#my friends keep dragging me in every rarepair ever

[soappox]

dogboy 4 dogboy☝️with tongue

[fumifooms]

Fleki x Marcille

I dub thee flekille Fourth entry of my “Dunmeshi rarepairs I will birth with my own hands if I have to” series. This one goes really well alongside laicion

Hear me out… Probably one of my most crackpair simply because they never really interact in canon, but it snowballed from me thinking about laicion so many months ago and I genuinely enjoy them a lot on their own now too.

Overview of the appeal: Silly prep girl that tries to not be silly x silly troublemaker that is silly on purpose. Could have been cellmates in another life 😍 /j It’s chaos x order, it’s propriety x will tease you specifically to make you uncomfortable, it’s Fleki sticking around Marcille when she gets the opportunity to because she thinks she’s entertaining, it’s her dragging Marcille to a shitty club that would give anyone epileptic a seizure and Marcille being so out of her depth but finding the thrill intriguing… It’s Fleki’s YOLO attitude rubbing on Marcille a bit, encouraging her to stress less and live more, it’s Marcille looking out for Fleki and teaching her to value her health, her friends and stability in life more. It’s banter, where Fleki is bold and amused and Marcille is panicked and horrified, which as they grow to know each other becomes Fleki teasing and Marcille responds with exasperated but fond comebacks. They have big yuri manga with a bad boy girl vibes, they deserve 50k slow burn rivals to lovers fics exploring the deepest emotional lows imaginable, they deserve cute funny bantery ficlets where they try out rollerskating together and Fleki skates face first into a pole and Marcille heals her up. ALSO it’s the mage who always talks about the importance of hair and braids hers neatly x the mage who keeps her hair long but at MOST brushes it every 3 days and looks feral

We see that Fleki looooves casual physical contact which I think suits Marcille well! Since she’s also big on casual & affectionate physical touches. Oversimplifying it, I kinda see Fleki as a more chaotic and less grumpy Izutsumi, which I think pairs really well with Marcille.

Ok, so the meme + below is my romantic flekille & laicion, qpr laimar & flekion vision… Maybe romantic laimar and flekion too idfc. Fleki’s bestie Lycion and Lycion’s boyfriend Laios and Laios’ girlfriend Marcille and Marcille’s girlfriend Fleki… A bond forged by the shared experience of having a feral partner. In my timeline they start hanging out because laicion starts dating and it goes from there, like they keep showing up at the other’s place to come pick their guy up or when laicion meet up in town at an agreed location both come with their bestie so then as Laios and Lycion head off the girlies just stand there awkwardly for a sec together… And it becomes habit enough that they start talking. One time one arrives early at the other’s place to pick up their dog guy so while she waits on Laios and Lycion being done hanging out they just chat and hit it off around the kitchen table. Eventually maybe they all live together, the girls have a qpr situationship with their respective dog boy too and they all snuggle up together on the couch and life is good… I have a couple of other flekille au ideas though.

The one college au I would EAT UP FR. Anything modern for them is so fun for some reason. They could even have a like… y’know ‘that yuri manga where the prep girl thinks the emo girl’s a boy and she’s interested’ thing (googling it The guy she was interested in wasn’t a guy at all is the name), they feel like they’d have that energy… Except that instead of Fleki being dressed all cool she’s dressed in Minions merch or something. Puke colored tie dye. Marcille cringes but also smth about the cringefail allure has her enraptured (jk it’s mostly Fleki being determinedly clingy) Like come on imagine Fleki with the alpaca trampoline hand tattoo, Marcille would be so endeared. They have the vibes ever, I wanna see them hang out and with Lycion and Laios too

Marcille, seeing this disheveled absolute rascal: … I can fix her.

I made a reblog post that goes into Fleki’s drug addiction a lil for the topic of the ship just so it’s easily avoidable if it’s an uncomfortable topic to some, I don’t go into the details though, just on how it might affect their relationship

[midnightshard06]

STH Rarepair Week Day 1: First Kiss / First Encounter

You can check it out on ao3 here if you prefer.

Summary: Knuckles finally learns the odd truth behind Sonic's weird behaviors after all these years. He didn't expect it to be a whole other person, and neither of them expected they'd fall for each other. They've made it work though, even if it can be rough sometimes.

Pairing: Knuckles/Fleetway Super Sonic

Warnings: A tiiiiiny smidge of violence in one part? Not really much but warning just in case.

Word Count: ~2800 words

AN: Just so people who are familiar with my stuff are aware, this is unrelated to my Chaos Uncontrolled AU. It's actually related to a fic I never finished, got 8k words deep in it too, but I felt the urge to do something for it.

Knuckles had known Sonic for a long time. He’d been dragged into the hedgehog’s small circle of friends, consisting of just Tails at the time so he thought, pretty much immediately in the wake of everything that happened on Angel Island. Part of him thought that Sonic wouldn’t forgive him for being tricked by Eggman, but that hadn’t been the case. Once the Death Egg had been dealt with Sonic and Tails had come back to make sure he was ok, and also to ask if it would be ok if they visited every once in a while. It didn’t take long for him to say yes, not that he made it look like he was desperate for company or anything. Sonic and Tails were just… decent company is all. Plus he still felt bad for going against them.

As time passed the duo would visit him when they could, even drag him into adventures from time to time. Those adventures got more frequent the longer they knew each other. It was on those adventures that he started to realize there was something Sonic wasn’t telling him about.

It started off easy enough to ignore, especially when he was being distracted by whatever was going on. Though the more time he spent around Sonic the harder it was to ignore. The hedgehog would seemingly… talk to himself sometimes. Even odder was that when he did it with Tails nearby the fox didn’t seem to even care. Knuckles really wanted to ask what that was all about but any time he tried Sonic found some way to change the topic. Frankly it was getting frustrating.

It would be some time, and many failed attempts, before he managed to figure out what was going on. For all his attempted plans though, he would end up finding out completely by accident. Sonic and Tails were on Angel Island for the day, making sure Knuckles wasn't lonely even if he assured them he was fine. Sonic had gone off to run around for a bit and Tails had been tinkering with something nearby as Knuckles watched the Master Emerald. 

"I've been trying to work on some stuff that would help keep the Master Emerald safe while you were away." Tails paused in his work to glance over at Knuckles. "If you'd actually consider using it anyway…" The fox looked slightly nervous.

Knuckles hummed. It would be nice to have some more peace of mind when he couldn't watch it. "Would it be… easy to use?" He asked. Technology for the most part eluded him. Most of the time when Tails tried to explain something he was working on he couldn't keep up at all.

"Yeah!" Tails perked up. "I made it my top priority to make it easy to use. I've even had Sonic and Fleet test it out to make sure."

Knuckles blinked. "Fleet?" His brow furrowed in confusion. That wasn't a name he'd ever heard before.

Instead of possibly just explaining that it was some new friend they'd met, Tails froze. "Oh uh… I must have misspoke. Heh heh." He looked away and rubbed the back of his head.

Now this was odd behavior. Plus Tails was an awful liar. "What did you mean to say then?" Knuckles tilted his head. He'd give the fox the benefit of the doubt for now.

"I… uh…" Tails' eyes darted around. "Froggy..?" He winced.

Knuckles huffed. "Nice try. Wanna give me the truth?" He crossed his arms.

Tails' ears drooped. "I do…"

"But?" Knuckles pressed. This honestly didn't seem like too much of a deal to him. Why was Tails so hesitant to tell him?

"I'm not sure I should…" Tails sighed.

Before Knuckles could say anything else another voice cut it. "Don't worry about it kid. I can explain myself." There was suddenly a golden hedgehog there. One that looked remarkably like Sonic in his super form. As he walked over he ruffled the fur on Tails' head, an action that looked almost automatic. "Good to properly meet you Knux. I was wondering when this was gonna slip." Despite the hedgehog's casual demeanor Knuckles could tell he was nervous.

"... you're Fleet then?" Knuckles cautiously approached. It was hard to ignore the sheer amount of chaos energy he could feel coming off the hedgehog.

"The one and only." Fleet eyed him, shuffling his feet. "I assume you have questions."

"Several." Knuckles nodded. "First, who are you and why have I never seen you before?"

Fleet seemed to hesitate before sighing. "Well… if we're just gonna rip the bandaid off here. I'm a being made up of chaos energy who's been with Sonic his whole life. Like I came into existence when he was born. Something to do with the emeralds taking a shine to him." He waved a hand. "We're not too sure." He crossed his arms. "Reason you've never seen me before is cause typically only Sonic can, but I can 'pilot' for a bit I guess. That let's me interact with the world and be seen." He shrugged.

"So you're just… sentient chaos energy?" Knuckles didn't quite relax at the explanation, but at least Fleet seemed to be telling the truth. It would be a rather unbelievable lie if it was one. Plus it would explain the chaos energy he could feel.

"I guess?" Fleet hummed. "Kinda a simple way to put it though." He mumbled.

This had certainly not been what Knuckles had guessed was going on, but it did put some things into perspective for him. Especially Sonic seemingly talking to himself. He glanced at Tails. "How long have you known about him?" He gestured to Fleet.

Tails looked away. "Uuuuh since before we met you. I accidentally met him at the end of the first adventure me and Sonic had."

"I'd gotten all the emeralds." Fleet hoped in. "Turns out if I'm not careful that much chaos energy can cause me to go a bit… wild." He looked at the floor. "Didn't know that at the time though. Tails ended up seeing me before me and Sonic could figure it out." He cracked a small smile and looked over at Tails. "It worked out though." The fox smiled back. Knuckles opened his mouth to ask something else but Fleet rose a hand. "Sonic didn't want to say anything because people haven't exactly taken kindly to my existence in the past." He frowned deeply.

"If it makes you feel better." Tails jumped in. "Only me and Shadow know, and Shadow only knows because he could tell that Fleet was there. Sort of."

Knuckles hummed as he watched Fleet. It was clear the hedgehog was still nervous. “Alright. Fine.” He sighed and held out his hands. “At least I know now.”

Fleet blinked. Knuckles crossed his arms. “That’s it?” Fleet looked dumbfounded.

“Were you expecting something else?” Knuckles tilted his head.

“Well… I mean…” Fleet seemed to be struggling to get his words straight. “It was just a whole thing with Shadow and… I don’t know, it's almost always been a big deal…” Suddenly his head whipped to the right to glare at empty space. “Stop laughing! You’d be acting the same way in my position!” Based on his eyes narrowing further Knuckles was willing to bet the laughing had only gotten harder. Fleet turned back to Knuckles, his arms now crossed and ears flat against his head.

“Well so long as you don’t pose a threat to the Master Emerald I’m fine to trust you for now.” Knuckles nodded, and Fleet perked up a little bit.

“I see.” Fleet cleared his throat. “Well uh. Good I guess. Yeah…” He tapped his claws together nervously. “Good… talk.” With that he was gone and Sonic was there on the ground, still laughing.

Fleet collapsed wordlessly against Knuckles. The echidna didn’t even flinch. “What happened?” Knuckles eventually asked once Fleet had settled himself. Fleet didn’t really have the emotional energy to even try and describe the day he’d just had. All he knew is he wanted to calm down and hang out with his partner. Not that he even knew how he’d managed that. Ever since he’d revealed himself to Knuckles the two had gotten closer, and things had just… evolved from there. It helped that him and Sonic were able to be separate finally. That had been a pain while they’d tested different things. He’d had far too many close calls than he was comfortable with… both for himself and others.

Knuckles hummed and put an arm around Fleet. It was nice, not needing to articulate his feelings just yet, but still getting the comfort he’d been seeking out. The two stayed there for a while, Fleet wasn’t really trying to keep track of the time. Which was still odd to him. Before sitting still this long would have been torture, but now he was content to just stay at Knuckles’ side.

“Something with the emeralds?” Knuckles spoke up again, keeping his gaze aimed forward. 

With a sigh Fleet extracted himself from the comfortable position and balanced his head on his hands. “Yeah.” He pinned his ears down. It was still fresh and he didn’t really want to talk about it, but keeping it to himself might only make things worse. “Tails was messing with one, I wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing. Then out of nowhere… boom!” He waved a hand aggressively. “I couldn’t think straight. Made a mess of Tails’ lab and… and…” He sucked in a sharp breath. “And hurt people.”

There was a moment of silence and then a hand on his shoulder, he tried to shy away from the touch but it was firm. “I get why you came here then.” Knuckles didn’t look sympathetic, but Fleet much preferred that. He didn’t want to be pitied. “You know that if something goes wrong here, I could probably use the Master Emerald to help.”

“S’part of it I guess.” Fleet admitted. Of course that was a pretty natural conclusion to make. “I think just being around you helps too.” He added, much quieter. Knuckles just slowly pulled him closer, giving him plenty of time to pull away if he wanted. Fleet didn’t fight him. Hopefully some quiet time spent here would help clear his mind.

“Where is he!?” Knuckles shouted as he approached an injured looking Sonic.

The blue hedgehog grimaced as he pushed himself to his feet. “He’s up ahead. Shadow is keeping him busy for now.” He went to rub the back of his head but winced. “Not sure how long he’ll last though… Fleet was exposed to a lot of chaos energy…”

Knuckles grit his teeth. As much as he wanted to rush in there right now and help Fleet he needed more information. “What happened?”

“Was fighting Eggman, I used the emeralds. Fleet was there too but I thought it would be fine. He was trying to stay out of the fight.” There was clear regret on Sonic’s face. “Somehow he managed to pick up on it. He’s been extra sensitive to it lately.” He shook his head. “We have no idea why.”

Well that wasn’t a lot to work with, but Knuckles would have to make due. “I’ll see what I can do.” He grunted, just seeing the grateful look that Sonic gave him as he ran off. True to Sonic’s word Fleet was just ahead. The golden hedgehog had a hand gripped around Shadow’s throat and a crazed look in his eyes. Around them were the ruins of what must have been one of Eggman’s bases. Knuckles would be willing to bet destroying the structure had at least distracted Fleet long enough for him to get here. Thankfully he'd already been off of Angel Island when he’d been contacted. “Hey!” He shouted and one of Fleet’s ears swung towards him. “Put him down.” Knuckles growled.

Fleet turned to look at him. An excited smile crept across his face, one that was still disturbing. “Knuckles.” He sounded genuinely happy to see him, but yet he still held Shadow aloft. “So nice to see you here.” He closed his eyes briefly as he exposed his teeth with his smile.

It was definitely disturbing to see such pleasant expressions aimed at him while Fleet still gripped tightly at Shadow’s throat. Said black hedgehog was still struggling. “Put. Him. Down.” Knuckles narrowed his eyes, keeping his tone firm.

Fleet’s pleasant expression faded as he frowned, ears drooping. “Awe, but I was having fun. A few more minutes can’t hurt right?”

“Now, Fleet.” Knuckles took a step forward. He knew he didn’t stand much of a chance in a fight, but he also knew he was one of the people least likely to be attacked. Of course that list consisted of Sonic and Tails too, but he tried to ignore how injured Sonic had looked when he saw him.

The golden hedgehog pouted but did drop Shadow. The other hedgehog fell to the ground gasping for air. Knuckles cautiously approached as Fleet floated down to the ground. Fleet’s grin still looked feral, but at least he didn’t seem inclined to attack Knuckles. For now. Though of course Knuckles didn’t come unprepared. As much as it would be nice if his presence alone could calm Fleet down he knew that wouldn’t work. Tails had sounded rather frantic in his distress call after all.

Before Fleet could move away Knuckles threw his arms around him. Something in between a hug and a grapple. Thankfully Fleet went rigid as he no doubt tried to figure out what was going on. In those precious few moments Knuckles called upon the power of the Master Emerald to neutralize the excess chaos energy in Fleet’s body. He could feel when it started to work as the golden hedgehog collapsed more and more heavily against him. If there was another way Knuckles would much prefer to use it, Fleet always looked so tired and out of it after. Though he also knew that Fleet would much prefer that to hurting anyone else.

Finally Fleet slumped against Knuckles completely, his breathing evening out as he fell asleep. Knuckles mentally sighed in relief, though he did wish he was able to get here sooner. A glance over at where Shadow had been revealed the hedgehog had left at some point, probably to tend to whatever injuries he had. No doubt Sonic would check up on his rival later. Speaking of the blue hedgehog, Knuckles watched him carefully approach. He was limping slightly, but was doing his best to hide it. What he didn’t hide was the relief on his face when he spotted Fleet in Knuckles’ arms.

“I assume everything’s good now?” Sonic was still looking at Fleet, some sort of expression Knuckles couldn’t place on his face now.

“For now. You should go rest. I’ll take care of him.” Knuckles adjusted Fleet so he was holding him more comfortably.

Sonic opened his mouth to say something but closed it. Perhaps thinking better of whatever he was about to say. "I'll leave him to you." He shuffled his feet and winced. "Just let me know how he's doing once he wakes up ok?" Knuckles simply nodded before going off to collect the Master Emerald from where he'd left it.

Fleet woke with a start, but didn’t try to move. He was utterly exhausted, a feeling he knew well. Though he wished it wasn’t so familiar. Just as he suspected he spotted the Master Emerald after a moment of visually searching for it, so that also meant…”Good to see you up.” Knuckles was sitting down next to him, close but not touching. “How are you feeling?”

“About how you’d expect…” Fleet curled in on himself, not quite making a proper ball. “I feel like I could sleep for a whole year…”

“I’m sorry.” Knuckles, as he always did after something like this happened, sounded genuinely apologetic.

“I know.” Fleet reached his hand out blindly, Knuckles thankfully took it. “And I keep telling you it’s ok.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t feel bad about it.” Knuckles huffed. “Even with your permission.”

Fleet felt like he could continue this conversation, but nothing new would be said. They’d had this same back and forth so many times. Honestly Fleet hated to think about how common of a conversation this was becoming. He hated that it was brought on because of his inability to control himself around chaos energy. "Fine." Was all Fleet could manage. He was tired anyway. The two stayed in silence for a while. It was comfortable, like it usually was between them. "Thank you." Fleet's voice was soft even to his own ears.

Knuckles pulled Fleet closer. "I just wish I could stop it from happening."

"You do your best." Fleet squeezed his hand.

There was more silence and Fleet figured it would be safe to slip back into sleep now. What he wasn't expecting though was for Knuckles to press his muzzle to Fleet's head, careful to avoid pricking himself. Fleet's exhaustion riddled mind barely registered it as a kiss. A sort of tentative one, but one all the same. As he drifted off the sleep he couldn't help but realize that was the first time that had ever happened.

[rayyravens]

Deny Me (No More)

Deny Me (No More)

Paring/s: Columbina x Signora (I like to call this ship rosabina)

Summary/plot: Modern soulmate au, 18+, smut, Kindergarten teacher Columbina, single mom La Signora.

word count: 3,112

warnings: Smut (18+), umm kink wise there is orgasm denial and thigh riding (thay was what my friend requested specifically). Also degradation and praise

A/N: This was a request for a friend. I posted it on ao3 and thought maybe tumblr might like it? Literally just a couple thousand words of filth. This ship is a rarepair that i absolutely love- mw and said friend rp it on every genshin au server we're in together and have multiple other rps going for it.

“Hold on a little longer for me, love, just a little longer”. The voice that speaks now, is husky, arousal evident in even just her tone. It makes the shorter of the two swallow, heart beating fast.

The woman beneath her keens, throwing her head back against the pillows of the bed. She cannot see exactly where the taller of the two is, but she can feel her, a lifetime without her sight allowing her to intrinsically feel where the other is. It's also not difficult considering she can feel the others light touches, the heat radiating off of her, the way she occasionally presses against her.

Signora, for her part, keeps her touches light and fleeting, doing her best to keep Columbina on her toes, which proves to be effective, with the way the shorter woman twitches and gasps every time she does so. The noises are beautiful, and they are more beautiful than anything Signora has ever heard, even in her years as a singer.

Gods, this woman should not be so attractive. The way her eyes, even unseeing, flicker to where Rosalyne lays between her legs, the way her fingers grip the sheets beneath her. Perhaps it was innapropriate, but hell, if Rosalyne wanted to fuck her son's teacher, and the woman gave her consent, then she was damn well going to do it.

Besides, considering the fact Columbina wasn't Wolfgang's teacher anymore, it was fine, no? Eh, who gives a fuck? Not Signora, not Columbina. Although there was certainly a lot of different sort of a fuck being given.

Columbina, currently laying almost naked beneath Rosalyne. Rosalyne had a vibrator nestled up in the skimpy underwear still on Columbina's body. It wasn't unusual for Columbina to wear intricate, very pretty and very expensive lingerie. But tonight, Rosalyne had helped her pick something naughty. It was basically a g-string with a little more in the front.

Rosalyne had picked this so she could nestle a vibrator within the underwear without it slipping out. The vibrator was set to the lowest setting, meaning it left Columbina keening for more without being able to reach the edge. Signora had been teasing her for what felt like hours. Really it had only been maybe half an hour, or just a little longer. But it was absolute torture, feeling Rosalyne touching her, fingertips dragging across her skin slowly, not nearly hard enough to give her what she wants, but enough to send goosebumps across her skin and to make that spot between her legs slick with anticipation.

“Rosaaa”, Columbina whines, which, if she were still completely there, she would never have done, as it was utterly below her. But she wasn't her usual self, no, she was horny, aroused and pent up. And she needed Rosalyne to touch her! She needs more than the light vibrations of the toy or the teasing pinches to her nipples. She needed something harder, she needs more fiction.

“Patience, dear”, is the answer she receives, the voice husky, drawling the words out above her. Columbina, not exactly wanting to have to wait, wants to protest. But she knew what rosalyne was like in bed and if she thought Bina needed a punishment or needed to wait, then she'd make her wait. And she didn't want to risk that actually happening. So, she tries not to argue too much, even if she sometimes likes to.

Again, she was far too fucking horny to want to risk it. So, Columbina tries to suppress the pleas that are ever so close to escaping her lips, resorting to whines, whimpers and keens instead, allowing those and her body language to show just how desperate she is.

Rosalyne licks her lips at the sight of the shorter woman splayed beneath her. Oh, she had so, so many things she wanted to do to her. But, she has to try and think at least a little clearly. She has plans, she knows what she wants to do tonight, she cant let herself get distracted by the sight of her lover (girlfriend? Partner? Bah, Rosalyne doesn't even want to try to think too hard on labels).

She hums, and shuffles back to lay between Columbina's legs, gripping the others thighs for support. Bina, for her part, gasps at the contact, opening her legs a little more, both to give Rosa more room, and hoping it conveys her desperation. Rosa hums, and presses the vibrator more firmly against Bina's folds, making sure it has direct contact with her clit before she reaches for the remote, and turns it up nearly all the way.

“Ah- f-fuck!” Rosalyne smirks at the reaction from Columbina, watching her back arch, her head thrown back and mouth open as she tries to grind against the toy.

She giggles, and knows what she is planning is cruel, but she truly can't help it. Besides, it just means when Bina finally gets her release, it will be that much better.

Rosalyne licks and kisses the others thighs, the skin slick from excess arousal that hadn't managed to drip onto the sheets from when Columbina had been rubbing her thighs together. She leaves marks in only places she gets to see, making sure to kiss and lick them better. Each touch of lips, teeth and tongue just heightens the sensations in between her legs, and Bina coos and whines, trying to desperately rock her hips against the toy between her folds.

“Ah- Ah- Rosal- hahh, rosaaaaa”, Columbina's voice is high pitched, far more than her usual tone of voice, as well as a little scratchy from the many times she has screamed or moaned the others name already this evening.

“Yes, love?” Rosalyne's answer is almost lazy in response, humming as she leisurely strokes the vibrator nestled against the other's aching clit. She uses the remote still clasped in one hand to click the vibrator up a level, now currently on the highest setting, and the reaction from the other woman is almost instant.

Columbina gasps, hands gripping the sheets so hard Rosalyne is certain they will rip beneath her grip. Her heels are pressing into the mattress, and her back arches, chest pushed up as she tries desperately to get Rosalyne to touch her more, or to push that damned vibrator inside of her already!

Rosalyne smirks, and tugs the underwear off and down, discarding the skimpy garment somewhere on the floor to be cleaned up later. She sits up a little, her thumb moving to press and rub against Bina's swollen clit as she presses the vibrator against her entrance. With how wet Columbina has gotten in the past hour or so, the toy almost slides in immediately.

The vibrator itself is so fucking slippery from being pressed against the other's soaking cunt that Signora struggles to keep a damned hold on the thing. Which, in the back of her mind, she finds a little amusing. And she can't help but tease and taunt her partner about it.

“Oh my~ you're so wet, love. I can barely keep a hold on this toy with how much of a mess you've made of it”.

The words make Columbina flush, which, considering how flushed she was already, was an impressive feat. She keens and looks to the side, even though she can hardly see well enough to see Rosalyne. But she knows Signora has a smirk on her face.

Rosalyne tuts as she reaches up with a spare hand to take the woman's chin, making her look in her direction.

“Tsk, that won't do. I want to see your pretty face as I fuck you senseless”.

Gods, those words continue to make her wetter, if that's even possible. She's so wet that outside of it having made her thighs sticky, it's leaking out of her onto the sheets below. It's probably best she couldn't see how much of a mess she had made between her legs, because the sheets were a sticky mess. Given, not all of it was from her, but a lot of it was.

Rosalyne pushes the vibrator harder against her entrance, and it slips inside easily. Rosalyne keeps a grip on the end, wanting to be able to remove it before Columbina can come undone. The vibrations now inside of her, and the way Rosalyne is stroking her clit with hard, little strokes is about to tip her over the edge. Her body teases, and even Rosalyne can feel the way Bina's walls flutter around the toy.

“Rosa- oh gods above I'm going to-” She almost wails when Rosalyne pulls the toy out from her right as she's about to come, and removes her hand from her clit. “No, no, please, please let me come'', and similar little pleas slip from her mouth as tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

She rubs her legs together desperately, trying to rock against air to try and find some sort of touch. Rosalyne tuts, watching as Columbina pleads and begs for a release, for touch of any sort.

“Oh, my dear, how pathetic”, she coos, crawling so she is hovering over her partner. Bina whines, keening and almost choking in her efforts to try and convince her girlfriend to please, please continue.

“Please, please”, Bina tries to grasp at Rosalyne as she speaks, and Rosalyne briefly feels a little bad for denying her like that. But really, she just loved hearing Columbina beg, and watch her writhe beneath her.

“Do you want to cum?” Rosalyne's fingers trace along her jaw, a shudder making goosebumps erupt across her skin. Her heart was beating fast, although at this rate Columbina is certain the ache between her legs is beating harder.

“Yes!”

“Mmm, should I let you?” She drags a hand down her collarbone, scratching lightly with her nails, before the hand lands between her breasts. Bina's breath catches in her throat and she almost chokes. She doesn't want to say or do anything that would make Signora remove her hand.

Rosalyne hums, licking her lips as her fingers brush over one of her breasts, and finds her nipple, already hard due to arousal and the cool air on her skin. The touch draws a gasp that Bina tries to hide, although it simply makes Rosa chuckle. She pinches the sensitive tip, and then rubs her thumb over it, pinching it between two fingers.

The action makes Bina squirm- she had been on the edge, about to come when Rosalyne had denied her, so she was still rather sensitive. The touch was driving her crazy.

“So sensitive”, Rosalyne teases, humming as she does the same to the other, while also kneading her tits. She then leans down and flicks one with her tongue, drawing a sharp inhale from Columbina. Rosalyne giggles and pulls back, Columbina mewls when she can no longer feel Rosalyne's touch or her skin against her own.

“Just a moment, love. Can you sit up for me?” Columbina nods numbly, although she is shaky due to desperation and so the action is clumsy. Her hands remain against the bed to ground and guide her, and Rosalyne makes a noise of approval when she does as she's told.

“Can you turn around to face the headboard for me, please, love?”

“Rosa?” Columbina does as told, although her tone is questioning, curious as to what Rosalyne has in store for her. Her hands grip the headboard, and suddenly, she feels Signora's hands on her hips.

“Easy now, dear. Sit on my lap”. Those words make her shiver all over again, and with the closeness between them, Columbina can see a little better, and with her lover's help, guides herself onto her lap. She shudders, as does Rosalyne, when skin presses against skin.

Columbina feels around, tracing Rosalyne's faces. It makes Rosalyne smile, knowing exactly what her partner is doing. She kisses her, then, and shifts them both ever so slightly so that one of her thighs slides between Columbina's legs.

The pressure against her core sends a jolt through her body and pulls a rather long moan out of her lips. The pressure is so, so good, and while the friction was a little messy due to just how wet she is, it's still a relief.

“Okay?” Rosalyne checks in with her partner, wanting to make sure Bina is okay to continue. Not that she thinks Columbina would be anything but, as she doubts the woman would allow her to leave without getting to come at least once, but she just wants to make sure.

“Yes, yes, now please-!” Bina begs, trying to make Rosalyne get to it.

“Okay, okay”, Rosalyne response with a laugh. She grips Bina's hips again, and guides Bina to hold onto her shoulders.

“Now, you can ride my thigh like a good girl, yes?” Bina keens, nodding, and when Rosa squeezes her hips, letting her know she can start, Bina moans again almost immediately as she starts sliding against the other's thigh, pressing down hard, grinding as best she can with Rosalyne's help against the muscle.

She is smearing her arousal against Rosalyne's skin, making it a little difficult to get the friction she craves so, so badly. But Rosalyne, seeming to pick up on this, helps hold her down against her thigh a little harder, allowing Bina to get the friction she wants as she grinds against her.

The noises coming from her are absolutely erotic, that's really the only way Rosalyne can describe them. She whines and whimpers between the plentiful moans escaping her lips, the wet noises of their skin against skin is honestly making Rosa wetter, and when Bina manages to rub her clit against her thigh in just the right way, she groans, and arches her back a little and grinds down that little bit more desperately.

“That's my good girl, you're doing so well”

Those words, so different from the degrading way she'd been spoken to earlier, have just as much of an affect on her. If she were not currently desperate to get off, she might find it ridiculous she gets off on both praise and degradation. But as it is, she's far too out of her mind with the need to come to even think about her kinks.

“Rosa” occasionally escapes her lips in little pants and whispers as Rosalyne continues to praise her.

“You're doing so well”

“That's a good girl”

“You feel so good against me”

“You look so good, riding me like that”

Every single little phrase or word of praise sends her closer and closer to the edge. Rosalyne's nails were digging into her hips, her own arms around Rosalyne's neck and scratching desperately at her back. She doesn't notice Signora removing a hand from her hip until she feels fingers against her clit, making her hips stutter.

“Ohhhh!”

Rosa simply smiles, continuing to rub against the bundle of nerves as Columbina grinds against her thigh desperately.

“Please, please, I need it”. Rosalyne knows exactly what Columbina is begging for, and she briefly notes the desperate tears running down Columbina's cheeks when she glances at her face.

“Okay, love, you can come”.

The permission in itself is a relief, and Bina babbles out thanks as she moans, at this point grinding against Signora's fingers. Rosalyne smiles, and nuzzles Bina, pressing kisses along her neck and jaw. She grinds her own fingers against Columbina's clit, meeting her thrusts as best she can with Bina moving so erratically.

“Rosa- rosa- gonna- gonna come-!”

Rosalyne purrs at this, pressing herself further against the other, chest pressed against chest as she feels Bina's entrance flutter against her thigh, feeling the way her pussy clenches around bothing, pushing more of her arousal out and onto the thigh beneath.

She rubs at Bina's clit to help her ride out her orgasm, moans and gasps and keens escaping her, all rather loud as she arches against Rosalyne.

“That's it, my love, let yourself go, it's okay”. She murmurs soft reassurance and praise again throughout Columbina's orgasm, feeling the way the woman reaches her peak, cumming as she rides her thigh and grinds against her fingers.

Eventually, Rosalyne slows the movement of her fingers, and stops the movement of Bina's hips, letting them go, the hand previously on her hip coming to run through her hair. Columbina collapses completely against her, her weight falling completely into Rosalyne's lap. She is panting, eyes having fluttered shut during her orgasm.

Signora strokes her hair and traces gentle patterns against her skin as Bina recovers, making sure she does not feel rushed.

Eventually, Columbina has caught her breath and recovered enough to pull away just slightly, and looks up to meet Rosalyne's eyes. She smiles, and places a hand on her cheek, which Rosalyne nuzzles into.

“Good?”The question makes Columbina laugh, giving the other an expression that says ‘really? Did you just ask me that?’ Before she answers verbally.

“Hah- yes, yes. Very good”, she agrees, and looks down between their bodies. She can't see very well, but the obvious liquid covering both Signora's legs, her own legs and core, and the sheets below them is evidence enough of just how much she had enjoyed it.

“I'm glad. We certainly made a mess”. Rosalyne can feel how much sticky arousal and release coated not just her own skin, but Columbina's as well, and the sheets below them too, apparently.

“We did”, Bina replies with a giggle, wincing when she shifts on Signora's lap and feels the cooling mess on her own skin.

“Did you want me to repay the favour?” Rosalyne coos, and shakes her head, cupping Columbina's face in her hands. Her lover was always so considerate, even after just cumming so hard against her. It's one of the many things Rosalyne loved about her.

“Not right now, dear. Mayne after we've showered. But I think the both of us are rather tired”.

“Well, I'm not sure my legs work at the moment”, Columbina adds, because a warm shower sounds wonderful but right about now she is certain she couldn't stand if she tried, and if she did her legs would probably give out.

“I'll carry you. Hold on”. Rosalyne slides Columbina from her lap, laughing when she finally gets to see the extent of the mess they have made of one another. After standing and stretching, she helps Columbina to her feet before scooping her up bridal style, causing her lover to squeal and squeak as Rosalyne carries her to the bathroom so they can both clean up.

#fanfiction #genshin impact #ao3 #la signora genshin impact #columbina genshin impact #Signora (Rosalyne) #Columbina #La Signora x Columbina #smut #18+ content #modern au

[marauderundercover]

The Strings that Bind Us: Chapter One

AO3

Marinette Dupain Cheng was tired. She’d fought the same villain for fifteen years. She’d been a hero longer than she’d been just Marinette. It was exhausting. And she was ready for a break. Two years after unmasking Hawkmoth, Paris was finally healed enough for her to move on. To leave.

Which was why she was currently putting fairy lights and pumpkins on the balcony of her new apartment in Gotham. It was quiet, and lonely, but at least she didn’t have the weight of a city on her back anymore. She hums as she places the last pumpkin. Perfect. Glancing across the city, she lets out a sigh. Here she was, in an entirely new city, no connections and no one to talk to when she needed to just talk. But it was worth it, the memories of everything in Paris still too fresh. It still hurt too much. Deciding it’s not too early to go to sleep, she walks back inside. She’s just closed the door when a loud crash from outside has her tensing. She peeks behind the curtain, frowning at the figure on her balcony. She opens the door.

“Uh, hello.” She greets the strangely dressed man. If what she’d read had been correct, this was Batman. Gotham’s resident hero, or vigilante as the papers called him. He probably wasn’t here to fight her, but you can never be too careful.

“My apologies.” He says, his voice gruff. Her eyes narrow at the way he favors his left side.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” She asks suddenly, her face instantly heating up as the words tumble out without her permission.

“I’m not-” He starts, but she shakes her head.

“I insist. You are out trying to protect citizens, are you not? The least I can do is offer you a coffee.” She says, turning and walking back inside. She doesn’t turn to see if he follows, but she does hear footsteps behind her. She figures he could walk silently, if he really wanted to. After all, even though he’d been around for eight or so years, few had ever seen Batman. She hums, moving around the kitchen and starting up her small coffee pot and grabbing a few of the leftover pastries from earlier. Placing the pastries on a plate, she pulls down two cups before turning to the vigilante in her kitchen.

“How do you take your coffee?” She asks, and she swears his lips twitch slightly.

“Just black.” He says, and she grins.

“Thank goodness. One of my friends in Paris refuses to drink coffee unless it’s half cream and sugar.” She says, trying to keep the conversation light. After all, what do you say to a random vigilante? It was different when Chat Noir, or Adrien, visited her back in collège. He didn’t start doing that until after she’d helped with Evillustrator, which helped it to not be awkward. Like it currently was with her and Batman. God, why did she even invite him in? She turns and almost sighs in relief when she sees the coffee is done. Quickly filling up both cups, she passes one to Batman and then pushes the plate of pastries towards him.

“I own the cafe downstairs.” She says as an explanation when she sees his lips purse. He nods and grabs a croissant, taking a hesitant bite out of it.

“Thank you.” He says, and she just smiles. She may not want to be a hero again, but maybe it would be okay to be friends with a hero again.

---

The bell over the door notifying her of another customer makes Marinette stick her head out from the back.

“Hello! Welcome to La Petite Tasse, I’ll be with you in just a minute.” She calls, not catching the response before she’s back in the kitchen, pulling a fresh batch of croissants out of the oven. She slides the tray onto the cooling rack before tugging off the oven mitts and rushing out to the front.

“I am so sorry about that, most of my workers are also students so they have class right now. What can I get you?” She rambles, freezing when she looks up into the most attractive blue eyes she’s ever seen. The man just smiles at her, and she swears her knees go weak.

“That’s fine. Could I have... a large black coffee and a croissant?” The man asks, glancing up at the menu before looking back at her. She nods and smiles, cursing the way her cheeks heat up. Sure, this was quite literally the most attractive man she’d ever seen in person, but she was not going to fall for a pretty face. Nope. Totally not. She turns and grabs a cup, filling it up before rushing to the back to grab one of the fresh croissants. After all, they were better warm.

“That’ll be three dollars and twenty seven cents.” She says, passing the man his order. He grins and passes her a twenty.

“Keep the change.” He says with a grin before he turns and walks out. She blinks, slightly confused, but takes the change and puts it into the tip jar. That was weird, she thinks, but she doesn’t think too much into it. It’s not like she’d ever see him again.

---

She had been wrong, and she was completely okay with it. The man came in almost every day for two weeks before she worked up the courage to introduce herself and ask his name. He’d seemed shocked, but had introduced himself as Bruce. And after two weeks, she was happy to say that Gotham had started to feel a little lighter, that she was a little happier in this dark city. The bell above the door chimes, but she keeps working on filling the macarons since Mack was manning the counter.

“Listen kid, open the register and I won’t shoot your fucking brains out.” A voice says. Oh hell no. She drops the piping back and picks up her rolling pin. Peeking out, she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees it’s only one guy, not an entire group. She tosses her rolling pin lightly before catching it, familiarizing herself with it as a projectile before she actually uses it. She watches as Mack’s hands shake, obviously panicked. Letting out a steadying breath, Marinette aims and manages to hit the man in the head with the rolling pin. He drops instantly, the gun clattering to the floor. She rushes out and grabs a couple zip ties from under the counter, walking over and cuffing the man’s hands behind his back before dragging him towards the handrail and attaching him to it. She glares at the man before she remembers Mack and gasps. She rushes over, frantically checking over the girl to make sure she’s okay.

“Mama M, I’m fine. I promise.” She says, though her voice shakes. Marinette breathes a sigh of relief before crushing the girl in a hug.

“I am so sorry, Mack, so, so sorry.” She apologizes, holding the girl close. She can feel the girl shake slightly, her shirt getting wet as the girl cries. Marinette just coos softly, whispering reassuring words to her. She barely hears the bell signaling a customer ring.

“What the hell happened?” A familiar voice asks. She glances over at Bruce and grimaces.

“Attempted robbery. Would you mind calling the police?” She asks, nodding towards the landline. He blinks, standing frozen as he stares at the tied up man in the corner. “Bruce!” She calls, his attention snapping to her. She nods towards the phone again and he nods, walking over to make the call.

---

After the police take their statements, Marinette sends Mack home with the tips from the day, despite the girl’s protests.

“Sweetheart, you were just held at gunpoint. I’m not gonna let you stay here. Go home, eat some junk food and watch something funny. I’ll see you on Monday.” Marinette says, giving the girl another quick hug before watching her leave. She turns to Bruce, who had been kind enough to stay, and winces. “You’re not gonna get in trouble with your boss, are you?” She asks. He just grins.

“I was actually off today, don’t worry about me.” He says, his smile falling as he looks her over. “Are you okay?” He asks. She lets out a shaky breath before nodding.

“Yeah, yeah. I was more worried about Mack, honestly. I was in the back, but I couldn’t just stay there. Not knowing she was in danger.” She says, her arms wrapped around herself as she tries to stay calm. It was the first time she’d had an actual gun aimed at someone she cares about.

“You were quite the hero today.” He says softly, and she snorts, shaking her head.

“No, Bruce, I wasn’t. I did what anyone else would’ve done.” She says, waving him off dismissively.

“Only you would actually believe that there are still people good enough to act like that.” He says softly. She blushes and clears her throat.

“Well, did you want your regular?” She asks, moving to go back behind the counter. He frowns.

“Mari, you aren’t seriously going to open the cafe back up today, are you?” He asks and she frowns.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She asks.

“Because your store was just attacked!” He exclaims, and she snorts.

“If my parent’s bakery in Paris closed every time there was an attack, they would’ve gone out of business.” She says flippantly. He frowns, and she worries she’s said something wrong, when his face suddenly twists back up into a smile.

“Spend the day with me.” He says and she blinks in surprise.

“What?”

“I had set out to ask you on a date when I came in today, but the whole attempted robbery stopped me. I know you want to just get back to work, but what if you spent the day with me instead?” He offers. She stares at him, wide eyed, before a wide smile forms on her face.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She says. It’d be fine to have the cafe closed for a day.

Next

Event tag list: @maribat-october-rarepairs

Permanent tag list: @stainedglassm​ @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess

[lepusrufus]

Lil' Mia and Miranda thing since I dragged you guys down the rarepair hell with me~

---

Lab equipment was really not meant to blend well within a lived-in home. And it didn't. The plush carpet on top of wooden floors giving way to the smooth lab flooring that squeaked under boots not appropriate for the setting created an odd contrast. Not that that was uncharacteristic for Miranda, any of her workspaces falling perfectly under the description of an organized mess, with particular emphasis on mess.

With Rose sleeping peacefully in the room generously, suspiciously so, provided by Miranda, Mia decided to stretch her legs by walking around the manor, the baby monitor connected to her phone. The building was relatively big, albeit quite old, tucked in the woods somewhere between the Beneviento house and the factory, with a tunnel conveniently connecting it to the labs running under the town. It had close to no spatial organization, bedrooms and labs and storage rooms alternating by patterns known only by the so-called goddess, or most likely not even by her.

Mia did not trust the woman. Not with the memories of the prison cell and the kidnapping of her daughter for experiments still fresh in her mind. But, the tiredness of motherhood and the odd loneliness that came with being the only two inhabitants of the house that were capable of coherent speech as of now, had her longing for some company.

It was an easy task finding Miranda, the soft cries of Eva guiding her down a short hallway to a lab door left ajar. Inside, the woman was sat at a desk, a laptop with half written reports and notes in front of her, pushed out of the grasp of the fussing infant in her arms. Miranda was far too busy trying to calm her daughter down enough to fall asleep to notice Mia leaning on the doorframe, curiously observing the scene. Oddly human, in her failing attempt to get her child to stop crying, when at any given time she could get anyone to kneel before her and bend over backwards to her every whim. Yet a small infant was giving her so much trouble.

"Need a hand?" Mia offered with a small chuckle. Should she even offer her help?

"I am fine thank you." But a slightly louder wail from Eva came with perfect timing to disprove her words.

Miranda's shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly as her eyes closed slowly, the usual makeup replaced by dark circles, testimony to the long hours spent going through decades of research and reports while also caring for her newly reborn daughter. It was oddly bittersweet, to see a woman so dignified otherwise all but beg the small child to go to sleep so she could finish her work.

Work, Mia concluded, that was rather essential for the whole place, and also her home for now, to continue existing the way it was. With a sigh she walked up to the desk and gently stoked Eva's short brunette hair. "Here, let me hold her. At least until you finish typing whatever it is you're doing," she said waving a hand in the direction of the forgotten computer, who's screen had turned black by now.

There were a few long seconds of hesitation, but a weary glance at the mountain of files on the other side of the desk that she was yet to go through convinced Miranda to finally allow her daughter slip into Mia's arms. It took maybe five minutes of cooing and a one sided conversation made in silly voices to turn the cries into giggles, small hands trying to grasp at Mia's finger that was ticklishly caressing puffy cheeks. Exhausted from crying, Eva's eyes slowly fluttered shut and she was gingerly lowered into a crib set by the desk, one of the many scattered around the house.

Miranda watched the scene unfold with uncharacteristic softness slipping by the icy mask of her steely eyes. Even goddesses can be caught by surprise it seemed, and whether it was due to the apparent skills that Mia had with calming Eva down or at how she was willing to help despite their precarious position was up to debate.

"Shouldn't you be better at this," Mia asked, pulling one of the chairs closer to sit in. "I know it's been, what, two or three centuries or something but haven't you done this before?"

Her question was obviously poking fun for the most part, but Miranda couldn't help the tired sigh that crawled its way from the depths of her now useless lungs.

"No, actually. I haven't," she responded curtly as she grabbed one of the files and opened it in order to transcribe its contents in a digital file. "At least not on my own," she added upon remembering the numerous subjects she helped raise during her time working with The Connections.

"Oh? Did you have a sweet loving husband once upon a time? Do tell me more," Mia said leaning her chin on her palms as if she were a teenager at a sleepover talking about crushes, although the memory of Ethan clawing its way to the forefront of her thoughts made her grimace slightly, until she pushed it back down in the depths of her mind.

It was foolish perhaps, acting like that around a woman that could, and would with the right motivation, kill her in the blink of an eye. Truth be told though, Mia was bored out of her mind, so what better way to pass the time than push Miranda's buttons, especially when she seemed too tired to retaliate.

The so-called goddess grimaced, at least ten different reasons to find the thought outrageous flashing through her mind and, settling on the most obvious one, looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "I was a nun."

Mia leaned back in her chair, looking at the black head covering hanging from a hook behind the door, together with black robes. She had to wonder if they were the same ancient ones or if she replaced them every once in a while.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," she chuckled. "A nun turned goddess. How ironic don't you think."

"Worshipping was never quite up my alley. And neither were men," she replied flatly, turning the pages in front of her and typing the relevant information in the file she had open on the screen.

Mia's eyes widened slightly with an amused oh. "So was she raised by the convent then?"

Was this information really to be given out? Mirada did not like talking about her past, or personal information in general. Gods did not need backstories, they simply were.

She sighed. "No, no. Her parents died when she was four and with nobody else to look for her, she was brought to us." Miranda gave a small shrug, pausing to type up decades old results on lycans. "I was the newest there, so the nuns dumped her on me. I was so mad at first, but she's always been such a brilliant little girl, even back then. She would ask for a bedtime story and did not complain when I'd start reading from one of the medical books I stole from the merchant. There was just something about her that made her grow on me."

With the paragraph done, she pushed her chair back, quietly so as to not have its legs scratch against the linoleum floor, and walked to another, smaller desk pushed against a wall. From there, she walked back to the crib where the small infant was sleeping peacefully, a small doll in hand. Doll that Mia recognized immediately, as an identical one was by her own daughter's sleeping form, back in their room. It was a small replica of Angie, plush and soft to the touch, unlike its real life wooden counterpart, the white dress made of delicate silk. Both toys had been made by Donna herself as gifts.

"But as you can guess, she was well past a toddler when she was placed in my care," Miranda finished, leaving the doll just by her sleeping daughter's side.

"So you suck with babies," Mia concluded with a grin. She would have laughed, but had enough clarity of mind to be quiet.

Miranda simply gave her a tired glare before rolling her eyes. She went back to her desk and opened a new file to be transcribed, this one on the reservoir's structure.

"I can care for them," she started, an odd almost imperceptible strain in her voice. "It just gets trickier when it's my own daughter and not an act."

Mia nodded absent mindedly, eyes darting to Eva. To see a woman with such power and ruthlessness, who could level the whole town to the ground if she so pleased, show such raw genuine affection towards the child made some of the notions in her brain crumble to the ground. Miranda was still the same woman who, ironically enough, experimented on more children than she cared to count, but then again Mia was also a willing participant in said experiments so was she really that much better?

She definitely was, Mia concluded, choosing to ignore a small pang at her heart when she watched all the ice in those gray eyes melt into tenderness while looking at her daughter. Instead, she started toying with one of the many pens scattered on the desk.

"Since I'm staying here, I don't mind helping you out with her," Mia said quietly, keeping her eyes on the small giraffe doodle she was doing on a napkin.

It wasn't for Miranda's sake really. She simply wanted the best for Eva, the child completely innocent unlike the atrocities committed by her mother throughout the last few centuries. Besides, it would be nice for Rose to have a friend not unlike herself, given the yet to be understood power both girls possessed.

"There's no need-"

"Consider it a thank you for letting us stay here, without a sniper pointing at my daughter's head at all times," Mia finished, a slither of ire slipping into her tone on the last words, the memory of a rookie agent panicking and pointing his gun to Rose for the unforgivable crime of being a hungry crying child seared behind her eyelids.

Miranda sighed, an odd sense of relief washing over her. After centuries of trying to bring her back, you'd think the she would do anything to spend each and every second with Eva, not letting anyone else care for her in any capacity, but truth be told, the prospect of not facing motherhood completely alone, even if Mia was helping her solely out of some sense of obligation, did not sound half bad.

"As you wish," she finally said, going back to the half written paragraph her mind drifted away from minutes earlier.

[hitheryon]

what is ur inspiration

Okay, so!! Pretty much, even before all the Katsucrew and KariBaku was on my mind, I was obsessed with the idea of Katsuki like. having a whole separate life than we see in canon. I mean, it's not that hard to imagine, considering we've seen next to nothing about his personal, outside-of-UA life in canon. It would make sense to some people, since it's kind of accepted canon at this point that Katsuki's whole life revolves around Heroics, but I just never vibed with that thinking, y'know? I mean. Katsuki's a teenager, he's got to have some sort of outside life, right?

And when I started thinking about that, it kind of just combined with my personal HC about Katsuki being gay, and my mind immediately went Secret Boyfriend! Secret Boyfriend! Secret Boyfriend!

That thought alone was enough to get me pumped up, but before KariBaku I was a pretty staunch KiriBaku shipper, so all I thought of was perhaps making up an OC. But none of the ones I made seemed to fit the bill, and I kind of just ended up with this half-thought out concept that was just. going nowhere.

And then. And then. Oh my god, dear lord, I miraculously found what was, at the time, the one and only KariBaku fic out there in English, on AO3. Let me tell you, @pyrrhicwildfire was an absolute genius because that fic dragged me into rarepair hell and I have yet to leave. It was just something about the vibes of that fic, the banter, it stuck to my brain and refused to let go.

And because I was absolutely obsessed, after far too many rereads to count, I put my detective hat on and went searching. And I struck gold. I found this little corner of Japanese, and an even smaller corner of Korean, BNHAtwit and it was. It was phenomenal. I came across too many fantastic artworks, and in search for more, I learned the hashtags, learned the shipnames they used for KariBaku on the Asian side of Twitter, and I just kept finding more and more. And then when there wasn't more? I turned to Pixiv, overturned that for any scrap of content I could find, and then to Pinterest I went.

I really did become obsessed with this ship within a week. It was the greatest thing I'd ever found, and I was so fucking determined to share it!! And now we have a whole server, and amazing content that I look at every day of my life.

This whole thing was such an experience. And the fact that people actually love the 'verse I created out of a character once virtually unknown outside of those little corners Japanese and Korean anitwit, and a bunch of cobbled together OCs I thought up from low-res screenshots I took of the Aldera classroom, it's just. There's no words for how grateful I am to all the people who support this little monster of a concept I created, and the journey this ship took me on was just simply amazing.

I know I kinda deviated from your original ask, but yeah. In general my starting inspo was just the thought of Katsuki with a secret boyfriend, and then pyrrhicwildfire became my ultimate inspiration in writing this ship, and now all my friends in the KariBaku server are what keep me loving this ship <33

[cyanide-latte]

Which OC/plot point or trait about an OC of yours do you feel people keep misunderstanding?

Oh good, I love sharing lists

In no particular order:

Spotlight 'Big Bad' for a nextgen fic kidnaps a large chunk of said nextgen because he's being manipulated into thinking one of the parents of those kiddos, parents that are his friends and colleagues, is withholding info about his missing wife and he's holding the kids hostage to put the squeeze on the adults to get one of them to crack and tell him where his wife is. Tired of people completely disregarding the fact he doesn't harm the children beyond pulling a Pied Piper and keeping them hidden, or that he's doing it because he's trying to find his wife and intends to return the children safely once he has a lead. No, certainly no character depth or complexity there.

Perpetually tired of people constantly woobifying one of my most monstrous villains. I get that I gave him a backstory that has people going "he has had such a rough life" but he is not a poor baby. He delights in killing people and pulling the classic "cook them up and serve them to others to hide the evidence." He doesn't form genuine emotional connections or attachments, he treats everyone he "cares" about as his belongings. Please for the love of God, I've not done anything with that in years but please, I'm tired of everyone woobifying him. "He's just misunderstood"; his being attractive notwithstanding, yes, he is misunderstood. You're the ones misunderstanding him.

Everyone who has ever bitched or whined or complained about a recurring theme of recovering from sexual assault/abuse/rape in different things I write. Tired of that, and I should NOT have to drag out my own horrific trauma to justify why I write about those things. It isn't even in everything I write but jfc, tired of people latching onto that and complaining it disturbs them that so many of my characters have that in their backstory. Can't possibly be a means of me working through my own trauma, now can it.

Every comment I get on the fic Restoring You that talks about wanting to see the canon flagship from the source material make amends has clearly chosen to ignore the tags and warnings that they will break up and the less-than-subtle hints I've dropped regarding my rarepair hooking up. I would say I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm not. My sandbox now.

I'm also just really tired of feeling like my stuff doesn't really get analyzed or thought about in the ways that will allow people to catch more of the deeper meanings I implement, in the stories and characters I choose to implement them in, and instead more often it's only read at the surface level and the point gets missed. Ah well.

Also just perpetually annoyed with people announcing that my interest in writing ships with a darker lean/themes to them, especially if it's something I'm writing for myself (like my self-ship with Pinhead) makes them uncomfortable. Hey wow, what a coincidence that I'm writing it for myself! And not you! Fuck off! :D

I am so very sorry, this turned into a vent. And there's definitely more than what I've shared above, this is just what's coming to mind atm.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Conner Kent Week 2021, Day Two: Rarepair

Jason knew jokes about how pale Tim was, about how he was either a vampire or the perfect blue blood, about how he needed to get out and absorb some sun for God’s sake. They were met with glares, scathing retorts, smacks with a bo staff, and on one memorable occasion, a horrified Bruce as Tim barged into the house with visible sunburn all along his arms, shoulder and face. (Bruce hadn’t taken Tim’s accusation of But Jason told me to go get some sun! very well.)

Jason wasn’t joking now. Loosely covered in a hospital gown, Tim’s still body seemed to be more devoid of colour than any of the sheets, machines, and tubes surrounding him and attached to his body, keeping him alive in the most impersonal of ways. 

It was quiet, the sort of quiet that muffled any attempted noise with a soft hush, an invisible reprimand at showing signs of life in a place where there should be none. The beeping of the various machines didn’t register, the hum of the fluorescent lights was ignorable. Even the rhythmic tapping of Jason’s foot on the linoleum, a nervous habit he’d never been able to break, was utterly silent. 

It was quiet. At least until Conner Kent barged into the room, his heavy combat boots thudding on the ground and his breath coming out in pants, the terrified look on his face telling Jason that he thought he hadn’t gotten here fast enough.

“He’s fine,” Jason managed not to cough while speaking, the roughness of his throat a physical ache that was just now flaring up. “Full recovery, they said.”

“Good, good, that’s...” Conner dropped into the remaining hospital chair, right next to Jason. “That’s good.”

Silence blanketed them once again. Jason hadn’t ever been in a regular hospital room. He had supposedly spent a while as a patient in one when he’d risen from the dead and trembled around Gotham like a 21st century zombie, but he couldn’t remember any of it. He didn’t think Tim’s best friend had ever been in one either, given a good majority of Tim’s team was invulnerable or had advanced healing in some way. 

Jason was sure Bruce was itching to take Tim to the cave’s medbay, and honestly, Jason found himself on Bruce’s side in this. As much as he liked to distrust the entire Bat clan, he knew they’d give everything they had to make sure Tim was okay, while the hospital was only giving Tim their best care because of the “Wayne” tacked onto the end of his name. Jason had been about to demand Bruce bring him back to the cave no matter what, but Oracle butted in, telling him that Tim been shot as Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne in broad daylight. Bruce couldn’t take Tim home, not without raising some very complicated questions.

So that led them here. Jason being slammed full-force in the face with how much he’d let himself care about the tiny little toothpick, unable to make himself move for fear that Tim would slip away in the one moment he was gone. (Once he’d come back to life and seen how chummy Dick was with Bruce all of a sudden, he’d always expected Dick to drag him back kicking and screaming. He never thought Tim’s unobtrusive yet steady presence, doing his tech work in exchange for food, would lead to the word brother coming to his lips as easy as a breath.)

Next to him, Conner shuffled, and snapped Jason out of his thoughts. “I thought Nightwing would be here.” A statement, subtly posed as a question.

But, still one Jason had an answer to. “Deep cover. A mission he’d been planning for weeks. He doesn’t know.” And he would probably throw a fit about it too, when he came back. Even Jason had to wince a bit at the horrible sense of déjà vu Dick would end up feeling.

“So they sent you instead,” Conner said, and his tone was simple, but Jason found himself getting heated anyway.

“What, you thought the fill-in for Big Bird would be a little better?”

Jason was just burning for a fight, the helplessness he felt at being able to do nothing but sit in a low-quality plastic chair skating up his body and down his arms, forcing his fingers to curl in a fist. He expected the other boy to rise to the bait, having heard Tim’s complaints on how hot-headed Superboy was. 

But something about their current situation caused Conner to just turn and glare at him flatly instead. “You once put him a hospital bed, too. Don’t act like you care about him now when you would’ve celebrated this a couple years ago.” His tone was dismissive, and that dug under Jason’s skin much more than he expected. 

“Well then, it’s a good thing time travel’s reserved for the speedsters, huh? ‘Cause lucky for you, I’m not the same guy I was a couple years ago,” Jason replied scathingly. The next words were ripped from Jason’s throat, and he could almost see the blood splattered on them. “That’s my brother in the shitty hospital bed right there.”

“Yeah? And how long have you even cared about that ‘brother’ of yours?” There it was. Jason could see red trickling into Conner’s cheeks as he let Jason’s words get to him, and found himself oddly curious about that flush.

Still. Argument to win. “Long enough to know him,” Jason shot back. “Long enough to help piece him together after he almost broke. Where were you during that time? Fucking around with your friends or dead?”

“Trying to hold together the team that Tim helped build,” Conner shifted a bit to face Jason more directly head on. “All you’ve done is tear people apart. News flash: having a sort-of truce with Tim doesn’t automatically mean your family loves you again.”

That one hurt. Years of training to keep his emotions hidden was the only thing that kept him from flinching back visibly, but Jason still felt like he’d been slapped. Because the boy was right; just because Tim liked dropping by one of his safehouses every other week doesn’t mean the rest of the family was anywhere near comfortable with him, not after all the pain he’d caused them. And he couldn’t even fault Conner on it, because it wasn’t like he was wrong and it wasn’t like it wasn’t Jason’s own damn fault.

Still. He couldn’t just let that slide. “At least my family loved me to begin with. What do you have? Megalomaniac scientists who built you from an evil billionaire who thinks of you as an experiment at best and supposedly one of the best men on Earth who still thinks you’re not worth his time.”

Too late, Jason realized his insult came out a little too scathing. Conner’s eyes widened, and Jason saw him blink back pinpricks of tears...fuck. He didn’t know when mutual antagonizing had turned into a caustic competition, but he was pretty sure Tim wouldn’t be very happy with the two of them biting each other’s heads off. And Jason was the one that goaded Conner into this to begin with, to let some of his own helpless anger loose. Conner just wanted to make sure his friend was alright.

So, slightly reluctantly, Jason said, “Sorry. That was a bit too far.”

Conner shot him a grimace. “S’okay. You’re keyed up ‘cause of Tim. I get it. You’re still a jackass, though.” After saying his bit, the other boy turned away, taking up another vigil by Tim’s bedside.

...What the hell. It wasn’t like Jason had lied, anyway. If there was one person that had worse daddy issues than Jason did, it was this poor son of a bitch. Back when he was first catching glimpses of updates on what happened in the larger superhero world while he was letting green overtake his mind, he’d marveled a bit at Superboy, and the way the Justice League seemed to speak about it. How bad do you have to be to be Superman’s own son, (sorta), and still have him hold you at arms length. But after Tim’s stories, and after meeting him now, Jason was pretty sure Superman was in the wrong.

You really couldn’t trust anyone, could you?

“Nah. You’re right,” Jason said. “God knows none of the Bats want anything to do with me, so this stupid sort-of truce with this stupid brother’s all I got.”

Conner glanced over at him, surprised. Jason couldn’t blame him, he was a little taken aback at how easily the confession had spilled out of him too. They both knew how closed off people in their line of work were, but Conner seemed to take Jason’s words as an olive branch.

“You were right too. Found out the fun way that parents aren’t worth shit. So the team’s all I got, and Tim’s a big part of that.”

“The kid fucking hates you,” Jason said, putting some good-natured humor into his words to let Conner know he wasn’t entirely serious. “Loves you to death, but complains about you to me all the time.”

Conner snorted. “Look who’s talking. Every week at Titans Tower, it’s all ‘Jason won’t stop scaring off all my informants’ and ‘Jason spit on my copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.’”

“You can’t blame me for that last one, aight?” 

“No, I agree with you,” Conner said. “That movie was terrible. I don’t know why Tim likes it.”

“Because he’s a goddamn loser,” Jason said. He couldn’t say he was expecting Conner to know who he was, much less from stories Tim had told him. But it felt...good, in a way. Nice to be recognized by his media tastes instead of his bone-chilling reputation. Nice to know that the guy Tim wouldn’t shut up about to him knew who he was.

Silence fell in between them again, but it was comfortable, mutually acknowledged and let rest. Jason didn’t break it when Conner stood up, brushed a kiss to Tim’s hair, and left the hospital much quieter than he came. Jason didn’t break it when he made to leave either, squeezing Tim’s hand and mentally willing him to heal faster. Jason didn’t break it all the way home. 

The next day found Jason in a similar position. The positive side of being a mob boss: he didn’t have much in the way of a day job. He didn’t know why cramming himself into an uncomfortable position to stare, with a tight throat, at a kid in a medically induced coma was what he decided to do with his day.

Maybe because the kid had grown on him, latched onto his heart like a leech and didn’t let go until Jason could ruffle his hair and think of him as a little brother without physically throwing up. 

And maybe because he wanted to see Conner again. He didn’t know why, but their brief talk yesterday had loosened something inside his chest. He was used mulling over his regrets, used to Bruce condemning him and giving up on him as a lost cause, used to Dick trying to brush everything aside and form a bond with him again. He wasn’t used to someone staring his sins in the face, then shrugging and forgiving him. 

Forgiveness was much lighter and much less guilt-ridden than Jason expected, and he wanted more of it. From the way Conner had sunk into the same line of thinking as Jason, he wanted more of it too.

Conner didn’t disappoint him, but Jason wasn’t sure when he’d gotten his hopes up high enough to be disappointed in the first place. Calmer, now that he knew Tim was doing better, Conner leaned against the doorframe of hospital room, staring at their resident comatose with a little frown on his lips.

Jason took the time to study him. A black leather jacket stretched across his shoulders, a little more showy than the practical brown one draped across the back of the chair Jason was sitting on. He supposed it fitted in with Superboy’s theme, because anyone who wore that pinwheel-bright costume with the fucking thigh holster Jason saw pictures of online was more than a little showy. There wasn’t much proof of in his simple t-shirt and jeans, though, and Jason almost would’ve been disappointed if it weren’t for the earring hanging from his left earlobe and the tall black boots with glinting metal lace hooks that stretched up their length. Jason bet he owned the exact pair of fingerless gloves that were wrapped around Conner’s wrists right now.

In all of Tim’s vivid descriptions of the guy, Jason never realized how much he had in common with the guy, at least cosmetically.

“How’s he doing?” Conner asked, and jolted Jason out of his reverie. He didn’t make any indication he caught Jason looking, but Jason eyed him in slight embarrassment just in case.

Realizing that Conner was actually waiting for an answer, Jason cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit from his relaxed sprawl. “They say they’ll bring him out of it tomorrow, then a week here before he can go home. That is, if he doesn’t wake up on his own. The doctors say they’re astounded at how fast he’s recovering.”

Conner snorted, then stepped fully into the room. “Can you build up an immunity to injury? Or, like, have your body develop a mini healing factor or something? Just based on the kind of shit we’ve gone through over the years?”

Jason didn’t miss the way Conner put feather’s touch more emphasis on “we,” or the way his eyes flicked over to Jason. “At this point, I’m sure it’s the only way we’ve stayed alive so long.”

“No you didn’t,” Conner chuckled.

Jason’s head whipped up, staring at the other boy with disbelief threading through his mind. It had taken months for Dick to start making death jokes, and even then, he hesitated a bit, as if making sure Jason was okay with it. But after one meeting, Conner just steamrolled ahead, every bit as confident as he appeared to be. Jason found himself laughing too, with genuine amusement albeit a little punched out.

Crossing the room to seat himself in the remaining plastic chair, Conner sunk down with a sigh. “I just want him to wake up already.”

“Yeah, well. Who doesn’t?” Jason said, feeling unreasonably a little disappointed. Of course Conner wanted to talk about Tim, that was the whole reason he’d come to the hospital in the first place. He’d only known Jason for an hour, and a large part of that was spent trading insults back and forth. Of course he didn’t want to talk about how Jason was doing.

“So,” Conner said, turning away from the hospital bed. “How are you doing?”

Or maybe he did. Jason didn’t know what to call the little bubble of satisfaction that flew up his throat and popped in his mouth. “Not bad. Life as a mob boss is kinda boring, whaddya know. You?”

“Playing den mother for a bunch of hypercompetent yet cluelessly stupid baby superheroes is not how I imagined my life going.”

“Playing den mother?”

Conner wrinkled his nose, in a motion that was in no way cute, honestly kind of gross and flat. Jason found himself staring nonetheless. “Bart used to call me Team Mom back when we founded the team, and it caught on. Now, Cassie leads, but since even she says it, everyone fucking says it. They ask me for granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“And?”

Conner sighed. “I give them granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“There you go,” Jason  said, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

“I swear I’m not usually this lame,” Conner pleaded, and his half-smile was aimed straight towards Jason.

“No, no, I believe you. Tim’s told me stories,” Jason said. “Didn’t you once throw some guy into a police car so hard, the car dented and they had to call in a helicopter so the guy didn’t die on the way to the hospital?”

Conner flushed, and Jason found it just as entrancing as last time. “He tried to touch Cassie,” he explained. “And she can take care of herself more than well, I know. I just got a bit...overprotective.”

Jason just laughed. “Don’t worry. I thought it was badass.”

“Really?” Conner’s lips twisted into a sour smile. “Because the League thought it was proof of my, fuck, what was it? Violent, destructive tendencies mirrored on a smaller scale of the schemes of Lex Luthor. Something along those lines.”

Shaking his head with desideration, Jason scoffed. “Sounds about accurate. Besides, you don’t wanna know what the League thinks of me.”

“What?”

“Aside from, like, Joker and Two-Face and Mad Hatter and shit, Red Hood is one one of Batman’s most powerful and dangerous rogues, and must be stopped at all costs.”

Conner was laughing before Jason even finished talking. “I love that for you,” he said. “You’re just so powerful and dangerous. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Jason shoved him lightly, and felt Conner give way on purpose, ignoring how natural and easy the motion felt. “Whatever you say, Luthor Lite.”

“Well, guess I found my new superhero name,” Conner said, finger held up to his chin in mock-thought as if musing something extremely important.

“It’s perfect,” Jason said. “And here we have Conner Kent, ordinary punk-rock farmer. But he’s hiding a secret! When his ‘violent and destructive tendencies’ come out, he turns into...Luthor Lite!”

The two of them collapsed into muffled laughter, Jason stifling his noise by biting his lip and Conner putting his head in the crook of his arm to hide his red face. Pity, Jason liked that flush.

Straightening up with a sigh, Conner offered Jason a little grin. Crimson was still creeping along his cheekbones and the edge of his jaw, and Jason was suddenly struck by the urge to trace it.

“Kon,” Conner said.

“What?”

“Call me Kon,” Conner said. “Everyone does.”

“Kon, huh? With a K, right?” Jason asked, then nodded thoughtfully when Conner made a noise of affirmation. “Is it Kryptonian or something?”

A rueful expression stole it’s way onto Conner’s face, mischievous lips and daring eyes staring at Jason as if challenging him. “Yeah. Kon-el. Kryptonian for ‘abomination’. It’s what they thought of clones.”

A pause. Then, “Wow.” Jason bust out laughing for the second time. “That’s metal as fuck. Good for you, Kon.”

“Says the guy who took the name of the person who killed him, then twisted it into something so horrifying that now, no one else associates it with anything other than you.”

“Is that judgement I hear?”

“Respect,” Kon said, and his smile was oddly shy, the first time he’d shown that emotion since he’d met Jason. Jason liked the way it looked on him; it suited him oddly well.

They were quiet for a minute, grinning at each other like buffoons, but Jason couldn’t find the heart to stop. Eventually, Kon stood up and rolled out his shoulders to stretch. “I gotta get going. I’m meeting Bart and Cassie, updating them about Tim.”

“They’re waking Tim up in the afternoon,” Jason said. “Bruce is gonna be here, plus Steph. So I’d stay clear.”

“Gotcha, thanks. I’ll come in the morning.”

A proposition, if Jason ever saw one, and there was no way he could have refused. “I’ll be here,” he said, and kept his eyes on Kon until he rounded a corner, away from sight.

Kon was already there when Jason came to visit Tim the next day, and he gave him a friendly, if a tad flirtatious, smile. Jason responded, accidentally putting too much emotion into the greeting than he would have liked, but it made Kon brighten, so Jason didn’t feel too bad. 

Dropping heavily into what had become “his” chair, Jason shrugged off his jacket. He gave himself a mental high-five when he noticed Kon staring at his shoulders, but made no motion to address it.

“If all goes to plan, he’ll be the same annoying little prep boy that’s always annoying the hell out of me by tonight,” Jason said.

“He’ll be fine,” Kon said, and his voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of confidence curling around his words. He sounded like he had utter faith in Tim. Jason wished some of that would bleed over.

“He’s a tough little shit,” Jason said, then repeated Kon’s words. “He’ll be fine.”

“How ‘bout you?”

“Hm?” Jason raised an inquiring brow. “Oh, I’m all good It’s not me that’s hurt.”

“Jason,” Kon snorted. “If I have learned anything over the past two days, it is the fact that you are most definitely not ‘all good.’”

“Yeah well,” Jason said. “You’re one to talk.”

Kon made a noncommittal noise, and shrugged as if to say what can you do? “We’ve all got issues. But I get the feeling that you’re not as closed off and angry as you let people believe. Or maybe you are, but you don’t want to.”

Jason bit back the first response that came into his mind, telling Kon that no, he was closed off and angry, just not with him. But that wasn’t the truth, and he definitely didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. So instead, he said, “Maybe. Not gonna lie, from the way Tim and everyone talks about you, I was expecting more...”

“Cocky little frat boy?” Kon asked, smirking.

“More or less.”

Kon sighed, then looked down to where his hands were fiddling with each other. “Superman doesn’t act like a cocky little frat boy. Neither does Lex Luthor.”

“You’re not either of them,” Jason said, realization pouring into his mind like spilled oil. “You’re not either of them, but no one else seems to get that, so you make it as obvious as possible.”

“A couple people got that eventually,” Conner said, looking up at Tim with a soft smile. “Not many, though. And none as quickly as you.”

Kon leaned back, level with Jason now, turned to face him, something on his face that Jason couldn’t read. The chairs seemed much closer than Jason could remember, but he wasn’t very much banking on his memory right now. 

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, feeling a little lame. “What can I say. Misery likes company, and companies read each other through water.”

“Never heard that one before.”

“I came up with it,” Jason said. 

“I like it,” Kon smiled, then leaned forward with an ease Jason had been determined to build up first.

A little peeved at Kon beating him to it, Jason closed the distance first, the kiss probably a little too rough. But given the way they’d met, Jason felt like the bite he gave Kon was justified, even if the other boy was invulnerable.

Jason had made plenty of bad decisions in his life, and he knew exactly what they felt like. This wasn’t one of them. There was no chance that the way Kon’s hands coming up to cup Jason’s face, dragging his nail down Jason’s jaw, was anything other than good. No chance the way Kon’s soft hair suddenly threaded through his fingers was anything other than soft, no chance the soft noise Kon made in the back of his throat was anything other than delightful.

Yeah, Jason knew bad decisions. And despite the avalanche of bad decisions that seemed to make up every inch of Jason, from his scarred hands to his chipped nails, despite the pile-up of thoughtless ideas that led to this boy being made, despite how intimately familiar Jason was with regrets, he was certain Conner Kent wasn’t one of them.

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

this was almost 4k what the fuck

also. please imagine tim waking up to see his best friend and older brother aggressively making out in the plastic hospital chairs next to him. 

anway, suddenly i have a new ship.

imma post this on ao3 later, it got a bit long

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump

[freddieslater]

Twelve Days of Rarepairs: Scydia/McMartin | Scott McCall x Lydia Martin (Teen Wolf)

Requested by @wonderdoves & anonymous

"This place is…"

Scott can't even think of a word. He just gazes ahead of them in wonder and awe. For miles, all he can see is snow. A thick white blanket of it covering the entire path ahead, the roads, the cobblestoned buildings, the trees—god, even the trees feel like something out of a fairytale, with long, twisting branches that have a dusting of snow themselves. And it's still going, trying to make them part of the scenery, too.

"You'd think you'd never seen snow before," Lydia teases. 

"I haven't—not like this! California's snow is nothing compared to this." 

Lydia just smiles, a certain fondness in her eyes. She squints up at the sky, her nose wrinkling slightly, their suitcases dragging along through the snow behind them as they continue their way from the ferry port. Something else that Scott is admittedly still in amazement over; he'd never actually been on a ferry before. 

It's just a good thing that the snow stopped long enough for them to actually reach Ireland, or else they'd have still been holed up in their cabin, stuck somewhere in the middle of the sea. Not the worst scenario he can think of, to be fair. But he's glad, nonetheless, because this is so much better. 

"I don't know," Lydia says. "I think I prefer the warm winters. I'm just hoping that Gran and Nana make their hot chocolate like they used to when I was younger, I'm telling you, it's the best thing ever."

Scott smiles, finally looking at Lydia as they come to a stop outside a two-storey, cobbled house with a gate around the garden. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, her nose a pale pink. Snowflakes have clung to her green hat, along the shoulders of her matching green coat, and to her eyelashes. There's a gleam of pure excitement and joy beneath them as she stares at the house. 

When she takes a deep breath, it returns like a puff of smoke. Scott gently squeezes her hand and holds it up in his own, bringing her gloved knuckles to his lips.

"You look nervous," he tells her softly. 

"A little," Lydia says, nodding. "Only because I haven't been here since I was… nine? And there's so much to tell them. I mean, I know my mom filled them in on pretty much everything, but still."

Scott nods as well, saying, "I know. It's a lot. But it'll be okay."

"Yeah, of course," Lydia agrees. Her smile seems a little more confident as she gives another nod.

They walk through the gate, into the garden that Scott's now seeing is teeming with things; empty plant pots, kids toys, an overturned bicycle. Even the stones of the house are more interesting than he had initially realized, with bright murals painted across the whole front of the house. 

As soon as they enter the house, the door closing behind them, they're hit with unexplainable warmth. And the shouting and giggling of kids that whiz past them, nearly knocking them off their feet. 

"I forgot how loud it gets here," Lydia says, but she's laughing. Scott can see it in her eyes as she looks around the entrance hall, beautifully decorated with lengths of tinsel, and handcrafted baubles hanging from the ceiling. 

Framed pictures line the walls up the stairs as far as he can. The closest one, hanging by the bottom of the stairs, has a familiar little girl, giving her biggest smile to the camera beside a young woman with a striking resemblance. 

"Is this you?" Scott asks, his smile wide. 

Lydia looks at the photo. "Oh god, yeah. I think that was when I was, like… six? I came up here every Christmas and New Year before my parents divorced. That's my gran."

"You look like her," Scott tells her, and he can hear the joyful skip of heart, hear it in her proud little hum of agreement. 

"Well, maybe without some of the grey hair," a voice says from behind them. 

They both turn around, and Lydia's face lights up. She's already squealing and dropping her suitcase and Scott's hand. 

"Gran!" Lydia practically flies at her, hugging her tightly. 

Her gran laughs, caught by surprise but only for a second, wrapping her up in her arms. "I've missed you too, Ariel!" 

"Haven't heard that name in a while," someone else says, with a distinctively more Irish accent, but still holding the same fond, overjoyed tone.

Scott looks at the woman who appears at their side from the room behind Lydia and her gran. He recognizes her instantly from all the photos. 

Maddy places a hand on Lorraine's shoulder as she and Lydia pull apart. Lydia looks on the verge of tears as she buries herself into Maddy's open embrace as well for a second, both laughing now. 

"And you…" Lorraine looks over Scott with a smile and a gleam in her eyes. A certain kind of knowing. "... You're Scott McCall."

Scott returns her smile and nods. "I am. I've heard a lot about you, Mrs. Martin."

"Yeah, I know a thing or two about you as well," Lorraine tells him, and he knows. 

He knows she isn't just talking about him and Lydia being together, but about everything. The deadpool. She knew who he was and what he was going to be before he even hit ten. 

For a moment, his worries from the ferry come back. Not all supernatural creatures are a fan of each other, and with the destruction that werewolves have a history of causing, banshees can't be that fond of them. And especially with everything that's happened to Lydia. 

But then her smile grows and she says, "I'm glad to finally meet you! And, please, call me Lorraine. This is my wife, Maddy."

"So, this is the little wolf that got your heart, huh?" Maddy jokes to Lydia, an arm around her shoulders. 

Lydia looks at Scott. She bites her bottom lip through her smile, and her eyes are saying everything. 

She nods and softly says, "Yeah. He is."

"Then you're more than welcome here," Lorraine says.

Relief starts to lift the weight off of Scott's shoulders and chest. The warm, welcoming atmosphere is hard to resist, and he's already feeling at home. 

-

Lydia was right. The hot chocolate is one of the best things he's ever had. Creamy and overflowing with marshmallows with a candy cane to stir it around. Not to mention the plate of cookies. He has never had a gingerbread man that tastes this good.

It's already dark outside, the sun having set an hour or two after they arrived. They already changed into warmer, more comfortable clothes, and settled in front of the fireplace in the living room to get rid of the chill from the snow. Lorraine and Maddy insisted. Didn't want them getting sick, and ignoring their protests about not being able to actually get sick.

"Your cousins don't look like they're having a good time," Scott comments quietly, watching the half-asleep couple sitting in the corner. 

"They have five kids, all under the age of ten," Lydia replies. "I think the only thing they can feel right now is exhausted."

Scott snorts. He looks around the room. He's met nearly everyone on this side of the family by now. Every cousin, second cousin, aunts, uncles. The kids that Lorraine and Maddy took in have been especially eager to meet him. 

His attention is drawn back to the little boy sitting cross-legged in front of him. He's only nine.

Scott wasn't expecting it when Lorraine and Maddy told him that around ten years ago, another banshee had found them. She was only nineteen and had no one and no idea what was going on with her. They took her in, Lorraine helped her. And from then, it's like their home was its own supernatural beacon, but for kids who had nowhere else to go. 

Sean, the little boy currently sneaking another gingerbread man from the plate, is a werewolf. His family, his pack, were hunted down when he was four. Lorraine felt it coming. She and Maddy found Sean. 

There's a little yelp and Sean clutches his hand. Scott catches a glimpse of tiny claws where nails should be. 

"Can I…?" he asks, holding out a hand. 

Sean hesitates, but he glances at Lydia, who smiles and nods encouragingly, then back at Scott. He slowly gives him his hand, palm up. 

"I don't know how to control it…" Sean mutters, looking down sheepishly. 

Scott inspects where the small trickle of blood is coming from. Three little lines where his claws accidentally caught his skin in passing. 

Shaking his head, Scott speaks gently, and draws on the pain in Sean's hand. "It's okay. You're still learning."

"Yeah, it's actually harder for born wolves," Lydia chimes in, nodding convincingly when Sean lifts his eyes to her with curiosity. "You'd think it was the other way around, but one of our friends—he was born a werewolf."

"And he didn't learn until he was sixteen," Scott tells him. "It just takes time."

"And knowing what keeps you grounded," Lydia adds. "Your anchor."

Sean looks at Scott. "Do you have an anchor?"

Scott nods. "I do. I had to learn to let me be my own anchor, but when that doesn't work for me, I focus on all the people I love. My mom, my best friend, my pack." 

He glances at Lydia only to find her already gazing at him with the softest smile, her cheek leaning against her shoulder. She places a kiss to his shoulder, her hand resting on her arm for a second.

"You just need to find something that makes you feel more in control," Scott finishes, turning back to Sean. "Even if it's an emotion."

Sean nods slowly. His expression is one of deep thought, trying to work to figure out what his own anchor could be. 

"Now, you should go clean this up," Scott says. "Just run it under warm water with some soap, okay? It might sting a little, but just ask Lorraine or Maddy if they have any antibiotic cream, and then put a bandage on it."

"Are you a doctor?" Sean asks.

"No," Scott can't help but grin as he says, "I'm just a vet."

That answer only seems to confuse Sean. But he gets up and hurries off to go do what Scott instructed. 

When Scott turns back, Lydia's still watching him. She has this look on her face, a thoughtful glaze in her eyes and a certain kind of smile that he can't read. 

Chuckling, Scott asks, "What is it?"

She lets a beat pass. She shakes her head, takes a slow breath in, then looks over at the window instead.

"It's still snowing. Do you wanna sit in the garden? There's a nice bench out back."

Scott's eyebrows furrow a little, but he stands with her, following her to the back door from the kitchen. Stepping outside is like what he'd imagine stepping into a walk-in freezer would feel like. 

But the cold biting at his skin is unimportant. The awe hits him all over again as he takes in the sight of the garden, feeling like he just stepped into a fairytale instead. Everywhere he looks, everything is white and sparkling. From the entire ground, to the gazebo at the end of the garden. 

Somehow, in amidst it all, there are flowers. Whole roses and everything, snow dusting across their dark red petals. 

"This is…" Scott breathes out, his eyes wide, "... I don't even know what this is. This place doesn't feel real."

Lydia laughs gently. She wraps her arms around her and nods, looking around as the snow falls around them. 

"Yeah, it does feel kind of… magical."

"We could actually make a snowman," Scott continues. "Or have a real snowball fight. Are snow angels things that people actually do?"

Lydia's eyebrows are raised when he looks back at her, and she's shaking her head. But she's got a smile that stretches to the corners of her eyes and he can feel emotions radiating off of her.

"You are so dorky." She moves closer, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. "And I love you."

Scott smiles. His voice is soft and giving away all of the fondness he feels for her when he says, "And I love you."

She leans in, her head tilting. Her lips are soft against his. He pulls her a little closer, his arms wrapping around her waist. The cold and even the snow is easier to ignore.

Lydia pulls back, her hands lingering on his shoulders. Scott doesn't let go at all. 

"I'm really glad you're here with me," Lydia tells him. "And my whole family now loves you, so that's a nice bonus. I think you even made a friend."

Scott grins, shrugging. "Your family is great, and I am… beyond relieved that they like me. And, I think with Sean, it's a werewolf thing."

"Oh, no." Lydia shakes her head firmly. "Maybe that's a small part of it, the whole Alpha thing and all, but all of the kids in there love you."

They pull apart. Lydia sits down on the bench. Scott follows, and can't help but start piling the snow from the arm of the bench into a ball in his hand. 

"You were amazing with Sean," Lydia comments, glancing at him. She's doing the same thing with the snow on her side. 

Scott shrugs again. "I just told him the same as I told Liam. And Alec. It's how I wish I could have been introduced to all of this. With someone reassuring me that it would be okay."

Lydia nods in a shared understanding. Neither of their starts in the supernatural word were exactly pleasant or comforting. Scott's only sorry that Lydia was brought into it the way she was. 

She rests a hand on top of his, curling her fingers beneath his palm. She squeezes gently. 

He knows that she can tell what he's thinking. Sometimes he worries that banshees have the ability to read minds as well. But the look she gives him and her hand there with his draws his thoughts away from the past. Everything is okay. It's better than okay. 

"It's amazing what your gran and nana have done, though," Scott says. "Taking in supernatural kids who have nowhere else to go."

"Yeah, it's like a little foster home, but… for werewolves, banshees, and everything else," Lydia jokes, but her smile is sincere. "It's a really good thing they're doing. The kids are so happy here."

"I can see why," Scott says, gazing back out across the garden. The snow has the sky practically glowing, in no way looking like it's dark enough to be night. 

There's a slight pressure against his hand from Lydia's fingers, moving slowly. 

"Do you… do you think that's something you'd ever want to do?" Lydia asks, careful with her words.

Scott looks back at her. She's watching him again, with curious eyes. His heart drops many beats.

"Wait, are you—?" he starts to ask, but Lydia's eyes widen and she quickly shakes her head.

"No!" she hastens to answer. "No, I'm not! I just meant… you know, in general, is it—is it something that you can see for the future? Not necessarily the foster home part, but… you know."

She chews her bottom lip. Scott takes it in, letting the question process. After a moment, a smile curves the corners of his mouth up.

"Imagine, the first werewolf-banshee hybrid," he says.

"That can't have been done before," Lydia agrees, a laugh to her voice. "I wonder if one side would skip them, or if we'd be creating a whole new species."

Scott actually does laugh now, and Lydia joins him. His stomach is buzzing with butterflies or bees, he can't tell. 

When they both go quiet, Scott slowly nods. He lifts his eyes to meet Lydia's.

"I like the sound of that," he says softly. "Whether it be a werewolf-banshee hybrid, or even an orphaned werewolf with nobody else… yeah. It's something I see for the future."

Lydia takes in a deep breath. She presses her lips together as her smile threatens to take over her entire face. She just nods, and breathes out slowly.

"Good to know," she says. "I do too, for the record."

"Okay, that's great," Scott says, grinning from ear to ear. 

Lydia hums in agreement. Then the ball of snow that she'd been forming hits him square in the chest. 

It's safe to say that it is freezing. The snow instantly seeps through his Christmas jumper, melting into his skin. He gasps while Lydia laughs behind her hands, hee eyes wide.

"You said you wanted a snowball fight…" she reminds him. 

Scott nods. "You're absolutely right. I did."

The ball of snow in his own hand hits Lydia. She gasps, snow sticking to her jumper as well now. 

"Oh my god, so cold!" she exclaims. "Why is that so cold?!" 

"Because it's real snow," Scott says, his excitement quickly returning. 

Lydia looks at him, her eyes narrowing. A familiar, competitive smirk forms on both their faces. 

"Game on," she says. 

Next second, they're trying to dodge out of the other's way, snowballs flying across the garden. There are gasps and shouts and laughter when they successfully land a shot. 

Maybe it's a little unfair that Scott taps into his heightened abilities to move faster. But the advantage doesn't stop Lydia from managing to sneak up on him and tackle him into the snow. It's so deep that they sink a few inches into it, laughing until their sides and faces ache, and neither of them actually win, both claiming they did. But they end up just lying there in the freezing snow, curled into each other, staring up at the night sky. 

[bookworm-blogs]

Surprise Ask!: Some Kayama and Shirakumo headcannons?

I’M SORRY FOR NOT RESPONDING SOONER I’VE BEEN BUSY W/ WORK N SHIT FHFHFHH

But omg yes! HELL yess I do!!

Since you didn't specify whether their relationship would be platonic or romantic, I'll just do both because BY GOD THEIR FRIENDSHIP ITSELF IS HEAVILY OVERLOOKED. (I'm still salty about Kayama's lack of presence in the main magna regarding the Kurogiri reveal. She's just as much a friend to Shirakumo as Aizawa and Yamada, damn it! Then again Horikoshi could be holding off on us for a reason idk we'll just have to wait and see...)

Anyways! Platonic (ft. Rooftop Gang) headcannons!

1. Kayama and Shirakumo have a similar taste in music. I know our world and the BNHA world are different (apparently they haven't reached the moon yet in BNHA?? And Aizawa had a touch screen phone in Vigilantes so I'm assuming their generation and our millennials grew up a tad bit differently), but I can't help but think they would be complete nerds of 80's rock. Smashing Pumpkins, Fleetwood Mac, Red Hot Chili Peppers... These two would always contact each other on when the next album hits and be each other's first choice to concerts and would always blow all their money on band merch. Their all-time favorite song would probably be "Go Your Own Way" by Fleetwood Mac, or "September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire. They always argue about which is better.

2. These two are the BIGGEST video game nerds. Every now and then, when they aren’t busy with school or work studies, Kayama would come over to Shirakumo’s house to play games with him. Aizawa isn’t too fond of video games, and Yamada prefers to listen to different types of podcasts, so that leaves Kayama to be Shirakumo’s gamer buddy, which isn’t bad at all since this girl loves all types of games. From Animal Crossing to the Halo franchise, Kayama has a surprisingly broad range, with her favorite genre of video games being horror shooter games like Resident Evil. Shirakumo isn’t a big fan of horror and is more a fan of free world games like Red Dead Redemption or The Last of Us, though he does make an exception for point and click horror games.

3. Kayama occasionally pops in on the boys’ study sessions. Usually, Yamada would be at the helm tutoring Shirakumo and Aizawa, though Kayama would pop in from time to time to help him with harder subjects like history since she’s smart. She used to host their sessions at her house, though that quickly stopped since she always dressed up as a sexy teacher and got a little too close to the boys while showing them how to solve equations. 

4. They would regularly barge in each others’ homes. Shirakumo was especially guilty of this, as he would use his clouds to fly over to his friends’ room windows and sneak in through through them. It became such a common occurrence that Aizawa, Yamada, and Kayama all decided to just keep their windows open for the cloud boy to come in whenever. Usually Aizawa would be Shirakumo’s favorite victim (he loved watching Aizawa leap out of his skin every time he knocked on the window), though Yamada and Kayama were just as entertaining (Shirakumo once knocked on Yamada’s window and nearly went deaf after the blond screamed with his quirk on. Kayama was a bit more risky for obvious reasons). Kayama was the first one to return the favor, however, and when Shirakumo saw her sitting on his bed in the dark while petting Sushi like an evil mastermind, he let out a high pitched scream that Kayama still holds over his head to this day. 

5. Kayama and Shirakumo "flirt" with each other all the time. You know Ayame and Shigure from Fruits Baskets? How they would say something incredibly corny to each other before suddenly being like, "haha cheers mate." That's these two. Since they hang out on a regular basis, people always make fun of them by calling them boyfriend/girlfriend. One day, they got so fed up with having to explain themselves that they decided, "fuck it, if they want a show we'll give them a show." When they made their first target pass out from a furious blush and a bloody nose, Shirakumo and Kayama made this their "how to keep hoes at bay" strategy. Yamada finds their antics hilarious, while Aizawa always thought it was weird. Every time they "flirt," Shirakumo and Kayama always make sure to say "no hetero" as soon as the other person is gone.

Now for the romantic headcannons!

1. Everything is the same, except Shirakumo forgot to say "no hetero." This made Shirakumo have an existential crisis for about a month. He would always ask himself, "Why didn't I say it that time? Was I being stupid? Or did I actually mean it? What if this changes our friendship forever? Oh God, what if she hates me?" Aizawa would always be the first person Shirakumo goes to to vent his woes, sometimes even coming to his room in the middle of the night. While Shirakumo would ramble about how bad it is to catch feelings for his gal pal, Aizawa would always listen until he's done before telling him to just confess. Shirakumo doesn't, and this routine lasts an entire month.

2. Kayama realizes Shirakumo's growing crush but doesn't say anything bc she wants to hear it from him. This man tries acting like nothing's bothering him, but he was as obvious as Dipper from Gravity Falls (muttering under his breath and hopping at the first opportunity to hang out with her). At first Kayama didn't think much of it, but when she caught him glaring at a couple gawking boys in the hallway, she realized what was also going on.

3. After 3 months of awkwardness, Kayama finally dragged him off on a date. Shirakumo was terrified the entire time, waiting for Kayama to tell him he's not her type, but was shocked when she bluntly told him, "we should start dating" after watching a movie. Everything fell into place afterwards.

4. These two became the hottest couple at UA. Up until the Tasomiya Incident, Shirakumo and Kayama acted a lot like how they did before, except they now had dinner dates, movie nights, and all the fun couple stuff like making out behind the school and genuinely flirting (much to their friends' disgust. Seriously, do these two have no shame?). Kayama loved going shopping, and Shirakumo was more than happy to carry around her stuff on his clouds. Once, they got caught sneaking out to the pier at night and made a brave escape on Shirakumo's clouds. As soon as they got back to his house, they were on the floor, laughing.

5. After Shirakumo's death, Kayama hadn't dated since. Sometimes she would go out whenever her friends would set her up, but Shirakumo was the last time she ever has a serious relationship. She protects Sushi with her life, even as he grows older. Sushi was the last living remnant of Shirakumo, and she wants to keep him for as long as possible.

Little does she know he may not be as dead as she thinks... (Dun, dun dun)

Anyways yeah, I’m a slut for this rarepair and it breaks my heart that there isn’t more content on it. Fear not, my fellow CloudNight stans, for I am making a fanfic on Ao3 rn and am also gonna make a one-shot in a few days! Thank you, Nightowl, for giving me the chance to scream for a bit! ;’)

[cranehusbands]

null and voided

Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Wraith | Renee Blasey; voidwalker timeline; hurt/comfort; voidwalker/whitelisted; apex rarepair week; 1563 words

a/n: and here’s where i show you just how unhinged i am.

SO. FOR CONTEXT. me and a friend (it’s mr tumblr user the-goolings, nate) have an au/plotline for the voidwalker timeline seen in wraith’s original story short, with voidwalker being... voidwalker, and her guy in the chair helping her out is crypto, who is originally in his hired gun skin variant before being captured by the syndicate and like... half-cyborged? before he escaped to wait for her while she went about with her revenge. it’s fucked! but anyways they make me feel and they’re in LOVE. please ask me more about this au if you’re so inclined i have. a lot

a very late day 6 for @apex-rarepairweek, hurt/comfort! 

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: Renee pushed away some of the schematics for the parts in his chest cavity, folding her arms across the dining table and resting her head on top of him, turning to keep an eye on him as he was sleeping… no, as he was shut off. He was hardly human, he’d said so himself, he didn’t sleep. ...But that wasn’t right, was it. He still lived, and felt, just as she did, and although he didn’t breathe and eat he still existed by her side like he always did, and that was as human as it got, right? [...] “God, Tae, how did this happen?” 

The only sounds echoing through the apartment were the loud contact of metal on metal, small curses and larger ones, and electricity crackling between two loose wires with a frustrated grumble. Old Chinese food boxes laid strewn around the apartment, old clothes discarded without a second thought, a blanket thrown over the couch like a makeshift bed, and the dining table taken over with tools and schematics, first person pronouns littering the notes of parts and functions. The radio at one end of the table quietly played the news, news of wars and violence that was just white noise against the gentle scraping of metal.

 Renee cursed to herself again, slamming the screwdriver back down on the table as she sat up and rolled her shoulder, scowling a little. She was learning this as she was going along, which was hard when the handwriting on your only guide was illegible most of the time. Running a hand down her face, her fingers parted for a moment, and she dared to steal a glance down at the body resting on the sofa that she’d dragged into the dining room, at the way the metal reflected the synthetic lights, how peaceful he looked, like a… fucked up, cyborg sleeping beauty, eyes closed and chest wide open, exposing the wires and components that kept him alive. How her friend, her partner, her lover, Taejoon Park, was sitting there, half human and half machine, and how she was repairing him for the third time that week.

 Getting back to their timeline had been a mess. She’d done what they’d been fighting for all this time, saving herself from another dimension in her place, barely surviving by the skin of her teeth. Sometimes she could still feel the blood of the man who had ruined her life splashing onto her face, remembering the feeling of his skull as it marbled in her grip with every bash against the wall, and she couldn’t tell if that felt good or not. But what didn’t feel good was stumbling back into their own quiet, secluded apartment, practically tripping through a portal, delirious from blood loss, leaning a shoulder up against the wall as she shook off the heavy gear and dragged her blood along the paint, and seeing a man who seemed so familiar but still so strange rushing to meet her, staring at her as if he was an illusion. She wondered if that was just what he was - he looked like Taejoon, looked at her like he used to, lips parting in the same way as he brought a hand up to her face to hold her, but his touch was cold, metallic and unwelcoming, but all the same, it was him, surely?

 The way his nightmares haunted him, and the way he gripped for her in his sleep as if she would leave him, all but confirmed it.

 It was the Syndicate, he’d said. Got to him when he was gone. Tortured him, barely kept him alive, involuntarily entered him into a simulacrum program, where he escaped with the last of his humanity and had been living in isolation for months before she’d gotten home. He didn’t sleep, or eat - he didn’t need to, not anymore. He just listened to the sounds of his own parts functioning, and wondered what it would be like to hear them stop. He’d taken down all the mirrors, covered the windows and any other reflections, making sure that he didn’t have to see himself, and what he was forced to become. Tried to find Mila by himself, he’d said, but he kept flipping between hopelessness and sheer mania, trashing the apartment before fixing it again to trash it again. All while she was dimensions away, totally unaware that the man who helped her get this far was barely hanging on, waiting for her to come home.

 It wasn’t her fault. Not by any means, and Taejoon had told her as much. But now that what she’d made her life’s purpose was just another page in the book of her personal history, it was all she could think about. Renee pushed away some of the schematics for the parts in his chest cavity, folding her arms across the dining table and resting her head on top of him, turning to keep an eye on him as he was sleeping… no, as he was shut off. He was hardly human, he’d said so himself, he didn’t sleep. ...But that wasn’t right, was it. He still lived, and felt, just as she did, and although he didn’t breathe and eat he still existed by her side like he always did, and that was as human as it got, right? She let out a sigh, shaking as she did so, biting her lip as her eyes started to well with tears, continuing to watch him and remembering the times he’d fall asleep, just like this, at his desk, working for hours for her sake and his own, as she’d wrap a blanket over his shoulder and ruffle his hair with a gentle kiss to the temple-

“God, Tae, how did this happen?” She whispered to herself, breaking down and turning her head away to sob against her forearm, unable to stop herself, her whole body shaking with the force of it, bottled up day in and day out of repairs. Had she let him down? What had they become? Zombies, searching for truth and revenge, the syndicate one step in front with a knife behind their back. She’d gotten revenge in one dimension, but what about the countless others she saw in her sleep, the voices that followed her everywhere and the void that beckoned for soulless company-

 She held in a breath at the familiar whining sound of servo’s releasing locked up air, fans kicking in as a single robotic eye looked around, making noise with every movement. Renee rubbed her eyes against her arm before she sat up, forcing a light smirk. “Hey. I’m not finished, why’d you-”

“Forced startup. Syndicate slave code.” Even now, it was hard to get used to the slight crackle in his voice as he spoke, as he moved his hand to point to the back of his neck.

“We gotta get that fixed.”

“...Have you been crying?”

She froze. “I- no, it’s nothing-”

“Renee…”

“Don’t ‘Renee’ me, Tae.” She almost snapped, not wanting the pity, before she felt herself deflate. “I said it’s nothing, OK?”

She listened to the way his cybernetic eye moved to look her up and down, moving his hands to support himself as he slowly sat up. “Wait, no, I’m not-”

“Quiet.”

“What- no, let me finish my work first.”

He closed up his ribcage with a light click, looking up to her as she rolled her eyes. “There. No more work.”

“That’s only going to wreck itself later, and you’re going to complain, you know that, right?”

“I don’t matter right now. All that matters is you.”

Though she slightly softened, Renee opened her mouth to speak again, only cutting herself off as he put a hand against her cheek - it was cold, but still so warm, and full of love, as he ran a hand across her cheek.

Taejoon moved his hand up to across her freshly shaven (another bad episode with the void, instinctive) head - the metal was cold against her skin, enough to make her flinch a little, but she stayed, almost leaning into it like a cat would, as he gave her a tired smile, moving his hand to hold her face, fingers still stroking what little hair was above her ears. “Kiwi…”

Renee paused, opening her eyes and cocking an eyebrow as she held onto his wrist. “Did… you just call me a kiwi?”

“Mhm… you’re soft and fuzzy.”

She looked at him, chuckling and scoffing a little, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you. Remind me never to cry about you again.”

“Noted. I would never want you to, regardless.”

“But you know I will. We’re just made that way.”

Taejoon hummed, looking down, almost defeated. 

She sighed and pressed her forehead against his, touching what little of his skin was left, listening to the way his eyes closed and gears kicked into overdrive at the soft physical contact, chuckling to herself. “I love you, Tae.”

“Yeah… yeah. I love you too.”.

 “We’re gonna be OK, I promise.” Her voice was quieter now, only for her entire world, as she opened her eyes to look at him, almost blinded by his as he looked back at her.

“As long as we’re together, I don’t think we’ll ever be OK.” Despite himself, Taejoon laughed, her voice gaining that familiar crackle to it as he moved his hand down from her head to her shoulder. “But I suppose… that’s just fine with me.”

Renee moved herself back a little to go in again, moving in to plant a kiss against his lips, slow and deliberate. He was cold to the touch but warm with the love and care for her he felt with every fiber of his being, both what little of him remained and everything that had been replaced, as he returned the kiss, the bells and whistles all going off in harmony as she chuckled into the kiss they shared, feeling a gentle slap against her arm.

[be-dazzled]

FT Rare Pairs Day 2: Distance

Rare Pair Week Day 2: Distance Title: Talking to the Moon Pairing: Mirajane Strauss x Erza Scarlet Dedicated to: @aconstellationofmemories

Mirajane pulled on the lever at the farthest back of the house. The access hatch opened and a wooden stairs fell out of its mouth. She climbed them up without caution, accustomed to stepping on the old wooden planks out of habit. It was dark up in the attic and Mira used the light through the small window and the cracks between the walls to navigate her way through the ghastly, damp-smelling, cramped room. She was headed somewhere else, at the other end of the room where she dragged a folding ladder under what seemed to be just an unsuspicious part of the ceiling. She climbed onto the fourth step and pushed the false door into the rooftop of her rundown house. Mira stepped onto the surface, balanced herself on the squeaky roof-floor and looked for her usual spot, the special spot that afforded her the unobstructed view of the heavenly lantern. She sat herself on her spot, pulling her legs against her chest and stared up at the beautiful moon. In a few minutes, Lisanna would have noticed her absence. She would worry herself and search the house for the oldest Strauss. She'd often find her in her spot at the roof and Mirajane was sure, it was going to be the first place she'd look for her. Before she ran out of time, Mira wanted to savor every bit of seconds she could be alone with her thoughts, in the darkness of the night, under the ethereal shine of the moon above her.

Mirajane often found herself doing the same thing, every night, whether the moon was high up in the darkened sky or hiding behind the cruel clouds. Every night she would seek her spot on the rooftop to think about her. Where was she? How was she doing? Was she alright? When would she be coming back home? To her. When was Erza coming back home to her? Mira asked herself these questions every time Erza was away for a mission; sometimes, for far too long. She pulled her knees tightly against her chest. The cold breeze was being a little too cruel tonight. Unforgiving. Tonight that she was feeling the most vulnerable.

Mira stared up at the moon once more, wondering if Erza was thinking of her too the way she was thinking about her, wherever her latest mission took her.

"Hey, Erza." She talked into the night. "Come back soon, alright?" The skin on her arms lent her warmth as she buried her trembling lips against her own flesh. "I really miss you." came her muffled confession.

Mira wasn't sure when it started or how it even happened. But she swore she could hear Erza's voice calling to her, blending with the low howl of the breeze that slapped on her skin. It was stupid, she knew. Erza was on the other side of Fiore. But Mira found comfort in knowing that maybe she was looking up into the same sky, staring at the same moon as she was, on Erza's own side of the world. That maybe, just like the take-over mage, Erza descended into madness and talked to the moon as if she was talking to Mirajane herself.

"I really miss you." This time, she buried her face between her arms and cried silently with the moon as her only witness.

The false door creaked open and spit out a shock of hair with same color as Mira's, only shorter.

"There you are, Mira-nee."

Mira shifted in her spot, hiding entirely from the youngest Strauss. She didn't want her to worry so she wiped her tears with her hands and composed herself before Mira faced Lisanna. She turned to her with a bright smile, albeit forced, and somehow convinced the youngest Strauss that she wasn't bawling her eyes just now.

"You shouldn't be out here! It's… so… cowd." Lisanna's teeth involuntarily chattering while she hid the rest of her body under the roof-floor, leaving only her head popping above it.

Mira pulled herself up and walked back up to the pushed-open hatch, looking down at her younger sister quivering in the cold. Taking pity on the youngest Strauss, Mira told her she was just behind her. Lisanna disappeared below the roof giving Mira the room to climb inside after her. Her time alone had diminished each passing day and she was growing dismayed. One day she couldn't any more escape. Mira threw one wistful look at the orb of the night that seemed to have taken pity on her.

"Tomorrow again, old friend." She said before disappearing underneath the roof after Lisanna.

Unlike Mirajane, her old friend didn't sleep. It remained steadfast in the dead of the night, lending light to the redhead guarding post as her comrades found their own places on the clearing in the forest. Erza crossed her arms against her chest, fighting the sleepiness that was inviting her for what her brain said was a short rest. She knew better. The moment she'd close her eyes, Erza would be awake in the following morning, regretting the decision of obeying her brain. She lectured on the importance of discipline and she wasn't about to let neither Natsu nor Gray have something over her to bite her back in the ass. So, Erza was just thankful she had that silver moon up above to keep her company.

Her old friend.

Erza stare up the sky, brown eyes struggling to keep themselves open. But the moon, her old friend, was rather beautiful tonight – full but somehow its light dimmed into dull silver. Beautiful, nevertheless. The silver glow reminded her of long, lush silver hair, strands of bangs clipped on top of her forehead. Her mind drifted to the barmaid behind the counter back at the guild. She must be asleep now, soundly and comfortably. Erza caught herself smiling, brown eyes still adoring the old friend watching over her and her comrades who were snoring in their deep slumber behind her. Erza, however, wasn't really looking at the moon. But in her slow descend to madness, or perhaps if she could have only been honest to herself, her gradual submission to loneliness, she was seeing in her mind the take-over mage, staring up at the same moon at her own side of the world.

"Do you ever think if me too? The way I think of you," She asked aloud, directing the question to that old, silent friend who only glowed in response, "Mira?"

The sound of her name alone made her heart skipped a beat. But along that elating feeling was a painful blow that shattered her heart into pieces – hundreds, millions of pieces – knowing that she could never have her. That reality stung the back of Erza's brown eyes and constricted her throat. Why she had to torture herself thinking about her, of both the good and the pain that her love for the take-over mage caused her, Erza would and could never understand. She never tried to fight it. She basked in that love and she faced it head on but Mirajane wasn't willing to. That she understood – tried to, forced herself to understand.

Mirajane wanted to please people, to be on their good side, to only talk well of her. Erza didn't care about those things but she cared so much for what Mira wanted – too much that she'd own up her pain alone if that would make her, at least, be at peace. Because she knew Mira wasn't happy. They both were miserable. Mira, however, clearly told her that the love that they have for each other wasn't right. That it wasn't normal. That it wasn't easy to understand for some. Erza was angry back then when the take over mage posited her reasons – excuses – on why they couldn't answer to that love. But she wasn't angry now. She was just missing her, the demon her heart stubbornly longed for.

Not to be any more of an inconvenience for Mira, the Requip mage resolved to understand her and chose to love Mirajane in silence. Even if it hurts. She'd endure so long as she could still yearn for her in distance.

She let one tear to escape but that's it all she was going to allow. At least, she had to appear strong not to pass the burden to the woman she loved. Erza would hold her head high, if that's what it takes, so Mira wouldn't blame herself for being that one thing that was standing in their way.

"I love you." Erza told the moon, in the hopes that maybe it could carry her message to that person at the other side – wishing that Mira might be at the other side. "I love you so much, demon."

It took a month or so for Erza and her team to come home. Mira bounced at the news, ecstatic to see the face she had been badly missing. Erza approached her first before she could even pass around the counter to meet her but only to give the head waitress the accomplishment report about the job Team Natsu did. Without so much of a smile, without so much of a glance, the Requip lumbered to the table where her group gathered. She was smiling, about what Natsu said and what Lucy complained about. She didn't want Mira to catch her staring but Erza would steal a few longing glances at the take-over mage who busied herself wiping the bar counter. There was no use, anyway. Even if they were in the same building, in the same room, even if they were standing right in front of each other, there wasn't any much difference as if they were at either ends of the world.

Because that's how it fucking felt.

---

Writer’s Corner: For someone who claims she doesn’t write angst... oh well, apparently I do for crackships. All hail to my two Queens. Let me know what you think, alright? 

Tag: @ftguildevents @fairytail-rarepairs

[a-mellowtea]

The Greatest Kingdom | RWBY Volume 7 Chapter 1 Review

Now that my hype has died down a respectable amount, I think I’m clear-headed enough to express my thoughts on the RWBY Volume 7 premiere. I’m going to hold off on posting this until it’s publicly available and everyone comfortably knows what I’m on about, so by the time of reading, this’ll be a week-or-so old.

Going into Volume 7, I have to say, I was extremely excited. Volume 6 was a little bittersweet for me: a solid mix of things I liked and didn’t, where one didn’t really overshadow or completely take away from the other. The hiatus between Volumes 6 and 7 was also particularly exhausting, on both a mental and emotional level, and while that may sound over-dramatic, I’m sure many can attest to how much of a drag it all was. 

However, Volume 7 set us up somewhere I’ve been aching to see more of for a while: since Volume 2, if I’m honest. That being, of course, the Kingdom of Atlas and its defunct partner, Mantle. There’s so much rich potential for story in Atlas and, as “The Greatest Kingdom” revealed, CRWBY was set to dive right in, to some fairly pleasant results.

We open the Chapter with a shot panning down through the night sky, with our typical emphasis on the shattered moon. This is the first Volume, though, wherein we are aware of its true nature: how it got to be that way and, appropriately, the raised stakes now quite literally looming over our heroes’ heads. There is something more immediate to attend to, however, revealed as the shot finishes moving: the Atlesian air fleet.

I’m not certain if this was mentioned anywhere too openly, but Volume 7 Chapter 1 was originally intended to be the finale of Volume 6. I seem to recall Neath Oum, the voice of Ren, making comment on how an important moment was shifted because of this change (which we’ll get to in a bit). Point being, the Volume picks up exactly where Volume 6 left off, with the heroes’ stolen air ship, Manta 5-1, being welcomed home by an Atlesian officer. It doesn’t feel all that much like the premieres of the past; simply a continuation, though I’m hesitant to label that as a good or bad thing.

“But we are here,” Jaune then insists to the group. “We got the lamp to Atlas, so I guess we land and get some answers.” It’s obviously not going to be that simple -- wouldn’t be very interesting if it was -- but that’s something that stuck out to me. The heroes, this little hiccup aside, have accomplished the majority of their mission. They made it to Atlas, which was as far as they presumably intended to go (Yang, V6Ch6: “We can’t stop until the lamp is safe”). They’re our heroes, of course, so something will keep them going, but I am interested to see exactly what does push them to continue a fight they now feel is rather pointless. James has a line in the trailer about how “until now, I believed it was impossible to truly turn the tide against Salem”. I do wonder what that could be, and moreover, whether or not our heroes will inform him of everything they learned in Volume 6.

Back in the Chapter, Weiss warns that if they land in a stolen air ship, there’s no way they’ll be heard out or get a chance to speak with Ironwood. Now, I promise this is the only time I’ll mention further gripes with Volume 6 but honestly: you couldn’t’ve realized that sooner? That should’ve been the first thing on their minds when they decided to take such a risky course of action: is this really going to get us where we need to go when we know that the Kingdom of Atlas has closed its borders? It doesn’t matter that the air fleet is deployed aggressively; they should have accounted for the fact that they wouldn’t just be able to waltz right up Atlas. Yet somehow they seem to have forgotten about that until this rather convenient -- or inconvenient -- moment.

After Weiss perks up and remembers she can contact her sister, we get our first look at Mantle proper, and it’s wonderful. Literally down-to-earth, the dirty streets and brown-grey color palette intermixed with neon signage gives it something of a dystopian feel that is incredibly unique. Here, we get our first look at General James Ironwood since Volume 4 (discounting the Volume 7 trailer), and the presentation is telling. On an enormous neon holographic display, looming over the city of Mantle, and though his words are a promise of safety, he makes them at a distance. I doubt this is intended as screaming ‘dictator’, but merely showing a divide; one that is certainly not good. Yang and Ruby share a remark that he looks tired and Qrow wonders worriedly what he’s been doing (a year is kindly added to my life every time Qrow calls him “James”, and yes I will die in this rarepair hell). Indeed it seems that, in the month and a bit since Weiss left, things have taken a steep turn for the worse, with constant Atlesian patrols and surveillance drones in the streets. It’s certainly looking bleak, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love this set-up. The shot with the children lobbing a pebble at a drone, then hiding from it, in particular does a good job solidifying that this has become a norm, but an unwelcome one.

Weiss continues to insist that Winter can help them, but our first look at the eldest Schnee sibling begs to differ. It appears as though she’s upholding the military law placed over Mantle, and this seems to shock Weiss a good deal. With that off the table, Maria interjects that she knows someone who can help them.

Now would probably be a good moment for a quick aside to mention how wonderful of a job Jason Liebrecht does as the new voice of Qrow. The difference is noticeable, but I found it wasn’t enough to completely throw me off: at least, not for long. It’ll take some getting used to, but the character is no different, and Jason’s performance is solid.

Our heroes head out into the streets of Mantle, and we get a bit of light exposition from Maria about the Kingdom on the walk, after Yang continues to be everyone’s favorite brash blonde and kick subtlety out into the middle of the street where it is summarily smashed by a truck. I don’t have much to say about the encounter with Rupert the Drunk other than it felt perfectly in-place for what we know of Atlas and Mantle, and that Maria’s right: these kids have no concept of keeping a low profile when it counts. Not that I can blame Weiss; I honestly probably would have done the same. Although, given that we do see Rupert’s blue-beanie’d friend in the trailer, and how the shot pans back to show Winter, I’m willing to make a bet that this particular man will let someone in Mantle know the lost ex-Schnee heiress is back.

And then we’re introduced to Pietro. He is wonderful. Please protect.

The scene itself plays out as fairly lighthearted, until Yang and Blake bring the topic back around to the situation in Mantle. From there, we hear what we were basically expecting: James is scared (”paranoid”, as Pietro corrects), and it seems like our heroes aren’t the only ones having a hard time figuring out who to trust. I’d be hard pressed to believe that, given the Volume’s opening and the circumstances, the Queen virus from Volumes 2 and 3 is completely out of the picture. As it was so succinctly put by a fellow Redditor: this Volume is going to break this man.

Weiss steps up to ask about the Council and Winter, but it’s quickly sidetracked by Pietro recognizing her, and then Yang by the arm that he, presumably, built for her. The revelation that Pietro knows Team RWBY isn’t given much time to sink in before the alarms out in the street begin to blare and it becomes time for the premiere’s obligatory -- but honestly, very well done -- fight scene.

And now I will make my own obligatory aside to praise the music. The guitar piece in this fight is not done by Jeff Williams, as many probably expected, but is rather Alex Abraham’s work. I’ve seen a good handful of people I mentioned this to be surprised that he even plays guitar, and yes; yes, he does. And he kicks ass at it, if that wasn’t obvious enough.

While I saw the fight scene a handful of times before the Chapter premiered, thanks to RTX and again about three days before hand when it was released through Entertainment Weekly, I’m still incredibly impressed by it on a technical level. It’s a fight scene mostly for the sake of having a fight scene, but it looks damn good. Qrow, Oscar and Ruby’s sections stood out to me the most as having some solid choreography and camera work.

And then in a somewhat jarring shift in tone (will this show ever decide if the Grimm are a threat or not? Will power levels ever not give us a headache? Find out... sometime! Hopefully!), we get the aforementioned big moment: Penny, our resident robotic ray of sunshine, is alive and well!

And... kinda honestly makes our heroes look like jobbers? I say that fondly, and with a good deal of chuckling, because I do recall that Monty (or perhaps it was one of the boys?) mentioned Miles and Kerry were fairly averse to having a character use lasers specifically because of how powerful they are. In any case, it makes for a spectacular entrance, and I do especially love Penny’s graceful little flair of a pirouette up to the moon before she lands.

I will say perhaps my one gripe with this episode isn’t Penny’s return, but Ruby and the others’ reaction to it. It doesn’t break the episode, but allowing for comedy over what should have honestly been a very emotional moment for our lead didn’t sit right with me, personally. It’s treated as though this was almost expected, or at least a possibility they knew about in-universe, not a “holy crap, we saw her get torn to shreds”. Just because the audience expects it doesn’t mean the characters would, and I think I was simply expecting more from it. Then again, this is only Chapter 1, so we’ll see where they go with it.

After Penny blasts off to go save another quadrant of the city (she is now its official protector, after all), and Maria is brilliantly oblivious, RNJRWBY and QO are, in an unsurprising turn of events, apprehended by Ace Ops (ASOPS, Atlesian Special OPerativeS, would make a lick more sense, but ah well). I’m a bit concerned about the big ensemble this Volume, but I love the no-shits-given Chad vibes off their leader, Clover. It seems as though his Semblance, or character inspiration at least, is good luck (spinning a horseshoe, wearing a rabbit’s foot and has a clover as his emblem), and I cannot wait for him to have some dynamic with Qrow.

And Clover summarily lists off how many rules they’ve violated in the city in the span of about 10 minutes. Maria: hums, nods, fucks off. Basically one big “welp, he’s got ya there kids”. Bless her snarky soul; I hope this isn’t the last time we see her.

And, yes, thank you very much: these are the consequences I was hoping for. It’s likely to just get them where they need to go -- we wouldn’t have a Volume if they were in jail for all of it -- but they did still break the law and that’s that as far as Atlas’ forces were ever going to be concerned. I’m contented with something surface-level on that front.

We end the Chapter with our heroes arrested, in the back of a transport, and looking like they’re reevaluating their life choices. Cue the new OP!

Briefly: visuals of the new intro are solid, the staff of Creation being behind Monty’s name is really damn clever, “Trust Love” is a wonderful pop-y theme, Penny’s a cinnamon roll, someone please save James from all this bullshit.

Overall, a strong continuation off the previous Volume, but again I’d be hesitant to say it felt like a “proper” premiere. It’s very different from the feeling of previous ones, which can be chalked up to the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be a premiere but a finale, so ultimately I cannot fault it for coming out like neither. It was a good introduction to Mantle, the dynamic of the lower Kingdom, and left me in anticipation of what’s to come, which is such a refreshing feeling.

I’m hopeful and excited for the rest of the Volume. Let’s see where this roller coaster ride takes us.

[crystallized-shadow]

Rating: Teen Pairing: Kakashi/Madara Word Count: 1590 Warnings: Light angst, mentions of human experimentation, Obito and Madara swap generations Summary: Kakashi's heart died when he lost Madara. Then he finds Madara again and Kakashi's not sure if his heart can take losing the Uchiha again.

For @naruto-rarepair-bingo Board A: generation swap

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

When Kakashi’s stubborn stupidity had caused Madara’s death his heart had died too. He swore he’d never let anyone get close enough to hurt him again, he couldn’t handle losing anyone else. Rin and Minato-sensei had accepted the familiar cold attitude with pitying looks and a promise to listen whenever he was ready to talk. Kakashi found that odd, he’d never talked to them about anything before, so why would he start now?

It had taken Rin nearly getting kidnapped by Mist shinobi for Kakashi to realize he’d let her get close to him. That her death would be nearly as bad as losing Madara again. Minato-sensei has commented on how brutal his kills were, but the tone had told Kakashi the older man would have done the same thing if Kakashi hadn’t beaten him to it. Apparently Minato-sensei couldn’t stand the thought of losing another team member anymore than he could.

Kakashi’s promotion to ANBU had been met with resistance, but he’d managed to convince his sensei he could handle it. He excelled in the ANBU, rumor had it he might make captain soon. Normally Kakashi wouldn’t believe such rumors, but his next wave of missions had been his hardest yet. He’d done them without compliant, despite how utterly insane some of them were, and even enjoyed the solo aspect of them. That being said, Kakashi was secretly glad to be added to a team for the next mission, taking the position of second in command. He vowed this mission would be his smoothest one yet.

Staring at body floating in the large tube-like chamber, Kakashi finds himself at a loss. This was supposed to be an easy mission; all his team had to do was infiltrate one of Orochimaru’s supposed labs and find any useful information they could. That was it, simple easy mission; aside from the high chance of deadly traps and running into the sannin himself. Taking on Orochimaru single-handedly would be preferable to this; at least it would be a quick end. Not this slow agony that made his heart skip several painful beats.

Madara

Madara Uchiha

The selfless idiot that had pushed him out of harms away…

…that had given him his Sharingan…

…that should be DEAD…

…not floating in a glass tube filled with some strange liquid.

Kakashi wants to write it off as just his heart getting the better of his brain and making him see someone else as Madara, even if no one else had such a wild mane of hair. He wants to lock this moment away and never think of it again, and he’s going to, but then-

Then the pale figure opens his eyes and an achingly familiar Sharingan locks onto his own gifted one.

The world disappears around Kakashi as an inferno of chakra overwhelms him.

Instinctive awareness comes back to Kakashi first and he realizes he’s in a hospital before he’s fully conscious. Once he’s capable of higher thinking, the Hatake is torn between praying everything he remembered from the mission was just a nightmare and hoping it really happened.

“Welcome back.” That calm, compassionate voice could only be Minato-sensei.

“Did it really happen?” Kakashi questions softly, opening his eye to look at the blonde, aware his expression is a thousand times more open than he wants it to be.

“I…” Minato starts before he cuts himself with a sigh and breaks eye contact. It takes him a moment, but when Minato looks back at Kakashi, he’s no longer a sensei, but the Hokage. “What do you remember?”

“Madara, alive.”

“Yes, that really happened.” Minato pauses, knowing his former student needs a few moments to process that statement.

“How?” Kakashi finally asks, because that’s what he desperately needs to know; he doesn’t care about anything else, just how his best friend came back from the dead.

“That is unclear,” Minato says, unable to suppress his laugh at the unimpressed glare Kakashi shoots at him. “From our primary look at Orochimaru’s notes it would seem that he found Madara on the brink of death and decided to experiment on him. The full extent of what happened to him is unknown, those notes weren’t recovered, but it appears Orochimaru was still looking into Hashirama’s DNA.”

“Hashirama’s DNA…?” Kakashi mutters in confusion before his eye widens, “the Mokuton.”

“Precisely,” Minato sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes and Kakashi notices for the first time just how tired his sensei looks. “Madara displayed the ability when he broke out of his container to get to you.”

“To get to me?”

“The other ANBU reported that he broke out, injured you in the process, and then refused to let anyone near you. He had to be sedated so you could both be brought back here.”

“He’s here?”

“Of course,” Minato grins brightly, “we would never abandon a fellow Leaf shinobi! He’s still sedated though, until we can make sure he’s stable and still on our side.”

“Madara would never betray us!” Kakashi snaps before he can stop himself, much to his embarrassment.

“Kakashi…” Minato catches the younger shinobi’s eyes, a pained look in his deep blue eyes. “The Madara you lost might not be the Madara you found.”

“Impossible.”

“Just keep it in mind,” Minato advises as he stands up, “once you are discharged come see me with your mission report and we can discuss this more then.”

In the end Kakashi is given a week’s leave from the ANBU to recover, which is hardly necessary for the minor concussion he’d had, even Rin had agreed with him, but Minato-sensei had held firm. He had claimed it was for the emotional trauma of finding Madara like that, but Kakashi called bullshit; his sensei just wanted him to take it easy for longer.

Life passes by in a blur of missions, and the occasional, reluctant social outing Rin had dragged him along for, until 3 months later Kakashi finds himself being assigned a long-term mission: helping Madara get reacquainted with the village. At first Kakashi is overjoyed, not that he shows it, until he realizes that means Madara is temporarily staying with him and that makes his heart beat painfully. He wants to protest, but he knows Madara doesn’t have anyone to stay with and he couldn’t turn his friend away. Kakashi was sure he could handle it.

Not even a week later, Kakashi knows he was wrong, very, very wrong. If his heart kept skipping beats every time he saw Madara stumbling sleepily into the kitchen or when the Uchiha smiled at him he was going to have a damn heart attack. Then there was also his ever increasing nighttime problems; why did Madara have to invade his dreams and why did he have to be naked in those dreams!? Kakashi was going to have to try harder to ignore the Uchiha, maybe then the stupid dreams would stop.

“I’m moving back in with my clan,” Madara declares one night, nearly 2 weeks after he’s moved into the lonely Hatake household.

“What?” Kakashi mutters, barely hearing his own words over the sound of something in his heart shattering.

“I said I’m going back to my clan.”

“Why?”

“You clearly hate my presence,” Madara grumbles with huff, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting in a manner that shouldn’t be so cute. “You’ve barely spoken to me at all this week and you yell at me almost every morning.”

“I…” Kakashi trails off, not sure how to make Madara stay. “I don’t...that’s not…”

“Spit it out!” Madara snaps, glaring at Kakashi with his one visible black eye. Whatever Orochimaru had done to Madara had grown his eye back and turned the remaining one purple; Kakashi thought the purple suited Madara just fine, but the Uchiha always covered the eye with his hair.

“I don’t hate you,” Kakashi finally manages to spit out, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks, “you can stay.”

“Even if you don’t hate me,” Madara pauses briefly, doubt coloring his words, “you clearly aren’t happy that I’m here.”

“You have no idea how happy I am that you’re not dead,” Kakashi says honestly, knowing he needs to choose his next words carefully so he doesn’t lose the Uchiha, “I’m just not used to…”

“Used to what?”

“Havingacrush!” Kakashi blurts the words in a rush before he can stop himself, startling his older teammate. It takes Madara a minute to decode what he’d just said, but when he does, he can’t help but chuckle.

“Kakashi,” Madara coos, moving to sit next to his teammate and throwing an arm over the other’s shoulders, “that is both the saddest and most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Fuck you.”

“If you think you can.” Both shinobi flush darkly at Madara’s unexpected reply as the Uchiha quickly scrambles away. It takes Kakashi several minutes to get over the shock, but when he does he finds Madara across the room, doing his best impression of a startled cat.

“W-what?”

“I said uhh…” Madara mutters, ducking under his hair to avoid making eye contact, “how about dinner?”

“Are you asking me out?” Kakashi asks, unsure if he’s reading the situation right, Rin had told him he wasn’t the best when it came to understanding romantic situations.

“Would you be upset if I was?”

“No.” Kakashi says without any hesitation, knowing he said the right thing when Madara meets his eyes with a brilliant grin.

“Then yes, I am.”

“Dinner sounds nice,” Kakashi agrees with a smaller, more sedate but no less happy grin.

[pickalilywrites]

jean and pieck + we were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other. 🖤

love u rarepair queen xoxo

Show Me What You’ve Got 

JeanPiku. High School AU. 

1667 words. 

Buy me a ko-fi!

Jean will pretend he’s too good for school dances – stuffed into the school gym with too many people wearing too much perfume, the lights a little too brightly colored, and the food even worse – but he secretly relishes in these overhyped school events if only because it allows him to dress up slightly better than he usually does. Rather than throwing on a pair of jeans and a plain tee, he can put on slacks and a nice button up without looking too dressed up. He must admit that it’s a struggle to do his hair so that it looks effortless, just a five-minute job rather than the half hour it actually took, but he thinks he’s done a fine job. At any rate, he’s cleaned himself well enough to gain some subtle glances from many of the girls in his year, distracting them from their dates. Ah, he’ll have to remember what he did with his hair. It’s similar to his usual style, but he did a little trick he learned online about brushing a certain way while he blow-dried his hair. What was it again?

“Jean Kirstein,” a familiar voice says. An arm loops through Jean’s and he looks down to see Pieck in a shimmering blue nightgown the same color as periwinkle flowers. When they make eye contact, the short girl shoots him her trademark grin – impish and lopsided. He sees that she’s actually made an effort to look a little nicer today. Her hair, usually a tangle of thick, black locks, has actually been brushed for once and pulled up into a high ponytail. She brings up a hand, her fingernails painted a sparkling silver, to poke his cheek. “Are you thinking about how good-looking you are tonight?”

Jean would think she was flirting with him if she were any other girl, but he knows she’s saying this to tease him for his vanity. He scowls in response, and she giggles in reply. “It’s about time you showed up,” he tells her. It’s difficult to speak to her without shouting over the music. “I was beginning to think you had abandoned me.”

“Abandoned you? No, you know I’d never miss a high school dance for the world,” Pieck jokes, patting his hand reassuringly. She’s usually rarely ever present at a dance but had changed her mind last week after a few of their friends’ siblings – elementary schoolers named Gabi, Falco, Udo, and Zofia – had begged her to go and take pictures for them because they were so curious about what high school was like. “And how could I miss seeing you in your element?”

Although he had been thinking about that only a few minutes before, it’s embarrassing to hear those words come from his friend’s mouth. Jean finds himself casting his eyes bashfully downwards and rubbing the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t say that it’s totally my thing,” he mumbles, voice barely audible over the loud pop music in the background. “Dances are fun, I guess, but I don’t care that much about them.”

Pieck raises an eyebrow. “Is that why you spent an hour on your hair today?” She bursts into laughter when Jean begins to splutter. She puts a hand on his shoulder and grins. “I’m just joking. I think you look great, by the way.”

It’s relieving to hear her say that. He’s used to her teasing him about his looks – usually that he’s spent far too much effort in looking good for school – so it’s nice to know that he hasn’t overdone it tonight. “Thanks,” he says. “You look good too.”

“Mmm,” Pieck replies, not really listening. She’s looking out on the dancefloor where most of their classmates are dancing awkwardly to an EDM song that everyone pretends to like but secretly hates. The dark-haired girl tugs at Jean’s sleeve, tilting her head towards the crowd with a curious smile. “I’m wondering why you aren’t on the dancefloor though. Isn’t that where all the fun is?”

Jean does his best not to grimace. It’s not that he’s terrible at dancing or even that he dislikes it. He just despises being shoved into a small space and forced to dance. With these many bodies stuffed into one room, it gets too damn hot. If he’s dancing on the dance floor, he’s bound to get sweaty and mess his hair. No, he’d rather keep away and stand on the side looking pretty.

“Oh, come on,” Pieck laughs. She holds up a hand to cover her smile. “Are you telling me you’re not dancing…at a dance? Then why are you here at all?”

“Hey, that’s not it!” Jean protests. Ah, this girl…she’s the only one who could ever make him feel like a fool about a dance.

“You’re supposed to be the coolest one here, aren’t you?” Pieck says. She takes him by the hand, but he refuses to be dragged onto the dancefloor and his fingers slip through hers. This doesn’t stop her from leaving without him, moving her body as if she’s a blade of grass in the wind. If Jean were dancing like Pieck, he’d be embarrassed. Her strange movements are already attracting the attention of others, but Pieck doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, Jean’s not even sure if she notices. She’s too busy whipping a fake lasso around her head and tossing it Jean’s way, making a show of reeling him in. “Come on, Jean!” she calls over the music. “Show me what you’ve got!”

It should be embarrassing, but she looks as if she’s having the night of her life spinning about on the glossy dancefloor. Her dance moves don’t help either. People look awkward dancing normally, throwing their arms about as if they have somewhat of an idea of what they’re doing, but it’s as if Pieck’s trying to look as ridiculous as possible as she reenacts horribly outdated dance moves from decades ago. She alternates between dance moves – going between standing in place and pumping her arms as she slowly twists around as if she’s a human sprinkler before walking energetically in place, arms outstretched as if mowing an imaginary lawn. Anyone else would look ridiculous, but Pieck somehow makes it work.

He sighs when he sees Pieck cup her hands over her mouth and calls out his name again, waving him over. If you can’t beat them, join them, right? He finds himself making his way over to her, moving his body from side to side like a snake with every hop he takes. Does he feel like a fool? Absolutely, but it’s worth it seeing Pieck bursting into giggles.

Jean is used to people staring at him, but it’s usually because of what he’s wearing and not because he’s dancing like a robot. It’s the sort of situation he tries to avoid, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it this particular night. It might be because dancing is actually more fun than he had thought it was, or maybe because he secretly enjoys attention even if it’s for something unflattering, but he thinks it’s because of how happy Pieck looks on the dancefloor with him, cheeks flushed and mouth opened in laughter as they both dance the funky chicken. He tries to suppress a smile when he sees his other classmates around them trying their hand at other retro dance moves – the moonwalk, the MC Hammer, the worm.

“What do you think, Pieck?” Jean asks as he does the shimmy. “My dance moves aren’t too shabby.”

“Not bad, Kirstein,” Pieck laughs, slightly out of breath from all the dancing. “Not bad.”

He opens his mouth to compliment her, but the music suddenly changes pace. The upbeat electronic music ceases, replaced with a slow ballad. The lights soften, shifting from bright neon to soft pinks and purples. While Jean is frozen in place, taken by surprise by the sudden change in atmosphere, others are pairing up. Those who aren’t dancing are quickly moving away from the floor, preferring to stand at the sidelines rather than paired up awkwardly with a classmate and sway side to side as they wait for the song to end. Unfortunately, Jean does not move quickly enough and is stuck staring at the only person left – Pieck.

He expects her to be mortified at having to slow dance with him – Slow dancing at a high school dance? That’s even worse than regular dancing at a high school dance! – but she looks strangely unbothered at their current circumstance. He’s even more surprised when she stretches out a hand to him, an inviting smile on her face. She cocks her head, a mischievous expression similar to the one she had when she had coaxed him to dance with her earlier.

“Hey, Kirstein,” she says with that characteristic grin of hers. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

If she were any other girl, he would say no. He’s far too invested in himself to pursue anyone seriously – nothing is cooler than a guy who’s unattached – and he’s not so cruel as to give girls a false hope, but it’s different if Pieck is the one asking him for a dance. If it’s Pieck – Pieck, who likes to tease Jean playfully about his vanity, who is the only one that can convince him to make a fool of himself at such a big school event, who looks elegant as ever in her glossy gown even as she’s doing a bad rendition of Madonna’s vogue – then he really has no choice but to accept.

“The honor’s all mine,” he replies, and he marvels at how well his hands fit the curves of her waist. “If you think my other moves were cool, wait ‘til you see me slow dance.”

“Is that so?” Pieck looks up at him, giving him a challenging smile. “Then show me what you’ve got, Kirstein.”