It was in the way he swiped a taste of the batter from the spoon before you could drop it into the tin. It was in the way he shuffled over to the oven with you so you could slide the tray onto the oven rack and start a timer. 

It was especially in the way he reached for his phone and started the playlist you knew was your own and held his hand out for you to take. Bradley spun you once as Sam Cooke’s Twistin’ The Night Away started to play. You laughed brightly, using your grip on his hand to keep you twisting in time with him.

The song had a long list of fond memories attached to it, but this might well become your favorite, you had thought. 

As it turned out, you were right, and baking and dancing became one of your favorite ways to de-stress with Bradley when you had the energy for it.

You were so caught up in the recollection that you didn’t hear the garage door, nor your husband calling a greeting to you. You did, however, feel his hands sneaking around your hips and the kisses he pressed to your shoulder, working his way up your neck and cheek. 

You tilted your head to the side to give him better access to your skin. “Hello to you too, Captain Bradshaw.”

“Hiya, honey. Making muffins without me?” His voice sent pleasant shivers down your spine.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d be home. Thought I’d surprise you.”

“How are you real?” 

You’d asked yourself the same question about him more than once over the years, and you knew there was no real answer needed. Instead, you shrugged and brought one of his hands up so you could kiss the back of it.

“You are so sweet to me,” he said at last, shaking his head as you turned to face him.

You hadn’t always been. That’s not to say you had been mean--just… guarded. You used to hide the sweetness with your prickly edges, trying to protect yourself from getting hurt. Bradley had worked his way around that and helped you let the spiny defenses fall away with his own sweetness. He was, in a way, the very reason you let yourself be so sweet with him.

“I love you,” was all you could say. Three words. Not nearly enough, and yet somehow they could contain the multitude of your feelings. 

“I love you too.”

He bent to kiss you tenderly, intertwining his fingers with yours. Bradley’s kisses had always made you dizzy, and today was no exception. Your free hand found his cheek, brushing back and forth.

Then the familiar burst of energetic drums and trumpet followed whatever song you hadn’t paid attention to. Neither of you could help but pull back laughing. Gosh, you loved his laugh. 

Bradley stole another quick kiss before spinning you around. You found yourself quite unable to stop laughing as the two of you danced. You twisted up and back and up again, complementing each other’s moves with synchrony you’d perfected together.

You thought to yourself then that you’d happily bake and dance your way through the rest of your life as long as you could do it with him. Little did you know, he was thinking exactly the same. So you did.

Top Gun Taglist (lmk if you want to be tagged in the future!):

@malindacath @army24--7 @mads-weasley

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun maverick #i am not responsible for any cavities you get as a result of reading this fic

[wazzappp]

I drew. a lot for this. Also heads up for non RE mutuals this is going to be. confusing for you. I'm going to do my best to annotate and provide context but you are in for a wild ride.

Anyway long ass lore post for how Lisa and Robbie go from fighting to working together in this AU.

In the RE8 cannon all of the Dimitrescu daughters are made at the same time but for the sake of ✨the situations✨ I am going to change that. Lisa lived the longest as a human before being assimilated into the mold with a Cadou (infecting extension of the Megamycite). Technically her 'sisters' are older than her, as they were assimilated a while ago. Lisa has been a member of house Dimitrescu for about 2 years now. This puts her in this. Weird middle child zone. She wants to make her 'family' proud but she's also aware that what makes them proud isn't really the most achievable thing in the world (expecially with Bela to contend with. Older sibling overachiever to the maximum). She's got a certain degree of distance from them and sometimes wonders if she wasn't better off before all of this. Her memories are fuzzy but still there for the most part. She cant remember faces or names but she remembers feelings and situations. She doesen't remember families being like this (she wants OUT).

Chasing prey brought in is fairly standard for her. It's some of the only entertainment she gets. So when she catches Robbie exploring around the castle she has no idea that he's special in any way. He's just some new guy she gets to mess with before eating and DAMN he's FUN. If she didn't know any better she could almost think that he has experience being chased around (he does. he very much so does. all of RE7's worth). What she ALSO doesn't know is that Mother Miranda (big bad. Different from Lady Dimitrescu, who she refers to as 'mother') is planning on using Gabe (who is replacing baby Rose in this) to try and resurrect her dead kid with a 'perfect vessel' and this requires. uh. disassembly (in the base RE8 gameplay the reason Ethan goes to each house is because uhhhhhhhh his infant daughter has been dismembered and stored in jars and he needs to collect them so he can put her back together.... yeah). Robbie intervenes before this can get going and is instead going house to house because if he wants to get out of this stupid fuckass villiage he needs to collect the key components to unlock the gate keeping him in here (i need him to have a reason. to kill everyone. its important to me ok).

When Lisa finds out this random, but fun guy, she's been chasing who she thought was JUST SOME NORMAL GUY killed one of her sisters she mentally goes 'Oh. OH. THERES A CHANCE FOR ME TO GET OUT OF HERE'. That in conjunction with discovering Mother Miranda is planning on FULLY DISMEMBERING A CHILD she uh. Makes some decisions.

What you have to understand about her plans of matricide is that neither Lady Dimitrescu or her sisters can actually really fully die. Sure, their bodies are gone, but their consciousness is stored in the hive mind and they can reform later after gathering their strength. If she has to put her kinda shitty found family in time out for the sake of getting herself out of here + keeping her newly revived conscience clean she's absolutely going to do it.

(fuckin. backgrounds. dialogue. fuck. why can things not just take place inside of the void. DUKE MY BELOVED WE LOVE AND RESPECT DUKE IN THIS HOUSE HES A REAL ONE fuck now I got it in my head that he keeps trying to play matchmaker for them and i need to. go draw that because its too funny not to.)

Lisas plan involves this lab I had her mention in the comic above. It's where Robbie needs to go to synthesize more poison for the dagger of deaths flowers, and SUPPOSEDLY where a medicine that might allow her to go outside again might be (enemies of Lisas type become SIGNIFICANTLY weaker in the cold. She could try to bundle up but its still really not a good idea). She would love to go there herself, but it's in an area of the castle thats exposed to the cold of the outdoors.

The Two of them make a fairly decent team and Lisa finds herself having a LOT more fun hunting with someone else than she does on her own. They balance each other out pretty well; Robbie works primarily with guns so he can watch Lisas back while she's up close wrecking any grunts they run into. It's also pretty helpful having someone who can turn into a swarm of flies for puzzle solving purposes.

After all this Robbies trust for her increases SIGNIFICANTLY. He's still not really sure about her, but she's moved out of the 'active threat' classification into the 'kinda helpful' zone.

Lisa's plan has three ways it could go:

They all fail miserably and get sent to mental and physical time out in the megamycite.

They win and get to go free but either the medicine isn't there or it doesen't work. In which case she's just planning on getting as many coats as possible and Try-or-Die-ing it.

The medicine is there and she actually gets to roam free

Luckily for her, the medicine IS there, it DOES work, and Robbies sense of honor / noticing her usefulness (its hard to wage a one man war on an entire community of mutants ok you cant blame him for appreciating having some ACTUAL HELP for once) all align for the best possible scenario.

The cold does still affect her; her healing isn't as quick as it usually is and her increased strength / speed is a bit reduced, but she can go!! outside!!

She decided to stick with Robbie in getting out of the village as a whole. She doesen't really know what the world outside is like but anything has to be better than here (plus if she stays here she's probably getting shoved into the Megamycite by Mother Miranda PERMENANTLY and that just. wont do).

Also yes Lisa being with Robbie for the rest of his adventures means that she is there for Heisenbergs 'proposal'. She uh. Does not like that much.

this all made. more sense in my head I hope it at least makes a little sense out loud.

#Ive been trying to write this out for 3 hours now. how do fic writers do this shit. HOW. #moose i thought i understood your 'brainworms of a different type'. i was w r o n g #my art #ghost rider re7 au #lisa (ghost rider) #robbie reyes #gabe reyes #sketch #RE!lisa

[bestworstcase]

there’s also just. something about how overwhelmingly ruby identifies herself (/has been identified by everyone she knows) with summer—to such an extreme degree that her self-loathing manifests as castigating herself for not being summer—and how little ruby knows about her at the same time, and how ruby fills in the gaps of what she doesn’t know with pieces of herself. the idea of summer as a funhouse mirror alienating ruby from true self-knowledge because she cannot recognize herself except by looking for her mother. and now she’s tearing away at the foundations of that mirror (life isn’t a fairytale and here, take this, it’s the only keepsake she has of her mother’s and by extension it’s the abstracted image of herself) because she wants to escape who she is—& as this happens the narrative draws the truth of summer rose closer to the surface, no longer the flawless (inhuman) paragon of motherly and heroic virtue but the real person who was (is) both good and bad and complicated; a living breathing individual who i increasingly suspect will turn out to be not very much like ruby at all, not in the sense that she was like ruby once and is now jaded and broken but rather that she never was, because the idea of summer rose is so very strongly informed by who ruby is and the implicit pressure ruby has always felt to ‘live up to’ the memory of this fairytale character everyone says is just. like. her.

it’s less about detangling ruby’s sense of self from summer’s legacy than it is ruby discovering that so much of what she thought she received from her mother was actually just her, all along, projected onto the blank (dehumanized) mannequin of someone she couldn’t remember except as the proverbial knight in shining armor. crescent rose stands apart as the one piece of ruby that has no connection to summer, whether real or imagined, because it carries forward something real—qrow was not a mythic paragon in ruby’s life, he was her uncle, for better and worse, the mentor who trained her and supported her but also the unreliable alcoholic she had to take care of, and from the complicated messiness of genuine connection with another person ruby was able to take inspiration and synthesize it with her personal style and personality to arrive at something that is both proud of its heritage and fully and uniquely her—which is why it’s missing now, because it symbolizes the idea of ruby rose that she wants to escape. (but can’t escape, because so much of what she sees as summer is actually ruby.)

the brooch goes in the other direction; it might be the only thing ruby has that is truly and unambiguously summer’s, so narratively of course she had to give it away. only by sacrificing the one piece of herself that really did belong to summer first can ruby begin to smooth out the funhouse mirror of everything else—she needs to sever the true connection to summer before she can cut through the gordian knot of every illusory connection and discover that she was looking at distortions of herself all along, and only then can she return to the question of summer’s legacy (her real legacy, not the legacy of the paragon) and decide what she wants to carry forward. which is to say, she’s getting the brooch back, but she has to get crescent rose back first—because finding crescent rose means vanquishing the alienation that has made her a stranger to herself, and she can’t truly choose or cherish the things she received from her mother until she really knows herself.

#rwby v9 spoilers #like god she’s so. so fucked up <3 #her whole life she’s just been #inundated with the message that she’s not herself— #she’s summer! she’s just like her mother! #( by the fairytale cult. ) #( is she like summer or are they both the silver-eyed warrior of legend? ) #how do you develop a sense of self #when everyone keeps telling you #that yourself is somebody else? #you can’t! #she is always and only herself #but she thinks herself is her mother #and that she is nothing except her failures #gently pats her head. this 17 year old can fit so much identity disturbance

[variousqueerthings]

TOP THINGS I'M EXCITED FOR IN THE NEW RTD RUN

getting the obvious out of the way, ncuti gatwa

but more specifically, ncuti gatwa is going in with such an exciting awareness of what he got out of doctor who and how that will inform his take

and both he and millie gibson are firmly taking doctor who into the next generation. I don't know a lot about her (and youknow, I'm getting older, so she seems awfully young, but that's really all I know and isn't enough to form an opinion on -- but susan vibes? hoping she won't be a rose!repeat, but I really really don't think that's the intention here), but gatwa is also next!gen whovian (like me), which is very fun. it's a nerdy show, I like it when nerds are involved

the wardrobe is looking so goooood. three also had quite an extensive repertoire especially, and this feels quite closely aligned with that campness (not specifically the exact style ofc, new doctor, but Vibes)

the other obvious out of the way, dtennant and catherine tate

specifically that there's a lot of potential in the 60th anniversary to properly wrap up ten's and donna's arcs in a way that organically interacts with the previous ending they had. some really fun potential to play with theme and genre in that, I'm a sucker for recontextualisation, and for dtennant having a bad time (but then maybe at the end... an okay time?)

I hope this will also more effectively merge the rtd run with moffat's and chibnall's. they did do a bit more of that as they went along, but I think they both went too hard on the reset button (especially moffat). we did then get some more... what I'll call continuity, but it took a bit (look, I know, the continuity is madness on this show, but I like to know it's the same story at least, and not totally excise what came before)

also donna has a kid now, played by yasmin finney. I'm excited for all of that, the fact that she's called rose, casting yasmin finney, another form of bringing it into the present, rather than it being all about the past, the fact that she's teased in the trailer, but there's so much more to see

speaking of casting -- camp and queerness! so many of the casting announcements have been queer actors, and you know rtd loves queering shit up, and he's got soooo much more freedom to do so now than he did in 2005. It won't just be in the casting, it'll be in the stories and the character-writing

references to classic!who and other dw!materials, as always, and of course rtd loves that. I just like how much of nu!who is having fun with classic!who. and updating it of course

I said it before but. I like watching dtennant be upset. he does it very well. perhaps even tears who knows...

EDIT: CONSIDERING THE NEW THEME SONG REVEAL ALSO FORGOT TO SAY MURRAY GOLD'S MUSIC!!!

some things I'm hoping for:

that the continuity of the last series won't be severed, especially in regards to the various regenerations that have been since ten

similarly that ten's arc interacts both with how they died/what happened with donna, and that they've been other bodies since then and so there has been growth and change, but what does that mean to a multi-lifed being?

that ruby and the doctor won't have a romantic will-they-won't-they and that generally the doctor continues to be a character through which those sorts of things can be interrogated (perhaps more deliberately now than in the past....)

that there will be some more ideas about gender, as has been increasingly played with over the last few years

that ncuti gatwa being black influences the kinds of stories being told in regards to what kind of history and future is important

that rose's part in the specials is important (I mean, even the fact that she's donna's kid is already important, but on her own as well -- that she gets something cool to do)!

that UNIT won't be toooo involved. I'm currently watching three from the start and I remember that UNIT does a lot in that one, and that's fine, I get that there's precedent. but also they're not my favourite part of DW, generally the doctor being associated with Institutions of a military nature. makes sense for three, who's relatively trapped on earth, and I like the way it's one of humanity's ways of reacting to alien life both in classic and nu!who, but never trust military. anyway, UNIT's fine for the specials, also ties in previous seasons with kate, but hoping won't be so much in ncuti gatwa's arcs. or that there's more conflict involved with them being involved

that new writers are brought onboard, especially women, black writers, and millennials

that it'll still be sincere. that it won't suffer from irony poisoning and over-reliance on references (don't think the latter is so much the issue), and that the bigger budget won't erode its ability to tell deeply personal intimate person stories, which has been an issue over the last few years and could be a problem in future. this isn't the show of massive explosions and michael by action, it's the show or a bunch of nerds who want to see practical effect aliens and cry about them

#doctor who #dw #david tennant #rtd #russell t davies #catherine tate #ncuti gatwa #millie gibson #the doctor has travelled with minors before -- not that millie is a minor #but we dont know how old ruby is yet do we? #and whether she's 19 playing 19 or 19 playing a 15 or 16 or 17 yr old #there's more im sure but off the top of my head this is it

[moonah-rose]

"What are you doing here, Dutch?"

"Same as you, I suppose." (RDR2)

"You're just like me, John. You can't change who you are." (RDR1)

Okay I'm currently hyperfixated on these boys and I gotta talk about how fascinating this relationship is.

Because while Dutch and Arthur's relationship is heartbreaking, there's something even more crushing about Dutch and John over the course of both games.

To start we're told by both Arthur and Bill that John is the "favorite", that he's "Dutch's pet", "the golden boy", even Micah brings it up in chapter six. Part of Arthur's bitterness over John's return is how cool Dutch seemed to be about it, how he was welcomed back with open arms. However nearly all the interactions we see (or rather Arthur sees) between Dutch and John are very tense and grow more heated over the game until they're outright screaming at each other - and of course things get as bad as they can be in rdr1. But how I imagine things used to be, pre-Blackwater or pre-John's gap year, was Dutch did dote on John and John worshipped him in return. John seems to have been found the youngest that we know of, twelve years old, so he was as much of a child as can be, which allowed Dutch to mold him into a younger version of himself, whereas Arthur was clearly more Hosea's son. Dutch taught John to sound smart without really saying anything, while Arthur learned from Hosea to be smarter than he appeared. To compare the two, I think Arthur was Dutch's joy (the mirror of his best friend, his first son) but John was his pride (his own reflection). It's very typical narcissist parent behavior to latch onto the youngest or one that most resembles you most as they're the most obvious extension of yourself. And for as long as John obeyed and adored Dutch, that fuelled his own ego - fitting then how Dutch's mental decline runs in parallel to John drifting away and learning to be his own person, a father in his own right, and seeing who Dutch is without rose tinted glasses. And the stronger John gets, the more Dutch feels threatened, like when he accuses John of "wanting to be the General". Dutch is a loving granddad to Jack and caring to Abigail, encouraging John to be a good father, but not if it means they become more important than the gang (ie Him). I also think a lot of the insults Dutch hurls at John later on are things he could be partly saying about himself, how he doesn't have the grit, how he's always been weak or blind. The more Dutch fails, the more he targets John as a punching bag for his own failures, to the point of wanting to leave him to rot as he admits in one hidden BH scene.

Side note, this also feeds into his resentment of Arthur, firstly of also no longer being a yes man, but Dutch also notes how much Arthur sounds like Hosea - except Dutch was ignoring Hosea right from the start of the game, even if he did help keep Dutch grounded to some sense of reality, Arthur is a reminder of Dutch's recent loss and also insulted at the idea of Arthur replacing Hosea - that's not Arthur's job, in his mind, it's just to be his big scary grunt. Once he's becoming weaker, he doesn't see the purpose in having Arthur around if he's just going to question and possibly (if he believes Micah) betray him. And he writes Arthur off as dead anyway once he starts getting sick, he already lost Hosea, he's not putting himself through that again so it's easy to just leave him for dead. But despite all that, Arthur still loves Dutch enough to ride back and try one last time to convince his "father" that Micah is out to get him, he even spends his last breaths begging him to see sense - not for his own sake, but the man who raised him.

But with John it's a different, more raw tragedy that Dutch's self-loathing and insanity grow in their time apart, despite both clearly having had Arthur's shadow hanging over them, eventually pushing them to the exact same destination on the exact same day with the exact same purpose - to kill Micah. John has been haunted by guilt that Arthur had to sacrifice himself for him, while Dutch has been haunted by (imo) the guilt of leaving Arthur to die as well as allowing Micah to manipulate him. But both men are also not killing "for Arthur's sake" here, more their own, as they both know Arthur didn't agree with revenge. But they do it to try to ease their own consciences. For John it works, for Dutch it just sends him off into isolation and his eventual fate.

And the saddest thing is, John thanks him. Even after everything Dutch did to him and Abigail, he makes an attempt to reach out. There was a brief glimpse from John of the boy who loved his adoptive father, but Dutch's ice cold stare and silence remind them they can never go back to what was. And John let's him go. But this moment seems to change something in John's perspective, as earlier he had always said he believed Dutch had been hiding who he was the whole time, but by the time of RDR1 he's saying similar things as Sadie that Dutch was a good man who "went insane". He now wants to believe that there was a part of Dutch that cared, long ago, but it's now gone.

The Dutch that John eventually has to hunt down is different than the one he last saw on Mount Hagen, the one who admitted that he didn't have much to say anymore, the man who still cared enough to spare John and leave him the Blackwater money. Dutch is now a complete bloodthirsty monster who kills for sport, who openly calls Abigail a whore and Jack a whore's son - the same boy he once doted on, found a puppy with, that he rode into hell for. His disgust for John, his boy, working for the government, being the "rat" he feared him to be, is enough to get him to not hold back on shooting him anymore, but I also can't help but think most of his words are egging John on to get him. "You'll have to kill me, John!" he yells. But when it comes to just the two of them, both on a mountain yet again, they both put away their guns. It's the closest thing we get in the first game to a hint of their past relationship, of father and son, rather than adversaries. John's name, his "golden boy's" name, is the last thing to leave Dutch's lips before he falls. The speech the same one he said with Arthur at his side. As insane as he was, he spent those last moments thinking of his sons, and possibly Hosea too, before he fell, how he wasn't able to fight his own cowardly nature to do right by them, you can't change my mind.

And while John would never talk about it openly, its just awful to think how this man had to watch the father he loved and who doted on him back, to slowly become a monster, to hating each other, trying to kill each other, then to see a glimpse of what was but being unable to save him. It also adds context to his own behavior to Jack, how he tries to be a doting father but doesn't discourage him too much from having his own interests, as much as they confuse him.

And then, the final nail in this angst coffin, walking out to face his own death knowing Dutch was right, that they did just find another monster to come for.

#rdr2 #rdr2 meta #dutch van der linde #john marston #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #horsegirl daddy issues

[blue-thief]

kaiser backstory speculation

honestly his backstory could be literally anything but i figured i might as well throw this idea out there

the things we DO know about him:

he's heavily implied/coded to have religious trauma

he's heavily implied/coded to have narcissistic personality disorder (stuff about npd)

disclaimer: i am no expert on psychology, take everything i say here with a grain of salt

there are many possible causes for NPD, but if we consider it in conjunction with his character's motifs of religion, we could narrow down possibilities a bit. kaiser has an intense desire for external validation (or, as isagi words it, "kaiser is obsessed (with) trophies and results"), and it can be assumed this desire stems from how he was raised. the link above states that environmental factors that can cause NPD include:

an abundance of adoration or criticism from a parent

overprotective or neglectful parenting

the most glaring example of religious symbolism concerning kaiser is the etymology of his full name: michael kaiser, "god's chosen emperor". specifically, "michael" can be interpreted as "chosen by god". there is nothing to support the common headcanon that kaiser was the one who chose his name, but this is likely a deliberate choice from the author that may give the reader some insight into kaiser's character.

something kaiser DID choose was his tattoo. everyone is familiar with the symbolism behind the blue rose, but there has not been much discussion around the rest of his tattoo. the thorned vines are attached to the crown on his hand which may be an allusion to jesus' crown of thorns. this, paired with the crucifix-like "execution" pose he used when he first showed of kaiser impact, indicates he positions himself to be like jesus, the "son", with an obsession of being "chosen" by the "father".

here are a few ideas:

he had an absent father

his father was present but neglectful and/or abusive in some other way

the absence of kaiser's father could be the root of his insecurity and his desire for validation. this can be paired with the idea that his father's absence negatively affected kaiser's mother too, making the one parental figure present in kaiser's life an abusive one. it's fair to speculate that the abuse was probably of a physical nature considering the fact he choked himself to find a way to beat isagi. if kaiser's father WAS present, there's a chance he was the one who instilled this practice in kaiser.

again, i don't have an extensive knowledge of psychology, so please correct me if anything here is incorrect! i just wanted to throw this out here in case this is what his backstory actually ends up being so i get bragging rights over guessing correctly lol

#years of religion classes in catholic charter schools just so i could talk about my blorbo's disorders #blue lock #bllk #michael kaiser

[jeonqkooks]

Hey 🧡

Can I request number 15 (angst) - "I see the way you look at them" with Jimin?

hopelessly devoted | pjm

pairing: jimin x f!reader, side namjoon x f!reader

rating: PG

genre/warnings: angst, unrequited love au, jimin is a sad boi :(, idk i think that's it lol there's not much other than $4D

word count: 1.3k

note: i hope you're still around anon and i hope you like this <3 !! also massive thank you's to @daechwitatamic and @jeonwiixard for beta-ing me and not letting me think it was a flaming pile of garbage lol! i love uuuuuu 💕

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin turns to the left to meet the eyes of a man whose name he still hasn’t bothered learning. They’ve met a few times at birthday parties and other group dinners, but not once has Jimin officially spoken to him. He just knows him as one of Namjoon’s friends.

“What was that?” Jimin asks in a low voice, as to not disturb the scene that’s about to unfold in the adjacent room – the room that he, a dozen of his friends and strangers spent the whole day decorating with heart-shaped balloons and rose petals. The door is cracked open just a few inches so he could hear everything that’s going on and know when to burst in when the time is right. 

He sees you with your back turned to him. How fitting; him, always standing behind you, forced to watch you keep your eyes on another man.

“You’re a saint,” the man repeats simply, eyes full of pity, and Jimin realizes then that this stranger knows a secret of his that even you aren’t privy to. “I see the way you look at her.”

Jimin calmly blinks, even though he’s just been caught, bleeding heart and all. A single sentence, cutting him open a few feet away from where love is in full bloom.

He should be scrambling to deny any and all accusations, scoff and pretend that he has no idea what the stranger is insinuating.

Instead, he reminds himself to breathe. He doesn’t have anything to hide, at least not anymore. He’s only a guy, hopelessly in love with a girl who is hopelessly in love with someone else. The excitement radiating off everyone except for him is palpable. Your girlfriends can barely stay quiet and keep from ruining the moment for you and Namjoon. They bounce on their feet in anticipation, unaware that right next to them, Jimin is still wishing on a comet he saw a lifetime ago, that you would turn around. That you would leave everything just to go to him, to finally see him.

“That obvious, huh?” Jimin asks, teasingly self-deprecating even in the face of heartbreak. 

What he gets in return is a shrug. “I don’t understand how you can be so selfless,” the man says. “I could never watch the girl I have feelings for be happy with someone else.”

Jimin hums sagely. It isn’t even the truth. He doesn’t want to be selfless, he wants to be selfish. He wants to storm into the room and shake you by the shoulders until you understand that his affection for you extends far beyond the confines of friendship. 

He would do anything you ask him to. By extension, he supposes what Namjoon wants falls under this category too. If there’s anything that anyone should know about Jimin, it’s that he would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you’re happy, even if it means putting on a smile and telling Namjoon yes when the other man came to him for help on proposing to you.

Love shouldn’t hurt like this, but it does.

Jimin watches the scene unfold through the crack of the door. He hears the deafening beats of his heart in his ears while everybody waits for the crescendo.

Namjoon gets on one knee, and your friends can all see the exact moment your world stops.

Time halts, and Jimin reminisces.

Four hundred and seventy five days.

That’s how long he’s been thinking about the improbability of you and him, and about how things could’ve gone so differently had he been braver just a little sooner.

Four hundred and seventy five nights Jimin has spent, lying in his bed alone and staring at the ceiling. Restless and aching to the bone. Because four hundred and seventy five days ago, he finally managed to gather the courage to tell you how he felt about you after weeks of nerve wracking contemplation and years of unspoken, untested love. He’d rehearsed countless times what he was going to tell you. There had even been a speech planned, for when you rejected him and told him that the pair of you would be better off as friends.

It took him everything just to stand in front of your door that night, with his love so tangible he could hold it in his hands, clumsily prepared to ask you to keep it.

When you opened the door and flashed him that ever glowing sunshine smile of yours, his heart almost gave out. Five minutes later, it did, but for a reason he hadn’t seen coming. With that beautiful grin still plastered on your face, you uttered the words that completely knocked him off his axis.

“Namjoon asked me out today.”

Kim Namjoon, the man you had been crushing on ever since you laid eyes on him two months prior. He was part of the reason why Jimin decided to grow a pair and confess to you, but as it seems, the universe had other intentions.

He was one step behind.

Always just a step behind.

With every milestone that you reached with Namjoon, the part of him that always held out hope that it’d be you and him in the end gradually chipped away. Your anniversaries, the first time you met each other’s parents, and eventually, when you agreed to move in with Namjoon… Every time he listened to you talk about your boyfriend with a twinkle in your eyes, Jimin could only nod along and smile, muttering words of encouragement to you because he was a good friend.

He was a good friend and he was happy that you were happy.

Despite how much he wished it had been him in Namjoon’s place instead.

Despite how much he thought it should’ve been him.

Jimin understands it better than most people: Love is pain.

The irony isn’t lost on him, how the same word means such different things for the both of you.

You say yes, because of course you do. You’re the princess and Namjoon is Prince Charming, destined to come in and sweep you off your feet. This is your fairytale ending and Jimin is standing right here, merely a bystander to your happiness.

As Namjoon slips the diamond ring onto your delicate finger, Jimin has to grasp the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he will never be the main character in the story of your life. Your tears spill over and he watches Namjoon wipe them away. He commits to memory the complete and utter joy you wear when your now fiance gathers you in his arms and gently spins you around, the content smiles on both your faces blurry from a distance.

Or perhaps it’s Jimin’s own vision clouding from the sting he feels piercing through his chest.

His heartbeat is so loud that he can’t even hear Namjoon usher everybody in. He doesn’t really register his surroundings until your friends all rush to your side with delighted squeals of congratulations.

Jimin has never seen you look this happy before. Surrounded by the love of your life and all your closest friends, you radiate a glow that he has only ever witnessed in his dreams. Nobody seems to notice that he’s still standing there, rooted to the ground, while people celebrate what must be one of the most memorable moments of your life.

It’s not until your gaze dances across the room and lands on him in the dark that Jimin remembers how to fake a smile again. He immediately perks up for your sake, though he’s sure that you aren’t even conscious of the brave face he’s putting on.

He walks over to you then, wearing a bright grin and dragging a sunken heart that no one else can see. The hug you share is one he wishes could last for an eternity, before you leave him for someone else forever. The stranger’s eyes burn the side of his face.

Tonight is just another sleepless night.

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 27.02.23]

#jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin fluff #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fanfic #jimin imagines #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bangtanbathhouse #btscarnivalnet #btshoneyhive #clubzerooclock #52hertz #fic: hopelessly devoted

[letsquestjess]

Something Sweet (Wrecker x GN!Reader)

Summary: While waiting for Wrecker to return from a mission, you decide to use your baking skills to make him a cake. Needless to say, he's delighted when he sees it.

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Little kisses.

A/N: Finally got it done, my first Reader fic. I don't think I included any references to anything specific about the reader's appearance so I've labelled it as gender neutral but please let me know if you spot anything. Also, if you'd like to be added to the taglist for future fics, feel free to send me a message.

-- -- -- -- --

With a click of the latch, the final cluster of cupcakes finally made it into the oven, leaving clouds of flour, chocolate powder and splotches of butter in their wake. You set the timer and scoured the mess from your hands. Droplets of blue and silver seeped into the running water. By the sink, a stack of bowls and utensils teetered perilously close to toppling as they waited to be cleaned. How you managed the colossal order in such a short amount of time, you didn’t know, but the brunt of it was done. 

“What are you still doing here?” Mica chuckled as she freed her coat from the hook and draped it over her shoulder. “You should have clocked out ages ago. If you need extra hours, you can just ask.”

“Massive order came in this afternoon,” you replied. You gestured to the monitor beneath the cabinets and your boss examined the extensive list, her cheeks bloating and deflating with a lengthy exhale. 

“They want all this by tomorrow morning? Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have helped.”

“Because you have been busy with the bank,” you told her. “And it’s not like I couldn’t manage it. I’m almost done. Just need the last lot to finish and get some icing on them.” 

“I can help now,” Mica said, swapping her jacket for an apron and carefully dislodging the used bowls from the top of the unruly mountain. “You keep an eye on those cakes and I’ll sort these dishes.”

“Yes, boss.” 

For a while, the kitchen settled into a symphony of foamy splashes and metallic clangs. You removed the last batch from the oven and set them down to cool, getting started on the dozens of others that demanded their dab of icing and cheerful sprinkles. 

“So,” Mica drew out. “When are you going to see your admirer again?” 

You hesitated in your intricate work, the nozzle of the piping bag hovering centimetres above the delicate cupcake. “I have no idea what you mean. Who says I have an admirer?” 

“Stop avoiding the question. You know who I mean. The big guy who always comes in here with that love-struck grin on his face. The one who has you floundering every time you see him.”

“It’s nothing,” you insisted, sounding far more guilty than you intended. 

“Oh, okay.” Mica hummed, pausing for a fraction of a second before adding, “is that why there is a cake decorated like a missile in the pantry?” 

Closing your eyes and cursing yourself for not taking the gift home to finish, you rose from the worktop. You had planned to take it to your apartment, encase it in a pristine cardboard box with a ribbon to prepare for Wrecker’s return. But time had run away from you. Again. 

“I bought all the ingredients myself,” you assured her. “It’s just there’s more room here and the temperature in the pantry is better for this kind of thing, but I did plan on finishing it at my apartment, and-”

She cut you off with a wave of her soapy hand and removed the bright yellow gloves, tossing them onto the empty draining board. “Don’t panic yourself, I wouldn’t be mad at you even if you had used the stuff here,” she smiled. “You have more than earned it.”

As the tension drained from your shoulders, you noticed her playful glance transform into a satisfied smirk. “He’s been on mission after mission with no break and no letup,” you explained, “and I thought this would be something nice to cheer him up.” 

“I think it’s cute,” Mica said. She wiped her hands on the wet dish towel before searching the drawer for a new one. 

“If you wanted to head to the bank before it closes, I can finish the rest of this,” you offered. 

“You sure?”

“There’s not a lot to do. I’ll let those dishes dry and lock up once everything is done.” 

Mica grabbed her jacket and gave you a grateful beam before she bounded down the steps and out into the evening. Left to the tranquil hum of the ovens cooling down after a long day of work, you finished the last of the cakes and neatly stacked the full boxes by the hatch for the morning. 

You padded into the pantry once everything was cleaned and manoeuvred Wrecker’s cake from its spot at the back of the shelf, slowly walking it into the kitchen and setting it down on the decorating board. With a few more tweaks, it would be perfect. 

The icing paste squished between your fingers as you blended two blocks with the black and red food colouring, intricately moulding the shapes. After what felt like hours of meticulous work, you finally placed the little sculpted tooka doll onto the cake, rotating the board to admire your creation. Dark shades seamlessly merged into the lighter hues, giving the spongy projectile a whimsical, cartoonish appearance.

When Wrecker had first come into the bakery some months ago, he had looked at the enormous selection in wonder and guided his sister to the pastries. A few days later, he’d returned, and you’d happily shared your knowledge on the delicate art of baking until the oven timer had summoned you. Eventually, after many visits, the conversation shifted, and you both began to share small stories about your past, your interests, and hopes for the future. But you could tell there was more to him than the soldier, something sweet and abundantly kind. 

He had been off-world for the best part of three weeks on a mission for the dubious parlour owner nearby, and your thoughts of him had grown. Initially, you’d managed to push your contemplations aside and focus on your work, but as the days stretched on, you found it harder to ignore them. 

While you washed away the vivid dye from your fingertips, you picked up a distinct pitter patter tapping on the shop’s front door and peeked around the partition. Most of the lights in the display cases had been switched off, casting a murky darkness over the empty shelves. For a brief second, you froze in fear, thinking it could be one of the more dangerous residents of Ord Mantell, but you quickly realised that someone wishing you harm would be unlikely to be so polite. 

Tentatively, you tip-toed through the shop. The figure at the window shifted from foot-to-foot. As a landspeeder zoomed down the road, the headlights illuminated the man lingering outside and you flung the door wide. 

“Wrecker?” you breathed. He looked up, and you swore you could drown in the affectionate smile lighting up his features if he let you.

“I didn’t know if you were still open,” he said as you eagerly ushered him inside, flipping the sign in the window to closed. “I went to your apartment, and you weren’t there, so I figured you might be here.” 

“Guilty as charged,” you replied. “I wasn’t expecting you back so early. When we last spoke, I got the impression you’d be away for a while.”

“Thought I would be, but the job wasn’t too complicated.” 

You bit your lip and gestured for him to accompany you into the kitchen. “Since you’re here, I may as well show you your surprise.”

His eyes sparkled with anticipation as he followed you, a faint flush spreading across his cheeks when he caught sight of the cake. “Did you make this for me?” he asked in a mixture of awe and disbelief. “It’s incredible!”

“Of course I did,” you chuckled. “Unless you know any other ammunition experts with a particular love for missiles and an adorable tooka doll.” Searching through the cutlery draw, you retrieved a knife and cut him an ample portion. He took a large bite and hummed in approval. “Good?” 

“Delicious.”

“You can share it with your siblings if you wanted.”

“No way, this is all mine,” Wrecker insisted as he swallowed the final slivers. 

Your bright smile reached your cheeks, and you gently brushed away the crumbs clinging to the corner of his mouth. He held your hand in place, and you traced the bumps of his scar, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I missed coming in here,” he said, so softly it was almost a whisper, a secret only the two of you shared in the fading heat of the kitchen and the faint air smuggling in through the open window. “I missed talking to you. Seeing that smile.”

“I missed you too, Wrecker,” you admitted. 

His eyes flicked to your mouth, and you answered his unspoken question with a barely perceptible nod. He cupped your face, sweeping his thumbs over the warmth and leaning down to press his lips to yours. Brief yet intoxicating, he drew back. “You’re going to have to teach me how to bake cakes,” he said, nuzzling his nose to yours and revelling in the sweet grin you gave him in return. 

“There’s no time like the present,” you sighed, melting into his arms. “But first I want to kiss you again.”

TAGLIST (Message if you'd like to be added, 18+ only)

@skellymom

#tbb #the bad batch #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #sw tbb fanfiction #sw tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #sw tbb #sw the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb x reader #tbb x you #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #tbb wrecker #wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x you

[strqyr]

i haven't got my thoughts on this completely sorted out so my opinion on this might change like. five minutes later, but atm i really don't think ruby needs to reforge / change crescent rose in any way shape or form.

for one, ruby didn't give crescent rose away like she did with her emblem; it fell before ruby did, and she tried to scramble after it to catch it, letting out a desperate "no!" doing so. she may not be currently actively looking for it, but twice now ruby has reached out for her weapon when faced with the jabberwalker, only to face the reality that it's not there for her.

and while crescent rose is missing, ruby is struggling with her identity, unsure whether she is a huntress or not because her idea of what being a huntress is about is so messed up to the point of being impossible to reach.

"'just weapons'? they're an extension of ourselves! they're a part of us!"

despite being inspired by qrow and harbinger, when you look at crescent rose all you really see is ruby. unlike harbinger—which is a sword first, scythe second—crescent rose is primarily scythe. it's primary color is red, same as ruby. you just don't look at crescent rose and be reminded of summer (who is the main, hidden burden ruby is carrying that no one else can see; they're all focused on penny's death, the fall of atlas, etc.) or anyone else.

like. crescent rose missing is a huge problem, because it's a part of ruby that is so very much about ruby and ruby alone and she doesn't have it while she's struggling. part of her is missing and putting her burdens down to pick another weapon, any that she would like, is not necessarily a good thing; it's ruby letting go of part of herself.

there's also something about what weiss, blake, and yang were offered during their trials, and how they've grown over the years, that echo what ruby is going through right now. the only difference is that wby had to go through their struggles on remnant, where they didn't have an "easy" way out in terms of ascension, while ruby is now going through it in the ever after where she is offered an "easy" way out; she ascends, her memories gone and she can start a new.

but that's resetting character development, so obviously that's not going to happen. but the temptation is there for ruby, which means that 1. she really needs to let others in and tell exactly what she's going through so that they can help her, and 2. she needs to come to the same realization as wby that all the difficulties and pain and what not she's been through have made her to who she is, and that she has grown and learned from it all.

which is why i think crescent rose is the end goal for ruby during her journey in the ever after; finding it, picking it up, is a sign of ruby finding a healthier way to be herself, without trying to be anyone else.

if crescent rose is broken then sure, ruby is going to have to fix it (and in a way, that would be fitting with ruby starting her journey to recovery) but i don't see any drastic changes coming to crescent rose.

#rwby #rwby9 #rwby spoilers #ruby rose #does this make any sense? #i def rambled bc #again #thoughts are not fully there yet #but it's something