#only to yet again be disappointed by the sheer force of combined

[salad-storm]

sakusa and atsumu are both horribly sore losers but for different reasons. sakusa is because he's the youngest sibling and his older siblings have a massive age gap to him - he never learned how to lose. But atsumu has a twin brother who he fights with for everything. He Needs to win.

I think what results from this is no one wanting to play boardgames with the two of them anymore. They try once only to realise, again, that skts are the worst and never play anything with them again

[theflyingfeeling]

Nineteenth Day of Gift-Giving: New Skills

Prompt: musical instruments

I hope you're ready for some teenage drama, because the high school AU is back! This time from Olli's POV 🥰 Read the previous part of the AU here 💕

~

“Fuck,” Olli swore as he dropped his pick on the floor, for about the millionth time during the sixty minutes of band practice and the now almost ten additional minutes after it combined. “He’s not coming. Joonas, I swear he's not coming. That’s just what he does to people, you know? He makes them think they’re… I don't know, and then just leaves them hanging, just like he did to Joel.”

Special, Olli completed the thought in his mind. He makes you feel so goddamn special and like you mean something, but then he changes his mind and takes it all back.

“Take it easy now, I’m sure he’ll get here soon.”

“I’m NOT nervous!”

“Didn’t say you were,” Joonas argued back, handing Olli his pick back. Olli fiddled with it for a while before pocketing it, just to save both their backs from having to pick it up yet again in a matter of seconds. “Although… you certainly look the part.”

The information made Olli groan in frustration. More and more by every minute that passed with no sign of Aleksi at the music classroom door, he regretted ever offering to help him with his bass skills. He was thankful for Joonas for keeping him company in the meantime nevertheless; had he been left alone to wait for Aleksi to show up, he probably would’ve either fled the moment he had convinced himself Aleksi had stood him up. On his way out he probably would've tripped down the stairs in his misery as well, breaking his bones as well as his own heart – either that, or he would’ve passed out from sheer overthinking. With Joonas staying behind with him on the pretext of offering to clean up the place with Olli and letting the others go home early, Olli would at least have someone resuscitate him back to life if things went south.

When Olli was seconds away from asking Joonas to give him a drive home so he could cry himself to sleep from all the disappointment and feeling like an idiot, the classroom door opened and in stepped an out-of-breath Aleksi, a wide smile already on his lips.

“Oh, thank god,” he panted, “I’m so sorry, I…” he brushed blond strands of hair off his forehead; only then Olli noticed he wasn’t wearing his signature red bandanna that day. “The philosophy teacher… I had to…”

In all his relief, Olli hadn’t realised he hadn’t even greeted Aleksi yet until Joonas nudged him to say something so Aleksi could catch his breath.

“It’s okay! I’m– I mean, it’s not like I have anything else to do.” Side-eyeying Joonas he saw his best friend pinch the bridge of his nose. “I mean… I’m glad you could make it.”

It was the best Olli could force out of his mouth, although it did not even begin to describe how he felt about Aleksi having arrived at last, washing away all his doubt and fear in an instant (only to replace them with a blush on his cheeks and butterflies in his stomach). Ever since last Friday when Aleksi had come in the music classroom to fetch his forgotten phone charger, catching Olli practising on his brand-new bass during recess, Olli had not been able to think about much else but the jamming session Aleksi had then proposed. He had wasted the entire weekend daydreaming about the scenario when he should’ve been writing an essay for English class, and their short conversation in chemistry about it last Monday had not helped his case one bit. By Tuesday he had not been able help himself anymore and had blabbered about it to Joonas, who had immediately proceeded to tease him about having ‘another date with the snobbish DJ dude’, no matter how much Olli kept telling him that the two of them going to a gig together a few weeks ago had not, in fact, been a date any more than this one would be. 

He was only going to show Aleksi a few tricks on his bass. It would be all chilled-out and casual and not at all date-ish. And yet, Olli barely remembered what they were supposed to be even doing when Aleksi was suddenly standing in front of him, his stupid blond hair all ruffled and his stupid eyes staring right into his, holding his tongue and thoughts hostage.

“Oof, is that the time?” Joonas made a show of squinting at the clock on the classroom wall. “I better get home, we’re going to grandma’s for dinner tonight. See ya, Olli!”

Just to buy a little more time before Joonas would leave him at Aleksi’s mercy, Olli pinched Joonas’ sleeve to murmur into his year.

 “You’re not gonna tell Joel, are you?”

Infuriatingly – albeit perfectly in-character – Joonas only winked and was out the door before Olli could throw himself on his knees in front of his friend to make him promise; Olli did not need the burden of getting on the wrong side of Joel for hanging out with his nemesis on top of all the cold sweat he was practically swimming on doing so in the first place, even without Joel's supposed judgement. Often he found himself shying away from even glancing at Aleksi during the day, simply out of fear Joel or anybody at all would catch him in the act. Some days Olli was sure that literally everyone around him would be able to see the yearning in his eyes and hear the lovesick sigh he suppressed every time he as much as had a glimpse of Aleksi’s red bandanna somewhere. Hell, he barely even dared to let himself daydream about the boy in the safety of his own bedroom at home, afraid the entire world might hear his thoughts which kept repeating Aleksi’s name and the awfully hilarious jokes he told him in chemistry every Monday, for each day that passed, the insides of Olli's head grew louder and louder, more demanding, more desperate.

Even seconds after Joonas had left, Olli was still staring down at his bass, knowing Aleksi would see the latest state of his blush if he looked up at him instead.

“So, ummm…” Aleksi broke the awkward silence, “did you wanna teach me some bass or…?”

Only then Olli dared a new glance at Aleksi. He saw a kind smile on his face, which immediately helped Olli to relax his grip on his instrument.

“Okay,” he smiled in turn and lifted the bass strap over his head. “I thought we could start with, umm, some basic chords?”

“Yeah, show me.”

Their hands brushed when Olli passed the bass to Aleksi, and at once his mind travelled back to their non-date at the rock concert. He still couldn’t tell what exactly had encouraged him enough to take Aleksi’s hand then – even though he had come to his senses the very second the show ended – and he almost lost his mind every time he thought about it too (which was more often than Olli would've cared to admit). He could only hope that this instance of feeling Aleksi's hand on his for a moment so fleeting Olli wasn't even sure it had happened at all wouldn’t have the same effect on him, because exam week was coming up and he desperately needed his both brain cells to cram his way through revision.

Once Aleksi had adjusted the bass trap on his own shoulder, Olli realised something, embarrassment making his neck sweat.

“Sorry, I forgot you’re left-handed.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I… it’s cool, no problem at all. So where do I put my hands? Is this okay?”

Olli guided him through a small variety of styles to hold one’s bass guitar, making sure their hands wouldn’t brush this time around, seeing he was one accidental touch away becoming a blushing, stuttering mess (more than he already was, that is). When Aleksi seemed to find his preferred grip, Olli proceeded to teach him some chords, as promised.

“So, ummm,” Olli took a quick breath in and helped Aleksi place his fingers on the strings of the bass. “This is C major.”

Aleksi said nothing when Olli arranged his fingers (his stupid, soft fingers Olli hopelessly wanted to intertwine with his own), which Olli was thankful for, considering how close Aleksi’s mouth was to Olli’s ear as he did so. Aleksi talking to him on a normal day was exciting enough; Olli didn’t even dare think how he’d react if he’d get to hear his voice up so close when he was already having a hard time concentrating on anything as he fumbled with Aleksi’s fingers.

“There you go,” he sighed when he was finally satisfied with their position. “And then you sort of… just… ummm...” 

A teacher’s career would surely not be one for Olli.

“Yeah, what am I supposed to do with this?” Aleksi wriggled his right hand.

“Well, you need to… like…” Having never taught anyone to play bass or any other instrument, Olli was struggling to figure out how he should instruct Aleksi from his current perspective on the ‘wrong’ side of the instrument. Before he would shy clear of it, he stepped to stand behind Aleksi to better help him with the position of his strumming hand.

“Like… this.”

A small smile spread on his lips when he heard Aleksi strum the chord with Olli’s help. 

“Ooh, did you hear how cool that sounded? Come on, show me another!”

“Okay, well,” Olli held his breath as he reached his left hand around Aleksi to help him with his chord fingers again. “This is how you do D minor.”

“Fucking nice,” Aleksi nodded when he heard the new chord, clearly satisfied with the sound. Encouraged by the reaction, Olli showed him a couple more and helped Aleksi to blend them together so that he was playing a little sequence: just a simple tune, but perfect for a beginner. Olli was having so much fun teaching Aleksi about his instrument that it was easy to forget how close they were standing to each other, Olli’s chest mere centimetres from fully pressing against Aleksi’s back.

“This bass has an amazing sound!” Aleksi said when he had finished yet another chord combination. His hand smoothened the shiny surface off the instrument.

“Yeah, I know. I got it for my birthday,” Olli said and, without thinking as his eyes followed Aleksi’s hand on his precious bass guitar, rested his chin on Aleksi’s shoulder.

He could feel Aleksi tense, although he kept fumbling for the chords Olli had taught him, as if Olli hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of possibly his entire life so far. He was almost about to lift his chin and yeet himself to the opposite corner of the room to hang his head in shame, but then Aleksi leaned back against him. It was probably the tiniest movement that was humanly possible to make, yet to Olli it felt as if a whole canyon had been closed between them.

So he kept his head resting on Aleksi’s shoulder and Aleksi kept practising his chords. In that moment, it was more than he had ever dreamed of in his days on earth.

Useless upon noticing Aleksi was doing just fine without Olli helping his fingers in place, Olli set his now somewhat trembling hands on Aleksi’s waist. He wanted desperately to wrap his arms around him, but the (stupid) bass guitar was blocking him from doing so. All he was left to do, thus, was to feel Aleksi’s warmth under his palms and against his chest, now lightly pressed against Aleksi’s upper back.

It felt nice, safe, somehow, to just stand there with Aleksi, in this bubble of music and closeness, with no pressure to do much else.

A sudden silence filled the room when Aleksi stopped strumming on the bass. Time seemed to stop then, despite the classroom clock ticking loudly on the wall as if to remind them everything was temporary, even comfortable little moments like this – or especially them.

Olli’s breaths became short when Aleksi tilted his head. His hair brushed the corner of Olli’s eye. His nose almost grazed Olli’s cheek. His eyelids lowered, making it easy for Olli to guess where his gaze was directed. 

A chink from behind the door startled them both and they stepped away from each other just in time before a cleaner rolled in with a cleaning cart without sparing the two of them a glance or an apology. That was their cue to snap out of whatever they had almost been doing (now they’d never know, Olli supposed) and collect their jackets and other belongings to rush out of the cleaner’s way before they’d get the janitor called after them. 

Once out on the corridor, Aleksi took Olli’s bass off himself and handed it back to Olli to put in its case.

“Thanks for this. You’re a great teacher.”

“I think you're just a fast learner,” Olli returned the compliment. He tried not to smile, as to not appear too… anything, but seeing Aleksi’s lips curving to a grin, Olli couldn’t help himself either.

“Would be cool to do this again sometime. Maybe I can show you something on the drums, if you’d like.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Cool.” 

They smiled at each other in silence for a while, as if afraid to break the spell they were on; as if neither of them were yet ready to step outside, where they would no longer be able to be and act as they did now.

“So, umm… see you tomorrow?” Olli finally forced himself to say.

“Yeah, see ya. Bye.” The last word was accompanied by a brief touch of Aleksi’s hand on Olli’s. Olli wondered if Aleksi knew that small, simple touch would be one of the many events from that day keeping Olli rolling awake in his bed the following night as he'd smile against his pillow, counting the hours ‘til they’d see each other again.

~*~

For the rest of the week, every time Olli walked past the music classroom, he gave its door a longing glance. In his mind he had visited their little musical moment countless times during the past days (and even in his dreams, but that was another story entirely), and he was losing his mind trying to find a way to actually walk up to Aleksi and ask when he’d be free again, not at all sure he’d be able to wait until Monday’s chemistry class for his next chance to talk to him. Even if he had the nerve, he was yet to figure out how to do so without drawing attention from his friends, particularly Joel, who kept slandering Aleksi whenever he saw the boy somewhere; never to his face, though, and Olli thought it was because Joel was perhaps more sad rather than offended about the whole incident between them and was scared his cover might crack and reveal the sensitive boy underneath it if he did confront Aleksi about it.

On Friday, Olli’s eyes were already on the music classroom door on his way to maths class. His plan had been to walk past as quickly as he could, because Tommi was with him and he didn’t need his friend to see him stumble on air as he’d remember Aleksi’s nose nearly brushing his or how warm he had felt against Olli’s chest which was now aching with all the yearning that filled his days. Then, at a critical moment as he was just passing the door, he heard the very voice which had been stuck in his head for days.

Tommi walked on towards the maths classroom, deep in conversation with Santeri, and Olli used the opportunity to stay behind and grant himself a second to drink in that lovely sound; he had somehow managed to go about almost an entire school day without even catching a familiar mop of blond hair disappearing around the corner, so he was desperate for any crumbs feeding his daydreams. 

He stopped behind the cracked door to listen and soon realised Aleksi’s voice wasn’t the only one echoing inside the room. Curiosity got the better of him as he peaked a look, careful not to reveal himself.

His surprise wasn’t great when he recognized two of the guys he often saw hanging out with Aleksi, caught up in an animated narration of something Olli couldn’t quite make out. One of them, Isac, was in Olli’s biology class, loudly and obnoxiously commenting on everything anyone said to make the group of girls around him crack up. The other was sat behind the drumset, and Olli couldn’t for the life of him remember his name. He quickly gave up his efforts to retrieve the guy's name once his eyes found Aleksi.

That very moment, Olli’s heart sank.

There Aleksi was, smiling his bright smile and laughing his intoxicating laugh at something the one behind the drums had said while his fingers kept strumming on a bass guitar. His fingers were working absentmindedly and skillfully without him even needing to look at what he was doing, Olli could easily tell. There was no way he could’ve made such fast progress in just a few days, considering where they had started earlier that week.

Olli felt like such an idiot.

He contemplated skipping the maths class to wallow in self-pity and to bash himself for being so incredibly gullible, an easy target for a bit of jesting. As the laughter from the music classroom roared louder, he decided he wouldn’t let such a sad little jackass get to him or in between him and his studies.

He was above that. He didn’t care.

In fact, he didn’t care so much that during the entire last lesson of the day, Olli hadn’t heard a single thing the teacher had told the class about equations nor seen a single letter on his textbook from the blur in his eyes he kept trying to blink away. He didn’t care so much that once he was home, safe and sound in his bedroom, he spent the next half an hour sulking under his blanket, trying so very hard not to soak it with the stupid, stubborn tears that kept rolling down his cheeks.

~*~

Olli was early to class on Monday. Or maybe Aleksi was late, possibly lounging around somewhere with his friends, making fun of the emo nerd who was so easily fooled into thinking Aleksi supposedly didn’t know how to play bass, for their entertainment. For all Olli cared, Aleksi could very well not show his face in chemistry ever again; at least he’d save Olli from the trouble of having to give him the cold shoulder (which would’ve been Olli’s pleasure, of course).

He didn’t look up when he heard someone apologise to the teacher for missing the first few minutes of the class. He didn’t make a move when the same someone pulled the chair next to him and sat down with a puff leaving his mouth. When the someone turned to talk to him, he found something incredibly interesting to look at on the opposite side of the classroom.

“Oof, made it. Terrible blizzard, eh?”

Olli was not in the mood to chat about the weather. 

He heard Aleksi shrug and flick through his textbook pages. This was followed by almost two entire minutes of silence between them, until Aleksi couldn’t keep his mouth shut for any longer, it seemed. 

“How was your weekend?” he whispered to Olli.

Fucking splendid, he almost replied but pursed his lips instead. Aleksi’s soft voice may still have given Olli the chills, but he wasn’t going to give up the silent treatment that easily, if ever.

However, after spending two days convincing himself that he was not going to bother himself about Aleksi taking him for a fool, it was surprisingly difficult for him to keep ignoring the boy next to him. He was hurt, very much indeed, but part of him already missed the way seeing Aleksi smile at him made him feel. His only choice to keep his cool was to keep his eyes fixed on the notebook in front of him, ready to fill the page with chemical formulas and his mind with anything else that wasn’t Aleksi. 

It seemed today’s lesson was not going to be one for making notes, as the page of his notebook was still blank when Aleksi’s hand appeared to write on it.

What’s up? :\

Even the wonky face was not enough for Olli to open his mouth or even grab his pencil, so he closed the notebook and stared straight ahead of him until the class ended.

~*~

Later that day, Olli was sitting on Joonas’ bed, plucking on his friend’s acoustic guitar while Joonas was spread next to him humming along. They were supposed to help each other revise for the upcoming exam week but hadn't got far, not with Olli’s mood and mind still being a mess after finding out about Aleksi’s unbelievably fast learning abilities and with Joonas’ attention span being that of a 3-month-old puppy’s after a bottle of Coke.

“So your lab partner came up to me today.”

Olli’s finger slipped to the wrong string upon hearing the news. It was too obvious a reaction as it was, so Olli decided he wouldn’t embarrass himself any further by asking why.

“He asked me to ask you why you’re not talking to him.”

Olli pursed his lips and carried on with the tune he had been playing before Joonas had brought up this unfortunate topic.

“So… why aren’t you?”

He couldn’t tell Joonas. How could he possibly, when just thinking about it made his eyes sting?

“Olli?” Joonas sat up and put his hand on Olli’s trembling fingers. “Olli, has something happened?”

Olli wasn’t sure if it was Joonas’ touch that grounded him or whether he had just been holding it all inside him for too long, but hearing his friend’s concern, he could no longer keep his eyes dry from the surge of tears.

“Olli, hey.” Joonas took the guitar out of Olli’s hands and set it on the floor before pulling Olli to his chest. “It’s okay, Olli. What did he do to you?”

It took Olli a minute to calm down his hiccups against Joonas’ hoodie before he could speak. He then told Joonas about what he had seen in the music classroom, how Aleksi and his posse had all probably been laughing at him and his feeble-mindedness and how Joel was right about everything he had said about Aleksi, everything. 

“Oh, Olli…” Joonas started rocking him, and somehow it helped Olli to compose himself, so that when Joonas next spoke, he was breathing normally again, his tears dried on his cheeks and his nose still sniffling quietly.

“Are you sure it’s not just some misunderstanding though? Or maybe you’re just that good at teaching bass?”

“Joonas, I’m not stupid.” Olli said, even though in that moment, seeing Aleksi picking on the bass with no struggle whatsoever, he sure had felt like he was.

“Of course you’re not. Either way, I think you should straighten it out, in case it is a misunderstanding.”

“So that he could take advantage of me again and laugh about me with his friends behind my back? Fuck no, Porko, I’d rather die.”

“Think about it though. And don’t tell him I told you, but he was on the verge of tears as well when he walked up to me today. Not that I pity him, after what he did to Joel. I just… ah, nevermind, I shouldn’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“No, it’s not my place. Forget it.”

“Don’t do that, Joonas! Just say it!”

“You’ll have to promise you won’t punch me if I do.”

It sounded suspicious already, but Olli promised.

“Okay, so, even though the guy’s clearly a jerk and has no sense of loyalty whatsoever, I do think you two would look pretty damn cute tog– ouch! Olli, you promised!”

He had, but he knew Joonas would forgive him for shutting his mouth before it would blurt out such absurdities.

Olli forgiving Aleksi, on the other hand? Not a chance in the world.

~*~

The following day, Joonas approached him after the second lesson of the schoolday with a stern look on his face.

“Let’s go,” he said and grabbed Olli’s hand.

“Where?”

“I’m tired of being Aleksi’s personal messenger, so you’re gonna have to solve this shit yourself.”

“Wha– no! I’m not talking to him! Joonas!” Olli tried to free himself out of Joonas’ grip, but he was strong for such a lanky boy.

“This is not debatable.”

Olli was clueless as to where Joonas was dragging him until they took a left turn towards the arts corridor. They reached the music classroom, where Olli half-expected to find Aleksi waiting for him already, much like the last time Joonas had pulled a stunt like this, but was surprised (and maybe just a tiny bit disappointed) to find it empty.

Then he heard muffled screaming from the storage closet.

“Let me out, you freak! I’ll tell the principal! And my mom! And– and your mom!” Aleksi shouted, the bangs on the door setting the rhythm for his threats.

“What the hell have you done, Joonas?! How did you shut him up in there? I thought only teachers could unlock that closet.”

“I, umm… came into possession of the key. Long story. Anyway! You’re joining him now.” The keys in Joonas’ hands tinkled until he found the right one and unlocked the door to the small room. Before Olli realised what was happening, Joonas was shoving him in, making him crash against Aleksi who was, in turn, trying to get out.

“And I'm NOT letting you out before you’ve settled this like grown... actually, nevermind. Just talk to him, Olli. Tell him what you told me. I’m gonna go have a wee now.”

Olli heard footsteps from the other side of the door receding and then disappearing completely when the classroom door was slammed shut. Then it was awfully quiet; the only sound Olli could hear was Aleksi’s breathing. He himself didn’t even dare do that yet.

“Hi,” Aleksi said. 

“Hi,” Olli replied by instinct.

He didn’t want to look at Aleksi, knowing he would’ve melted under his gaze like a popsicle in a July heatwave. He didn’t want to be the first one to speak either, knowing he would stutter and stumble on his words like a circus clown in his shoes ten sizes too big. He had already made himself vulnerable enough in front of Aleksi, already made a fool of himself by thinking what they had was something special – that he was special to Aleksi. 

“Have I, ummm… have I offended you somehow?” Aleksi asked at last. 

Olli kept his eyes on the floor.

“Because if I have, I wish you could tell me, so that I can–”

“Why did you pretend you can’t play the bass?”

The silence that then followed Olli could have described as dumbfounded, judging by what Aleksi said next.

“Huh?”

“I saw you. Or… heard you. Or… whatever.”

“Saw me where?”

“Right there.” Olli nudged his head to the door. “With your friends. Playing… the bass.”

“Oh,” Aleksi said “Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh. Oh hell… Ahh, fuck!”

From the corner of his eye, Olli saw Aleksi hide his face in his palms, and so Olli could sneak a proper look at him. He quickly averted his gaze the second Aleksi revealed his face again.

“Okay. This is gonna sound stupid and you’re gonna laugh at me.”

“Like you were laughing at me with your friends?”

“I– what?! No! Wait, did you think we were laughing at you?! Oh fuck, this is horrible,” Aleksi groaned into his hands again. “Of course we weren’t laughing at you! I can’t even remember what we were laughing about anymore because my mind was filled with memories of… you. Of us. Here, last week.”

Olli did not believe it, but oh god, how he wanted to.

“Olli, I’m really fucking sorry that I… lead you to believe I don’t know how to play the bass. But I just really wanted to spend some time with you, so fucking much, that I couldn’t bring myself to say no when you said you could teach me how to play. I just said yes without thinking and then I was too embarrassed to tell you the truth and then I was late to our meeting and you looked so cute and you had brought your new bass and you were so nice and patient and–”

While Aleksi babbled on, Olli slowly lifted his gaze again. He saw genuine distress on Aleksi’s face, in the way his eyebrows were angled into a frown and his cheeks flared up in a bright shade of pink. The rims of his eyes were wet, which brought tears to Olli’s own. When their eyes met, Aleksi was the first one to look away.

“Olli, I’ve been an idiot, I know. I’m sorry.” Aleksi sniffed. “If you don’t want to speak to me again, I… I get it. I just hope you know I would never make fun of you or purposefully hurt you. Never ever.”

Could it be true? It would be so sweet if it was. 

“So… what other instruments do you play?” 

When Aleksi looked up at him, there was already a hint of a smile on Olli’s lips.

“Well, ummm, the drums, as you know already. A bit of guitar. A bit of piano. Terrible at it though.”

“A multitalent, huh.” Olli lowered his eyes once more, afraid he’d give in too easily if the let Aleksi hold his gaze for too long.

“Wouldn’t put it like that.”

A pending smile was tugging on Aleksi's lips. They seemed keen on having Olli's own follow suit.

“I, uhh… just so you know, I really wanted to spend time with you too.” Olli inhaled and exhaled in hopes it would calm down his racing heart (it didn’t). “Still do. If you’d like.”

“I do! So much.”

Aleksi's hand stirred towards Olli's across the small space between them. Olli found himself disappointed when the hand seemed to change its mind halfway.

“How much?” Olli asked, his words terribly more bolder than he felt, somehow. When Aleksi stepped closer to him, all he could do was stand still, very still, as Aleksi finally took his hand.

“This much,” Aleksi said and gave Olli’s hand a squeeze. 

"How much?"

“This much,” Aleksi said and rested his forehead against Olli’s.

Olli was about to burst into flames from how much his cheeks were heating up.

“How much?” he asked one last time, despite his lungs barely finding enough air to breath or speak.

He felt Aleksi’s sigh on his lips before he heard his reply.

“This much,” Aleksi said and touched Olli’s lips with his own.

It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it made Olli feel weak at his knees and his ankles and his head and everywhere. It wasn’t a kiss, but it could’ve been, if it wasn’t for Joonas storming back in the classroom. 

“Okay, abort mission, guys, I totally forgot the choir practice starts here at eleven on Mondays, you need to get outta there, I can’t let Anna-Maija know I have this key!”

“Not yet!” Aleksi yelled at Joonas through the door. The rattle of Joonas’ keys stopped at this command, and Olli was about to ask Aleksi what on earth he thought he was doing but was never given the chance.

He had hardly even opened his mouth when he felt Aleksi’s mouth on his.

[itsevanffs]

Hihi!! I've been hyperfixating on tommary lately and I absolutely loved (In the dark!)! I wanted to see if u have any tommary/harrymort fics that u recommend.. preferably ones that feature a possessive Tom ^^ ty in advance

I guess this would be the right time to publicly declare my bookmarks as open? Everything on there is a hard rec, and I vigorously quality-check those... for my liking and my liking only. (Sorry, not sorry. They're there for me, after all.)

That being said, hmm. I've got a few you might like.

Below the cut: more (additionally to my bookmarks) Tomarrymort (Tomarry or Harrymort) recommendations with possessive/obsessive Tom in alphabetical order; NOT order of how much I enjoy them. I'd argue I enjoy them all equally, just in different ways.

Ps: thank you! I'm incredibly flattered you liked my work :D

and don't let the police know anything by littlecupkate https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920947

Ted Dirlod is dangerous, Harry Potter knows this for a fact, but the man was still his only hope at escaping a doomed fate. It is never wise to blackmail a crime lord. It is even more unwise(?) when said crime lord is obsessed with you. An expanded version of "praying to whatever's in heaven, please send me a felon"

Genuinely lovely? Ticks all my boxes, at least, and minimal angst, which is always a plus. That being said, you should probably read the work mentioned in the summary as well for context. But hey. Two cakes by one person ;) Can never go wrong, can it?

As Certain Dark Things Are to be Loved by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015619

Tom was Harry's best friend growing up and his first love. At eight, Harry gave Tom his first kiss before moving away. As a freshman in college, the name of the RA on the door across the hall is terribly familiar.

Also absolutely deliciously indulgent. Tom is a possessive terror and Harry loves him for it. Need I say more?

Harry Potter and the Search for Ancient Magic (series) by Snickerdoodlepop https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133141

Once Voldemort realizes that Harry Potter is his horcrux, his plans change drastically. So does Draco Malfoy's assignment for the school year. Harry's sixth year starts going very differently. Snape is on a mission. Harry needs to learn pureblood politics. Draco Malfoy is trying to convince Harry to forgive him. Voldemort finds himself visiting Harry Potter in his dreams. Everyone is realizing that no one is quite what they thought. And through it all, there's a mystery. What is Ancient Magic? Can Harry use it to save himself or will it pull him toward the dark side?

Honestly, genuinely, hands down the best fucking tomarrymort series I've ever read. Hard, hard rec from here. The first work is completed and the second is in progress, so it's a nice pile of words to chew through!

can't commit to anything but a crime by caelesti https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286483

Excitement is the word he does not dare utter, even in the privacy of his own mind. It’s wrong, he knows. These women are people, in their own right; people with fears and aspirations, with friends and families and dreams, and to have anything cut those lives short is nothing but tragic. To have anyone cut those lives short is nothing but condemnable. He doesn’t have James Potter’s laugh lines, but he does have his father’s innate flair for danger. He doesn’t have Lily Potter’s enthusiasm, but he does have her insatiable curiosity. (In every world, Harry will excel at finding the biggest spot of trouble available and sticking his nose in it.)

Hot serial killer serial killer hot. That's it, those are the thoughts. Please read.

Dripping Fingers by May_May_0_0 https://archiveofourown.org/works/25440826

When Harry finds Tom Riddle's diary he does not write 'Hello.' He does not write anything at all. He draws. Tom Riddle falls in love with the artwork. _________________ Sketch by sketch, drawing by drawing, the ink Harry pours into the diary manifests as creations in Tom's monochrome world.

Okay so if I'm the reincarnation of Shakespeare, May_May_0_0 is fucking... Ted Hughes. Which doesn't say much to your average viewer but that man wrote my favourite poem ever (the one I based my war fic off) and I hold him in very high regard. This story? It is poetry in its rawest form. Pure, condensed beauty. If you decide to read only one of the fics in this list, please choose this one.

Either must die at the hand of the other by Metalomagnetic https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356095

Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts because Harry Potter had not been the one to kill him, as the prophecy demands.

When is Metalomagnetic not a master of words? When will I cease becoming breathless at every paragraph, at every cleverly twisted word that comes back and reveals itself so beautifully later?

Fine Line by galaxiesundone https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949952

Magic always leaves traces. The lingering darkness of Sectumsempra, combined with Harry’s nature as a horcrux, awakens the soul piece contained within Ravenclaw’s diadem. At twenty years old, Tom Riddle walks a fine line between man and monster, the devil and the light-bringer in one. His influence forces Harry to face an ancient enemy unlike anything he has faced before: temptation.

Long story short: Tom Riddle is Hot and Good At Being Hot and Harry truly doesn't stand a chance and I am here for it. Lord help me I love this fic to pieces.

Good Intentions by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035334

Five year old Harry Potter meets and befriends a seventeen year old Tom Riddle while hanging out at his dad’s station. James Potter decides to take Tom under his wing, using Tom’s connection with Harry to try and keep the teen grounded, even as he begins to investigate the Death Eaters, a dangerous organized crime group and their mysterious leader only known as Lord Voldemort.

The sheer potential of this fic. The horrible, terrible dread of future events that have yet to be revealed. I will cry.

Honey, Smoke, Shiver by machiavelli https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068062

Harry - Omega, only son of Lord Potter - is nothing more than a useful playing card in a political game of power and money, one that is bought by the famed Tom Riddle: powerful, dangerous, pureblood Alpha. Unsurprisingly, Harry loves being underestimated.

Machiavelli is always a rec from me. Sorry lads but that's the way it is. Never a moment where I won't recommend their stuff.

Sickly-Sweet Obsession by maquira https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259103

Quiet, studious Tom Riddle spends his first year thirsting after an older student—Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain, Harry Potter. His crush is common knowledge, and even Harry finds it cute… at first. Possessiveness spawns monstrosities. Tom does all within his power to mess with Harry’s dating life. And one seemingly harmless crush spirals into something darker, begetting deadly consequences.

Again; the potential. Delicious. This will bloom into something beautifully twisted, I'm sure of it.

Stars, Hide Your Fires by Audair https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745546

Riddle’s undivided attention snapped to him with the swiftness of shattering glass. His turbulent magic receded from where it had besieged the shop. "You,” he breathed. Coiling in leisurely motions, the eager tendrils of his magic reached for Harry, swathing about his limbs and neck and chest with a liquid, flowing fascination. "I’ve been looking for you,” Riddle continued, tilting his head to the side and sweeping his gaze over Harry. It was an appraisal that felt simultaneously like the raking of iron nails and the tender drapery of silk. It was so familiar, and yet… so foreign. In the winding streets of Knockturn Alley, an intricate dance of mutual obsession unravels between twenty-three-year-old Tom Riddle and a time-travelling Harry Potter.

This work has recently been undergoing a rewrite, and I can tell you with certainty it's only gotten better for it. It's beautiful; the setting, the atmosphere, the vibes... Perfection. Captures Knockturn Alley's mood impeccably and does not disappoint a single moment.

the pleasure, the privilege by asterisms https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227528

It begins with Vernon Dursley's body, dead across the table. In which Voldemort is dosed with amortentia, and nothing is better for it.

Completed, terrifying... and gorgeous.

The Shrike (to your sharp and glorious thorn) by PaperWorlds https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380079

Shrike: A songbird with a sharply hooked bill, known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling their bodies on thorns, the spikes on barbed-wire fences, or any available sharp point. A young Harry Potter survives an attack by notorious serial killer Voldemort. Over a decade later, they meet again.

Lads I'm so desperate for an update from this fic that I might cry if I think about it for too long. I keep saying it and I'll say it again; this is one of those fics with amazing potential that are sure to never disappoint no matter what path they take. An incredibly hard rec.

To Raise a Servant by bluegrass https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780816

Tom had found the boy amidst pouring rain. He figured he'd always wanted a pet snake.

Surprisingly not quite as dark as the summary makes it seem? I certainly enjoyed it, though, and that's why it's on this list.

What He Grows To Be by Severus_divides_into_H https://archiveofourown.org/works/19042240

Tom Riddle is a frightening coil of darkness, cruelty, and greatness, and changing him is Harry’s only hope for saving people he loves. Going back in time, he takes Tom from the orphanage, but his optimism shatters with every year they spend together. Tom still longs for darkness. Tom stifles him in his possessiveness. Tom is fixated on him to the point of destroying the world just to keep him. But Harry loves him. And the future changes.

Beautiful. And absolutely terrifying. I've started crying mid-scene at least three times for this fic, and it honestly seems unfathomable if you haven't read it if you're on my profile, since I think this is one of the fics that have shaped my style and ambitions. It is what I aspire to be.

[jae-yoonie]

So your bio said requests open so imma request. Can you do a fluffy first time with Mark where obvsiously the readers virgin skin breaks and bleeds a little and Mark is like panicking like omg i killed her i hurt her and so on but the reader explains to him that like it is all normal and that she wont die.

Cherry Sweet (M)

Pairing: Mark x Reader

Genre: Fluffy Smut

Word Count: 2230

“This movie sucks,” you groaned as you let your head plop onto your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I thought it’d be good,” Mark replied defensively, “The ratings were high.”

“It’s not your fault, I’m just disappointed,” you pouted.

“Did you wanna do something else?” he suggested since it was unlikely that you were gonna sit through the rest of the movie.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit and cuddle,” you replied as you snuggled into his chest.

“Okay, I like that idea,” he hummed as he pulled you close and rested his head on top of yours.

You enjoyed having these pure, wholesome moments with Mark and found the sound of his heartbeat rather calming, but for some reason, whenever you guys were physical for long periods of time, your mind would always end up drifting to dirty thoughts. The two of you had been sexual before, but a lot of the time, you tried to control yourself so you wouldn’t give him the wrong idea; you loved him more than words could express and it wasn’t just for sexual gratification.

You hadn’t gone all the way with him yet, but you couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed your mind more times than once. Since Mark never really mentioned much about sex to you other than making dirty jokes, it was hard for you to bring the topic up to him. He was a boy, but no matter how hard you thought about it, you just couldn’t convince yourself that he thought about it as much as you did.

“Mark...” you mumbled nervously, finally growing desperate enough to attempt having a conversation about the topic with him.

“Yes?”

“Um… have you ever thought about… it?”

“About what?”

“Y’know… ‘it’…” You could feel your stomach folding into knots as you thought about what you should say next. You didn’t want to say it out right, but at the same time maybe it wasn’t a good idea to assume he’d know what ‘it’ meant.

“It?” he asked again, urging you to sit up before throwing you a concerned look, “What do you mean? If there’s something bothering you, tell me.”

“Er… well…” you started, breaking eye contact with him, “It’s just… uh…”

“Is it bad? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No! Not at all! It’s… ugh…” Out of frustration, you cupped your face in your hands and tried to calm yourself down so that you could start over and try again.

“Hey…” Mark said worriedly as he pulled you in for a hug, “I didn’t mean to upset you, sorry… you can tell me when you’re ready to.”

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you briefly looked back up at him before pressing your lips against his. You came to the decision that asking him verbally was too difficult, at least in that context, so you would ask him through actions instead. It’d been a while since the last time you’d done anything sexual with him so you felt it’d be okay to let things escalate a little bit today.

As you continued to move your lips against his, one of your hands found its way down to his stomach, slowly drifting lower and lower down his body. Before you knew it, your fingers slid right over the waistband of his sweats and landed right on his crotch, the feeling of his already hardening member under your palm making your core ache with desire.

He let a moan slip into your mouth as you started to stroke him over the thin material of his pants, his hand going to your waist and pulling you closer to him before he broke the kiss, letting his head fall back against the back of the couch.

“Is this the ‘it’ you were talking about earlier?” he asked breathily, as you continued to palm at his erection.

“Um well… possibly…” you trailed off, the movement in your hand starting to cease as you lost confidence amidst the topic that Mark had suddenly resurfaced.

“Are you scared to talk about ‘it’?”

“Maybe a little…”

“Why? It’s normal for couples to talk about these kinds of things. So what was it you were trying to ask me?”

“Um… okay,” you started, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Have you ever thought about… having sex with me?”

“Are you kidding me?” Mark laughed in disbelief, “Of course I have! All the time! What kind of boyfriend doesn’t think about that?”

“I don’t know… you never mentioned it before…”

“Well, I didn’t wanna be the one to initiate it or pressure you into it, so I figured it’d be safer to wait until you told me you were ready.”

Suddenly, you felt embarrassed that you were so worried over something so dumb, but at the same time you were relieved. You were thankful to have such a loving and considerate boyfriend who’s been patiently waiting for the ‘okay’ from you, but now you kind of regret waiting so long to bring up the topic. Communication is important in a relationship and you shouldn’t have been so scared to express how you felt.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before speaking with a new burst of confidence, “I’ve been ready.”

Mark only smirked in response, carefully laying you down on the couch before getting your permission to remove shorts and panties. He was gentle as he removed each article of clothing, and once he had full access, his thumb went straight to your clit, skillfully rubbing over the sensitive bulb how he knew you liked it. “You’re so wet already,” He gawked as his other fingers wandered down to your wet folds and teased your entrance.

“I’m always wet for you,” you muttered before taking your lower lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as Mark slipped a finger into you and curled it up against your g-spot. Occasionally between curls, he pumped his finger in and out of your slick lips and when you least expected it, during one of those moments he surprised you by sneaking in an extra finger. “Mark!” you moaned out, toes curling and fists clenching at the newly intensified sensation.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to handle the real thing? I’m only using two fingers right now,” he teased before leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead.

“S-shut up! I— can—” You struggled to make out between breaths, “It f-feels— good—”

With the combined feeling of his two fingers thrusting into you, stimulating your g-spot and his thumb continuing to toy with your clit, it wasn’t long before he had you shaking beneath him as you tried your best to fight back your oncoming orgasm.

“Cum for me,” Mark whispered as his fingers continued to work wonders between your legs.

The sheer sound of his raspy voice resonating in your ear was enough to push you over the edge, pleasure erupting throughout your body as you hit your first climax of the night. When you finally opened your eyes, Mark had quite a pleased look on his face as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and briefs, pulling them both down in one go. Your mouth watered seeing his erection spring free, the tip already glistening with his essence. He gave himself a couple pumps before positioning himself to your entrance, nervousness etched into his features as he looked up at you for approval before proceeding.

“Wait,” you interrupted as you reached down to grab his cock, gently urging him to scoot closer to you, “It’s my first time y’know… a little extra lube might be a good idea.” With that, you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you slid your lips down his length.

“Fuck,” he cursed at your unexpected advance, “Don’t make me cum before we even start though.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, unintentionally adding to the sensation you were already giving him and forcing a throaty moan out of him. He only let you continue for a little longer before he withdrew himself from you, repositioning himself to your entrance again.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, reaffirming that you meant what you said earlier about wanting to go all the way.

“I’m sure,” you replied confidently, giving him a small grin for extra assurance.

“Have you been taking your pills regularly?”

“Yes, I have!” you chuckled, “Are you stalling? Don’t tell me you’re more nervous than me.”

“Of course I’m nervous! I wanna make this a good experience for both of us… it’s a lot of pressure…”

“Don’t think about it too much. If you’re too stressed you won’t be able to enjoy it as much” you cupped his face in his hand as you spoke, “I’m nervous too, but we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

He gave a small nod in response, taking a deep breath before slowly trying to ease himself into you. “Oh my god, you’re... so tight… A-are you okay?” he asked, noticing that you were wincing a little.

“Mhm…” you nodded quickly, “It just hurts a little… but it’s normal...”

“Okay… just… tell me to stop if it hurts a lot okay?”

You nodded again, smiling lovingly as you looked up at him through half lidded eyes. The moment you’d been fantasizing about for so long was finally happening and you couldn’t be happier. You knew it’d be a little bit of a bumpy ride given both of your lack of sexual experience, but the fact that it was with the person who meant the world to you and understood you more than anyone else was what made the experience so perfect.

“Oh my god,” Mark gasped, quickly snapping you out of your thoughts, “Y-you’re bleeding…” When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide and he was completely frozen, like a deer in headlights. “What do I do? Oh my god… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I was just—”

“Keep going,” you interrupted him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “We agreed that I’d tell you to stop if it hurts a lot… and I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“B-but… you’re bleeding?!”

“And it only hurt a little! It’s normal, don’t worry about it. I promise I’ll tell you if something doesn’t feel right.”

“You sure? This just seems so—”

“I’m sure! You’re doing a great job so far, Mark, stop worrying so much, okay?” You felt the tension in his body dissipate once you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, your chaste gesture finally convincing him that you were really okay. After what felt like forever, he continued to cautiously guide his full length into you before slightly retracting and snapping his hips again.

“You feel… amazing, by the way,” he puffed as he continued to meticulously control each of his movements.

“So do you… but go faster,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist for increased proximity.

“I’ll cum if I go faster,” he smiled at you playfully.

“Shut up,” you giggled, lightly slapping him on the shoulder.

Soon after, he complied, his pace gradually starting to pick up filling the empty living room with the sounds or raw sex, the coarse moans falling from both of your lips muffled by bare skin slapping against skin. “Y’know…” Mark started, his voice shaky as he tried to speak between pants, “I was only half joking earlier.”

“Ah— it’s okay, I- I’m close too,” you struggled to speak over how good he was making you feel. Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe something else, but you didn’t even realize when the initial pain you’d felt had gone away; you just felt like you were on cloud nine and your whole body was buzzing with anticipation as your peak quickly neared.

As Mark chased his own high, he didn’t dare let down the quick and consistent tempo he managed to maintain up until that point, especially knowing how close you were to cumming. In no more than a minute and a handful of thrusts later, a second and more intense explosion of bliss filled your body making your back arch off the couch and toes curl as you uncontrollably fisted at the back of Mark’s shirt.

The feeling of your walls pulsating around him brought him to his climax shortly after you, leading him to quickly pull out and lift up your shirt just enough for him to release his hot seed onto your stomach. He hung his head as he hovered above you, taking a moment to catch his breath before reaching for some tissues to clean up the mess he’d made.

“Why didn’t you cum inside of me?” you asked wearily as you watched him gently wipe up the last of the sticky substance.

“I was too scared to risk it,” he admitted, tossing the used tissues into the nearest trash can, “Especially for our first time.”

“You’re lame,” you mumbled jokingly.

“That’s what you say after I make you cum twice?” he scoffed as he squished himself onto the couch to lay down next to you.

“Thank you for always being so considerate of me,” you mumbled as you snuggled into him, “I love you.”

“Of course, I only want the best for the best girlfriend in the world. I love you more.”

[yan-twst]

hey, hey! Thank you for opening the inbox! may i request a yan!jamil work (mini fic or scenario or whatever you find easier to write) with a disobedient!gn!reader? aaaa thank you so much. i've been stalking your blog for a while, and i have to say i like your yandere alphabet prompts! i think they are so in character!

a/n: aaah thank you sm anon! one of my biggest fears is that in the turning a character into yan i accidentally remove elements of their personality, so it’s very reassuring to hear that you find them to be in-character 

warnings: general yandere content, like super vague mentions of disordered eating

pairing: jamil / gn!darling

word count: 1,425

patience

It was starting to wear on him, it really was. Jamil’s patience was near unmatched from years of having to trail behind Kalim and pretend to be inferior, of years spent as a servant following his master’s whims, and yet he found himself growing impatient at how utterly disobedient his darling was being. Perhaps his newfound freedom had made him grow this way, or maybe it was just the fact he finally found himself being the one in power, for once being the impatient lord instead of the lowly servant.

Either way, he couldn’t deny that while he was disappointed at how insistent his darling seemed to be to desperately try to show useless defiance, there was also something so utterly delicious about watching them try to defy him, knowing full well that there’s nothing they could truly do. Oh, don’t get him wrong, it did grate on his nerves, when they tried to physically harm him whenever he tried to hug or kiss them, whenever they tossed or refused to eat the meals he so carefully prepared, any of those ungrateful actions of rebellion were nothing short of annoying. But there was so much enjoyment out of getting to see them regret their actions- the sheer regret in their eyes when they realized he’d be shortening their chains for trying to attack him, or when he simply let them go hungry if they refused a meal was proof that they couldn’t go on like this for longer.

“Are you seriously trying to break the chains again?” Jamil’s voice sounded exasperated, but in an almost too casual sense. It was the same tone one would use when chastising a pet for stepping on a table, or the very exact tone he’d use to lecture Kalim when the albino asked him for help with his studies. And yet they flinched, instinctively trying to hide away the small nail file they’d been futilely trying to use against the thick metal chains binding their ankle. He leaned down and undid the makeshift gag he kept in their mouth while he was out- the last thing he needed was them screaming and making a ruckus, as he was sure they’d do. “Where did you even find that? Did you dig through my drawers?”

“... None of your business.” the way they shrunk back against the wall as he approached just served to make their shaky words appear more meek, combined with the hoarseness in their voice from being gagged all day. Jamil narrowed his eyes, and with a swift move, tightly took hold of one of their wrists, revealing the little nail file they’d just tried to hide. He sighed, shaking his head.

“You aren’t so stupid as to think this could seriously break you out, are you?” his grip on their wrist was strong, enough so to cause pain, and their pursed lips and eyes were enough proof they were doing their best to keep from making any pained noise. Right as they thought they’d hear a sickening ‘pop’ from the bones in their wrist, Jamil let go, the nail file dropping at the sudden release of their hand. There was no point in retrieving it now, they figured, as they instead opted to try and rub their wrist with their other hand, trying to relieve some of the pain. Jamil sighed again. “And what’s this about what you do not being any of my business? This is my room, did you forget? And moreover, anything you do is my business. Or have you forgotten who’s the one who feeds you and keeps you safe, too?”

“I’m not here because I want to- you’re fucking sick, what the hell is wrong with you-” before they could even raise their voice, Jamil had already grasped the front of their shirt and pulled them close, nearly making them fall on their face if he hadn’t been clutching the fabric so strongly. By instinct, they looked right into his eyes- they knew better than that by now, knew how dangerous it was to stare Jamil in the eyes- but thankfully, he didn’t use his unique magic.

“Don’t be so loud, this is a dorm.” he hissed, eyes narrowed. His whole mood seemed to have soured at their words; it wasn’t as if he didn’t know they didn’t want to be here, but wasn’t it entirely their fault they were suffering so much? If they simply agreed to be grateful; to accept the warm food, to accept the attention and affection, the safety Jamil offered... Perhaps they wouldn’t have to be chained down, not gagged while he went out, if only they didn’t insist on being so resistant and ungrateful. “Apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing, you freak-!”

“You can apologize out of your own will,” Jamil’s sharp voice and the tightening of his grip on their shirt almost made them bite their tongue as the words died down in their mouth, the vice dorm leader’s eyes giving off a certain sadistic glint that made his anger all the more terrifying. “... or I can hypnotize you and make you apologize exactly how I want you to. Don’t try to close your eyes now, or it’s just going to be worse on you. Your choice.”

They audibly swallowed, a cold sweat trickling down their back. As much as they’d have loved to spit in his face and refuse, the threat of his unique magic weighed heavily in their mind- there was, perhaps, nothing scarier than to be completely under his control. That was how they’d gotten into this mess. It wouldn’t be the first time he used his unique magic on them due to their behaviour, and every single time, it was terrifying. They had no memory of anything that happened while under that state, no knowledge of what he made them do- to think that he could so easily make them do anything he pleased and they wouldn’t even know was scary enough to make them nauseous.

“I’m...” the words felt like sandpaper in their throat. They weren’t sorry. Of course they weren’t- they were a fucking kidnapping victim, their captor forcing his affections and twisted fantasies of being worshipped and obeyed onto them. They wanted to fight on, to keep struggling, but deep down, they knew Jamil was winning. The way his stern commands were enough to make them flinch and almost obey out of instinct even without hypnosis numbing their mind was proof enough- the fact they were apologizing now was proof, too. “... I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Be specific.” Jamil smirked slightly, his eyes still digging right into theirs. Ready to activate his unique magic at any moment- a loaded gun’s barrel staring them right down, a threat as to what would happen if they didn’t put on a convincing enough performance. More disturbing was the way he wasn’t even trying to hide how much he was enjoying the situation, enjoying the way panic seemed to almost radiate off his darling, as he brought up his free hand to gently stroke their lower lip.

“... for rummaging through your drawers.” they said, idly wondering when they’d stopped feeling the urge to lunge forward and bite Jamil’s thumb when he did this. When had that primal, violent instinct morphed into just hoping he wouldn’t do worse? Still, as they tried to distract themselves by thinking of that, Jamil didn’t seem sated with their response. Of course the apology wasn’t enough as is. “And for... trying to run away.”

“A pitiful apology, but I’ll take it. I’m feeling rather generous today.” he said. Truly, he didn’t sound entirely happy, but at the same time, the smugness in his voice was clear enough of a clue that he’d enjoyed the fear in his darling’s eyes more than he should have. Wordlessly, he leaned forward- his lips pressed into theirs, one of his hands still holding onto their shirt to prevent them from moving. They didn’t kiss back, instead just screwing their eyes shut and tightening their fists hard enough to nearly draw blood from their palms. That was the most resistance they could offer, the only little act of rebellion they could take comfort in without incurring what would certainly be a punishment that would without a doubt be Jamil using his unique magic to make them do much worse things. 

With their eyes shut, they couldn’t see the way Jamil smirked into the kiss- slowly but surely, they’d break. Perhaps he did have the patience to see it through, after all.

[doorsclosingslowly]

No-one will ever call this bluff

When Obi-Wan and Ventress fight Maul and his apprentice on Raydonia, a crate breaks open. Inside: an airborne poison. 6.6k | TCW Episode 4.22 Revenge AU | warning for serious illness

“Down!” Ventress shouts. “Down, Kenobi!”

Blindly, Obi-Wan throws himself to the floor and only then he rolls and risks a glance over his shoulder. The miss was far too near. Obi-Wan’s unexpected ally intervened just in time: the lumbering Sith almost managed to drive his lightsaber into his back. In the crate a foot’s width behind Obi-Wan there is a smoking hole at chest-height that could have spelled his doom, but now, with wide swings of her ‘saber, Ventress forces Savage Opress away and towards another one of the myriad crates stacked here in this nondescript cargo hold that Obi-Wan woke up, in after Maul and his new accessory Opress beat him up.

Her next swing connects, though unfortunately the small flesh wound in the Sith’s dominant left arm won’t disable him. It just spews out strange green miasma, even though the cut should have been cauterized. The following strike cleaves a massive hole into a durasteel crate, because Opress apparently learned how to duck just in time. Whoever packed this freighter was not beholden to Republic safety standards, it seems, because the whole crate, besides being completely unsecured to the wall, is just stuffed full of some fine white powder that now plumes out, dusting the crouching Sith all over with its fine particles.

A warning in the force, just in time again, and Obi-Wan jumps up and parries Darth Maul’s attack with Ventress’ second lightsaber.

Maul does not press his advantage. He throws a curt glance in the direction of his apprentice, disapproving and disappointed. Obi-Wan almost hopes for Ventress’ cry of victory, but then the flurry of movement at the edge of Obi-Wan’s field of vision reveals that the massive zabrak must have regained his footing and is locked in his battle with Asajj Ventress once more.

It’s their distinct advantage, Obi-Wan realizes: he and Asajj have fought side-by-side in their weird alliance before, but for all that Opress appears to be beholden to his fellow zabrak, they do not seem to fight together. Opress kicked Obi-Wan around at Darth Maul’s direction—strange, too, that he would eschew the force for fists—but they’re not fighting as one. Just next to each other. Unless Maul gives the other zabrak direct orders, and even then, they are less than a seasoned team. A few weeks ago, Opress was still Dooku’s lackey, and back then he was just as lousy of a team player. He does not seem to have improved just because his new Master shares his species. We’re outmatched, Obi-Wan just told Ventress, but perhaps…

Perhaps…

Obi-Wan does not want to flee. He came here to Raydonia—at least presumably that’s where they still are, he hasn’t heard any tattletale vibration of engines—he came to this obvious trap at the behest of a long-buried monster, but also: for a mountain of corpses. He saw them in the holo, and before Savage beat him up and dragged him in here, he smelt them. He’s had a regrettably thorough acquaintance with the stench of burning flesh since becoming a frontline General of the GAR, but still, he fancies the Raydonia massacre even more horrendous, more pungent, for what it represents. Civilians, children, monstrously slaughtered, and for what reason? Simply as the holo message to the temple said: to draw him out?

He does not want to flee—he came here alone despite all the signs that that’s what his enemy expected—because this is Darth Maul. The unfinished business he thought done and dusted years ago. The death that merited his promotion to Master. The murderer of the halcyon Jedi Master, his beloved teacher Qui-Gon; the harbinger of the end of eons of Jedi supremacy over the Sith; the enemy that Obi-Wan cut apart. Quickly he was distracted away from his nightmares back then because he needed to keep up with his new whirlwind padawan, but there was one moment he could not forget. Sai tok. Bisection. That confused painful grimace. The sheer brutality that Obi-Wan used to dispatch his assailant on Naboo seared itself into his mind, never mind that it was rightly deserved then and a few hours ago proved to be far better than Maul deserves… Never mind that the monster somehow survived his mutilation…

He does not want to flee. Darth Maul murdered these people to draw out Obi-Wan. If he escapes, there’s every reason to believe he’ll do it again.

Besides, Obi-Wan was but a padawan when he bested Maul. In the intervening decade he has taught, studied, followed the force. He has led the GAR into battle. He can turn this fight to his advantage, especially with Ventress by his side; regardless of Maul’s acquisition of Dooku’s castoff acolyte he can now do it right and aim for the neck. They just need to be smarter about it. One against one is fine, but if they take out the weak link together and then focus their combined might on Maul… It’s worth a try.

So Obi-Wan strikes at Opress whenever he gets in range, and he tries to get in range as often as possible.

Savage Opress, rudely, seems exclusively preoccupied by Ventress; even when Obi-Wan manages to wound his other shoulder he quickly focuses all his attention, his growls, his attacks back onto her. The two have a history, though: and not just under Dooku, it seems from Opress’ growl in the beginning. A Dathomir witch—she betrayed me, he said. Whatever that means. He apparently can’t let go enough of his past to realize that in this fight, Obi-Wan is at least as deadly a foe. Despite this fact or maybe because of it, it doesn’t take long before the gargantuan Sith starts faltering. His attacks miss by wider margins; his feet barely find stable ground. Once, when Obi-Wan comes close, he can see the sweat beading on the zabrak’s brow, the feverish tinge to his yellow skin. He’s fighting for breath. Maul, meanwhile, doesn’t seem at all aware of the predicament his apprentice is in. Maybe Obi-Wan’s attacks, designed to make him dodge as far back as possible, have managed to distract him, or maybe he just doesn’t care.

Ventress, however, throws him an amused smirk. She’s moving in a perfect complement, pincer-like, subtly helping cage in the lesser Sith towards the cockpit of the ship.

Slash, stab, slash, and then—

Opress trips. He trips, or it’s the coughing fit that suddenly wracks his massive frame—whatever the cause, he tumbles to the floor, barely keeping hold of his ignited double ‘saber. Barely keeping hold and barely not cutting himself up with the still-burning energy blades, missing his own arm by a hair’s breadth when he tries to shield his chest with his hands out of some strange useless instinct and then he hits the ground, back-first and uncushioned. The access pad of the cockpit blinks red just meters to the right of him, and his face answers, flushed unhealthily pink and sweat-slick.

“Gotcha.” Ventress raises her ‘saber—

A sudden whirlwind of naked tattoos and metal chicken legs, Maul parries her.

The sound is so quiet behind the whirr of the lightsabers that Obi-Wan almost thinks he hallucinated it, but why would he? No, that sounded like Opress, and it sounded like… “Didn’t let him free. Not allowed to take two mates. Not him too.” Gibberish, and he has no time to decipher it, curious as he may be as to the fatuous Sith’s motivations.

Darth Maul sets his hand down on Opress’ head to steady himself—Ventress’ strike must have been strong enough to unbalance him, or he chose the wrong footing in his rush—and then he wipes it against his own head: leaving a stripe of white powdered residue. He raises his lightsaber. He grins. “Two against one. That brings back some memories, does it not, Kenobi?”

“This time when I dismember you, I’ll remember you’re a cockroach,” Obi-Wan replies.

A dismissive shrug is all he receives in answer. “Feel free to join me when you’ve finished your midday nap, apprentice,” Maul throws over his shoulder, and then he starts feinting and stabbing tirelessly until both Ventress and Obi-Wan have retreated several tens of meters back across the cargo hold. He’s as acrobatic and cocksure as he was on Naboo back then, guarding the whole width of the cargo hold against both of them. Guarding. Yes, that is the word, Obi-Wan suddenly realizes. Flashy as they may be, his strikes are defensive in nature: designed to keep them occupied and retreating, but barring a gross mistake none would be the kind to wound. And yet, Darth Maul lured Obi-Wan here, presumably to murder him. You will suffer as I have suffered was the threat if he recalls correctly. This is not suffering. He’s abandoned his original aims, then. Opress’ sudden dizzy spell seems to have unsettled Maul.

Maul is far more hardy than his apprentice was, but even he has his limits—after what feels like an hour of Maul jabbing and both of them dodging, and Opress’ pleas to various family members (mother, brother, sister, brother again), his face is shining with sweat just as Savage Opress is, though with his red coloring there’s no way to see the red tinge that is probably present as well. Barely, he dances out of the way of Ventress’ strike before trying to drive her back again. It shouldn’t give Obi-Wan any pleasure to realize this—and it doesn’t—but the defeat on Naboo seems to have robbed Maul of much of his grace, his skill, even though it has only made him more bloodthirsty.

He won’t be able to wage this battle forever. Obi-Wan rejoices in his instincts, and in the force, that told him not to flee: even if Maul decides to give up on this battle now and manages to escape, his brutish companion hasn’t moved from his spot except to jab listlessly at the imaginary girlfriend he’s been whimpering to. He’ll be easy prey. Maul is the diseased brain, and taking him out would benefit the galaxy far more—but in a pinch Obi-Wan will settle for his new stooge.

He’ll—

The thin hairs on Obi-Wan’s arms raise with electric static, and then thunder shakes the cargo hold. The walls bob and drop like those of a capsule on a water planet in storm; more crates drop, releasing their miscellaneous contents, spreading mealpacks and hydrosacks and another burst of white powder and holopads and sundry more items all over the floor; and Ventress grabs Obi-Wan’s shoulder to steady both herself and him. Maul has no such luck, no such compatriot, and he keels over sideways.

There’s no breach on the hull of the cargo hold, at least, as far as Obi-Wan can make out. It sounded like a small laser cannon, the blast, but though it definitely hit—and who knew the impact in a landed ship would feel like this—it wasn’t strong enough to penetrate, or the ship’s defenses haven’t yet given out. That will probably change with a few more blasts, if whoever attacked them keeps up their assault. They’ve got another problem.

Ventress strides over to the window next to the loading bay, obviously preferring survival over a continuation of the fight, and Obi-Wan follows her. He keeps his eyes locked on Maul, though, who winces when he pushes himself up with his hands—should have taken a second to decapitate him, missed chance—and looks just as disquieted as Obi-Wan feels. Not one of his plans, then.

There are people outside the window. A few of them are pulling charred bodies off Maul’s victim pile, some are inspecting Obi-Wan’s ship—still there, luckily, though far enough he’ll have to run for a few minutes to reach it—and most of them are hauling around a small fighter ship using massive ropes. They’re shouting something that’s inaudible through the thick transparisteel pane of the window, but looks incredibly angry, and then Obi-Wan’s hairs raise again. He and Ventress grab for the cross bar behind them, and—shake.

“Villagers,” Ventress hisses.

“Quite.” Obi-Wan raises his voice. Wherever Darth Maul and his delirious lackey are right now, they’ll be able to hear him. “They have come to avenge their families murdered by a broken, unbalanced monster.”

“And kill us, too.”

“Now, I’m sure that once I tell them I’m a Jedi sent in to bring their murderer to justice they’ll—”

“Duck.”

Obi-Wan glances out of the window again, and outside, the people must have noticed them: they gesticulate wildly towards the window, and their towed ship’s laser cannon is pointed right at—

His knees ache. They’ve hit the floor hard, because Ventress has pulled him down with impressive force, and another boom shakes the freighter.

“What about the word ‘duck’ do you not understand?” Ventress gets up again and inspects the window, which hasn’t—yet—shattered. “I’m disappointed, Kenobi. I thought I’d taught you how to obey my commands.”

“My ship is out there, but we won’t make it that far.”

Ventress sighs. “Well aware. Our only way out is the freighter, and…”

Obi-Wan follows the direction of her eyes. Maul has made his way back to his apprentice. Back where the cockpit is. He must have reached the same conclusion. He’s whispering something inaudible and trying to pull the other zabrak onto his feet. Even with his chicken legs compensating for their height difference, though, he’s not strong enough, not when Opress isn’t cooperating at all. They’re only tens of meters away from the salvation of the cockpit door, a distance the sickened Sith apparently cannot crawl anymore and is too heavy to be dragged.

“Help me, brother, help me,” the big Sith moans weakly. He’s attempting to push Maul’s hands away, completely ineffectively, lightsaber forgotten. “I don’t want—please don’t—Sister don’t—”

Ventress looks over at him, an unreadable expression on her face, before she says, “If they get into the cockpit before us, we have a problem. But they’re both exhausted. As long as they don’t manage to close the door, we can make it.”

As soon as Obi-Wan and Ventress approach, though, Darth Maul drops his feverish apprentice with little care—Savage’s head hits the wall with a clang, though he has little brain to even lose from traumatic brain injury—and strides a few meters forward, lightsaber ignited. He looks more focused now after the break in battle, even if still sweat-drenched and trembling, and the barrage of laser strikes that hits the freighter doesn’t keel him over the way the first attack did.

“You have decided to return and die, then,” Maul says.

Ventress sneers. “You barely managed to hold the two of us back.”

Another volley of shots. The villagers are firing more and more often, and however well-armored this freighter may be, it won’t hold out forever. Every attack could be their end. With dawning dread, Obi-Wan realizes they might not even have timeto fight a newly revitalized Maul for the cockpit. And that means…

“In their drive for righteous vengeance against you, the Raydonians will kill us all if we stay here. And soon. You cannot get into the cockpit without giving us an opportunity to attack; we cannot defeat you fast enough. I therefore propose a temporary truce for our mutual survival.” The words are bile on his tongue, proposing a deal with a mass murderer to help him escape his victims, but needs must. Obi-Wan is a General of the GAR, and more battlefields than this one require his guidance. Maul is but a single washed-up revenant of a Sith, and he’ll find death sooner or later.

He takes a step towards the cockpit. Savage Opress shudders.

Ventress catches up to him, and Opress winces and curls into a ball.

“No,” Darth Maul says.

“If we do not take off soon, you’ll die!”

Opress, on the floor, uncurls and coughs. Flecks of something come out and hit the floor, red—blood. Instinctively, Obi-Wan moves closer.

The feverish Sith, mid-coughing fit, pushes himself up with trembling arms. Glowering, he forces out, “You won’t—” cough— “hurt him, now, I’ll—” cough, cough, cough, and more blood spraying towards Obi-Wan. There’s a visible sore on the zabrak’s shoulder from this vantage point, right where Ventress managed to injure him, massive and red and swollen with a necrotic black center. A clue towards his mysterious illness, if Maul’s irrational desire to let them all die before cooperating wasn’t far more pressing.

“My apprentice is right,” Maul says. He’s sweating profusely, probably feverish, and subtly bracing himself on an upended crate, but he’s probably no less lethal when cornered. “We do not trust you.”

“I give you my word as a Jedi Master.”

Maul’s eyes go crazed suddenly, wide and burning, as he howls, “Your word? Your word? I fought with honor. I could have booby-trapped that palace, and yet I did not. I fought honorably, two against one, and yet you would not even give me death, you—”

“I thought you’d died—”

“You gave me pain, pain, pain! For a decade I crawled in refuse and I fed on nothing but hatred for the Jedi who would not even grant his honorable enemy an honorable death!”

“I really thought you’d died,” Obi-Wan repeats weakly. “How was I to know you could survive a sai tok?”

“Here is what I think of your honor, Jedi.” Maul spits on the ground. Is it Obi-Wan’s imagination or is there blood speckled in…

Another blast hits the freighter. They’re running out of time.

“Ventress, then,” Obi-Wan offers. “She is of the dark side, just like you. I trust that’s more agreeable?”

She’s flushed red and sweating slightly, too—just what kind of contagious illness is this?—but she nods in Obi-Wan’s direction and stalks forward.

Again, Savage Opress starts whimpering as soon as he sees her face, and that’s Maul’s cue to block the path with his ignited lightsaber.

“What is it now?” Obi-Wan is the Negotiator, but even he can be forgiven for his lapse in tone now, as he tries to convince an obviously insane murderer to choose his own survival—and that of his apprentice, too. His apprentice… Perhaps… But no, Maul has never shown care for a living being beside himself, so appealing for the preservation of his fellow zabrak would be pointless. There must be a better argument. If only he knew… “What do you have against Ventress? She may have chosen to help me this time, but I promise you, we are at best friendly enemies.”

“My apprentice is afraid of her. I am more inclined to trust his judgment than yours,” Maul says, as if the shudders of a delusional feverish oaf of a Sith was enough reason to condemn them all to death by village mob. Without more information, this is a knot impossible to untangle.

“Ventress, do you—”

“Leave it.”

“—do you know why Savage Opress is scared?”

There is no answer. Asajj Ventress strides back towards the cargo bay.

Maul has retreated to his apprentice, perhaps having decided that Obi-Wan currently won’t instigate a fight. He’s squatting in front of him on his ludicrous chicken legs, a critical eye turned back over his shoulder on the other zabrak. “You’re burning up,” he says quietly. Obi-Wan is barely close enough still to hear him. “And as for the violent coughs… the armor is not helping.”

Savage swallows and shudders and presses his hands to his covered belly.

“You are of no use to me dead.”

No answer. The other Sith coughs out blood and then curls up again, the very picture of misery.

“I shall keep them away from you.”

“From you,” Savage rasps. “Keep them from… I am—” cough— “already lost. They must not hurt you.”

“If you die, you are of no use to me,” Maul repeats. His lip curls, though it’s impossible to tell whether from impatience or cruelty or worry. “You promised to protect me. How will you do that, apprentice, if you are dead?”

It seems to have worked. The word ‘protect’—a revelation Obi-Wan should perhaps have seen coming, but who would expect anyone to look at Darth Maul and see a creature worth protecting, a person in needof protection?—it rouses Opress into a weak kneeling position. He paws at the right shoulder pad of his armor, again and again, but…

“No-one told you how to take it off.” Maul’s voice is entirely flat, and Obi-Wan’s almost offended by his lack of shock. Who—how—why would someone wear an armor they could not remove? “Be still, then, apprentice.”

He raises his lightsaber and cuts, carefully—pausing twice just before a coughing fit wracks Savage’s frame—first through one shoulder pad and then the next, and the pauldron too. The undershirt beneath is dotted with burnt holes, and Darth Maul pulls it away from his apprentice’s body and cuts it as well. Opress is heavily scarred, shiny burn scars all over his shoulders and torso beneath the armor, and a massive overlay of lichtenberg figures down his back—but beside the lesion of the infected wound on his shoulder from Ventress’ attack which has engulfed his whole arm now, they’re all healed enough to be at least a few weeks old. Maul directs him to pull off his boots, too, but allows him to keep his skirt.

“This armor was useless against anything but blasters, anyway,” Maul says. “And it’s obvious that you are not used to moving with its weight. Whoever gave it to you did not act in the interest of—”

“Don’t let me interrupt, boys.” Ventress smirks as Maul’s head whips up. The Sith looks panicked and strangely guilty. “But the mob outside has found another ship with a bigger cannon. We should probably get going.”

Savage’s head clanks against the floor again, Maul’s uncharacteristic tenderness forgotten as soon as he remembers his audience. Lightsaber raised in a defensive position, Maul repeats, “No.”

“Ventress can take the ship, and I’ll stay here as collateral—she won’t decouple the cockpit.”

“No.”

“You really want to die here?”

Maul turns his face away. His arm is trembling.

You cannot imagine the depths I would go to to stay alive, he said when he attacked Obi-Wan. And the depths he’ll go to to kill Obi-Wan, apparently, including mulishly waiting for his own death, and the miserable demise of his own apprentice as well.

“Savage is sick,” Obi-Wan tries. The guarding, the careful removal of his armor—the relationship has to count for something. Even Darth Maul would not sink as low. “He needs medical care. By your stubborn refusal, you condemn him to death. Your apprentice will die here.”

Maul’s eyes are pools of fire and darkness. Vicious and dead. His voice is flat, empty, when he says, “There is no mercy for the weak. No mercy. There never was.”

Laser blasts shake the freighter again, and all Obi-Wan’s negotiation attempts have come to nothing. Trapped with a madman. He’ll just let all of them die, and for what? Stubborn Sith suspicion? If he will not yield, then… Desperately, he suggests, “Take the cockpit yourself, then. You do not trust either of us, but I am prepared to stake mine and her lives on your—on your honor. You insist you fight with honor. Prove it. We need to take off, or we all die.”

Down on the floor, Opress mumbles something that almost sounds like assent. He’s always looked vacuous and inexpressive to Obi-Wan, barely reacting to what should have been pain or mortal danger, but whether it’s the infection or the situation—he’s grabbed onto the ruined pauldron and tries to shield his bare torso. He’s swallowing, painfully, but he cannot force down his expression of sheer unadulterated dread.

There’s something more going on, something far beyond anything Obi-Wan could have suspected when he chose to come to Raydonia. This fear… Opress appears convinced that despite the laser cannons barraging their shelter, despite the mysterious onset of his brutal illness, it’s Obi-Wan and Ventress who pose a danger beyond his wildest nightmares. And Darth Maul…

“No,” Maul says. “I will not leave him for you to swallow his mind and carve up his body.”

It’s madness.

Mystifying. Hopeless. Madness.

Obi-Wan kicks one of the scattered meal packs on his way back to the cargo bay for another, probably fruitless, check on his own cruiser. Ventress stays behind, coughing softly. It’s no use escaping, though, just as Obi-Wan predicted—the sky is dark and the mob of villagers have probably mostly gone to sleep, but they’ve posted guards at the doors of the freighter and there’s no question they’ll spot Obi-Wan on his run, and if Ventress starts succumbing more deeply to the mysterious illness too… she won’t make it, and duty to the galaxy and the Republic would demand he leave anyway to rejoin his place at the GAR’s helm, but she came here to rescue him. He might have died at Maul’s hands—the sickness might not have broken out at all—if she hadn’t come. Whatever Maul thinks happened on Naboo, Obi-Wan knows honor. He won’t leave her behind.

He meanders back slowly, wracking his mind for any possible course of action, and suddenly his boot kicks up white dust. The crate! That innocuous crate that broke open, and unleashed its mysterious ills. He probably shouldn’t touch anything or even breathe here—but then he’s weathered this infection much better thus far than either of the zabraks or Ventress, he’s feeling as fine physically as he ever did after a drag-out ‘saberfight, and perhaps a clue as to the cause of the malady or a possible cure would give him leverage over Darth Maul. If it doesn’t, well… if he can’t find a way to the cockpit, he’ll get blown apart or dragged out by the angry mob he came here to avenge. He’ll die anyway.

There’s nothing at all helpful about the crate, though. It doesn’t even have a Caution! Do Not Break! marking or a biohazard or toxic warning. No, only an impressed and dirt-crusted set of numbers that may well have been there since the crate’s manufacture, and a mysterious stencil proclaiming the vendor one S.I. Rosenfeld. A custom-exemption stamp for Iridonia. The powder itself smells of nothing. It tastes of—well, whatever it tastes of, even in this desperation Obi-Wan refuses to put it in his mouth.

Hunt for clues abandoned, he instead carries back four hydrosacks.

A token of goodwill, at least. Obi-Wan himself is parched after the battle, and with how feverish Ventress and Darth Maul look, not to mention delirious Savage Opress… it’s worth an attempt, at the very least. But whereas Ventress takes her water gratefully, Maul only stares at the sacks that Obi-Wan kicks his way, even after Obi-Wan demonstratively drinks from his own. When Opress blindly reaches for one of the hydrosacks, one of Darth Maul’s chicken claws forces his hand back down.

Back to the standoff, then. Ventress periodically dis- and reappears with new sacks of water. Obi-Wan meditates. Darth Maul, meanwhile, paces in front of his sick partner, waiting for…

Whatever he is waiting for, it doesn’t come.

“You’re growing weaker, apprentice.” There’s no inflection in Maul’s voice now, nothing like the unhinged raving he directed at Obi-Wan earlier, and yet… “The dark side will give you the strength to survive. It is the only path.”

He reaches towards the other zabrak’s face, not the top of his head the way he braced himself up before but cupping one of his cheeks: a tenderness that hours before, Obi-Wan would not have thought possible.

Opress cringes away. He’s more lucid now, at least, but his breath is shallow and wheezing. “Brother,” he begs. “I would not… survive the lightning now. I can’t. I never could.”

A flinch answers him, tiny, almost invisible if Obi-Wan had not been watching the revenant nightmare for hours now, and then Maul whispers, “There is no lightning.”

“Master Dooku said—"

“Dooku was a liar and a fraud. He is a Jedi pretender, not a true Sith as we are, apprentice. In his refusal to credit you with interiority he overlooked the suffering he could have utilized, and so he had to cheat. The genuine test of the dark is that which already lies within, I have learnt.” Maul’s bright yellow eyes gleam over at Obi-Wan. He pauses. Considering, perhaps, what he should reveal before his audience.

Obi-Wan crosses his arms, extinguished lightsaber still at the ready. He won’t turn away. For now, though, he won’t interrupt either—something tells him to pause, though when he reaches to the force for guidance, all he feels is the cold and the unfathomable deep.

Opess moans in pain again.

Whatever misgivings Maul might have had, the sound wipes them away. “You’re in agony now, aren’t you?” he murmurs, an alien gleam in his rich genteel voice. “You feel the infection take hold of you more with every passing beat of your hearts. The fever, the ache. You can hardly breathe. It has colonized all of your vital systems. You are your body, and your body is pain. One careless moment, and he caught you, and now nothing exists but agony and dread and terrible thirst. Feel it. Sink into it. Luxuriate in your misery.”

Savage Opress, blood dribbling from his mouth onto his brother’s thumb, closes his fever-bright eyes.

“I have felt this, and yet I survived. You’re terrified, and in mourning for the life they stole from you. That he… that she—” and he looks up at Ventress—“that she stole. You hate her for the brother she took, for the mind she enslaved, for the involuntary shudder of your body whenever you recall her touch. That is enough, apprentice. That is enough for the dark. You know it is worse than any lightning that amateur could throw at you. Terror, pain, betrayal and loss and burning rage… Peace is a lie. There is only passion. Through passion I gain strength. Through strength I gain power. Through power I gain victory. Through victory my chains are broken. The force shall free me. Repeat these words, as I did in the putrid chasm. They are a mantra gliding through your fingers while you feel.”

More hacking coughs, and in-between, the movement of lips. Obi-Wan should interrupt this—this venal induction into the dark side of the force, and yet… Opress fell already, and he is almost dead now.

The force pushes in through every orifice, every pore, pushes and pushes, a static pressure unlike anything he’s ever felt from the light. There is no sound but Maul’s voice and the bloody gasps for air, and even if a cannon hit the freighter right now, it would not penetrate air that is suddenly as thick as ocean floor water.

“You feel,” Maul encourages. “You feel. You will not die here in front of this woman who enslaved you, who forced you to murder your own brother. You will not. You hate her, don’t you? You are not allowed to hate her because she owns you, but you do. You hate her every look. Every unwanted touch. Every breath she takes, and every second she could try to kill the only brother you have left…”

In shock, Obi-Wan tries to meet Ventress’ eyes—he knew she was of the dark, but this cannot be truth—but she’s hardly better off than the yellow zabrak, fever-flushed and coughing on her own in the shadow of an unopened crate.

Maul is almost in a trance now, purring, as if there was no-one present but him and his apprentice and the sudden icy waves in the enclosed cargo hold, “She might impel you to kill me with your bare hands. You hate her.”

You cannot imagine the depths I would go to to stay alive, Maul ranted. Fueled by my singular hatred for you.

Are these the depths?

Is this how he managed to survive Naboo?

“You hate her, and you hate yourself—because you were weak enough to let it happen. You will not be weak now. You are Sith, apprentice. You are not weak. You will not submit to another nightsister. You will not kneel before another Dooku. Whatever it takes to gain power, you will do. However vile you need to become, you will. You do not belong to her. You do not belong to your sickness. You belong to the force, and it will devour your agony and your dread and your fever. It will devour you,” and Darth Maul bites the solid air with his rotten teeth.

“But you are strong. And you will wrest that which eats you into yourself and sink your teeth into its frozen innards. Feast on the force, apprentice. Feast on the force, and feed it pain and terror, and it will keep you alive until it grows fat on the misery of the entire galaxy.”

Opress lies still. Quiet. His bare torso is exposed to air so cold Obi-Wan expects to see hoarfrost cover every surface, but he does not cough, does not bleed. He does not fight against Maul’s hand, one bracing the back of his head and the other against his cheek still—

Against his cheek, and then digging in with pungent anger that bleeds into the force like the blood welling under Maul’s fingernails.

The sudden pressure spike threatens to implode Obi-Wan’s eyeballs. With his fingers massaging his closed lids and through eardrums thickly waterlogged, he hears Maul hiss, “Surely you did not expect to leave your path this quickly, apprentice? Mother Talzin sent you after me, but you followed me off Dathomir, and in that moment, you were mine. You left your brother behind and dead on the ground but you will not abandon me.”

A soft keen is all that answers his tirade at first, and then follows a river of anguished moans and scuffling on the ground and the pitter of—of blood, scratching, mangling. Obi-Wan startles and only when he trips over a clattering something in the pitch dark does he realize he just tried to protect Opress—protect Savage Opress!—from Darth Maul. The Sith is beyond mindless now, howling as he did when he blamed Obi-Wan for all his ills, all traces of the strange tenderness forgotten, and yet—Obi-Wan pauses. This is desperation. This is grief.

As cruel and insane as his words are; as blasphemous as the dark powers he is beseeching—this is not a monster.

This is the pure madness of attachment.

“You swore you would never betray me,” Maul wails in the deep and frozen dark of a trashed freight ship. “Did you trick me, brother? Was this your play? To pretend at kindness when I was weak so I would unlearn the most elementary of lessons? And I did.”

An answering gurgle that sounds like brother, no.

“You are leaving—”

Another barrage of wheezes—

“—but if you are still even capable of loyalty after you murdered your brother… I trusted you.” Maul’s eyes gleam in the pitch dark, not plain Sith yellow but—wet. They beckon, call, howl; they are the last thing that seems to exist. “I trusted you. You called yourself my brother. I trusted you. I learned to despise the world, and yet, somehow, I trusted…”

The wails lose all coherence after that. In the primordial calm of the freezing cargo hold, Obi-Wan holds his breath, for any sign of Savage’s life, for another gambit, another invocation of the dark force, for anything at all.

The pressure plummets as quickly as it appeared. A far too quick resurfacing, and it dizzies Obi-Wan, but Maul… Maul sinks down onto the floor softly, his chicken legs collapsing in a way even chicken legs shouldn’t, still holding onto Savage and clutching his brother’s head like a doll against his chest. The handle of the ‘saber clatters from the fist he presses against Savage’s back. The red Sith is not sweating anymore, but the ordeal seems to have exhausted him: he blinks his lighthouse eyes open, and open, and open, and then he doesn’t.

Obi-Wan drops to the floor. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for now. For the true horror of the Sith power that he just witnessed to reveal itself? The pressure and the gloom are all but gone now, and even the unnatural icy wind is beginning to dissipate. And yet, this cannot be the end. If this was the dark side of the force, it is far beyond anything he felt in his deepest meditations, and it shouldn’t just… go back to sleep.

Or maybe, he’s waiting for Maul to rise up and attack him? But the Sith looks more peaceful than he ever did, wrapped tight around his—brother, his brother, whom he somehow cares for and mourns.

Or—he’s waiting for Obi-Wan himself, who came to finally kill the Sith?

That is his task, and his duty to the galaxy and the Jedi and to Raydonia, to Qui-Gon, but after this moment… it feels profane, impossible, to kill Maul who is vulnerable now because he chose to beg for his brother’s life. The monster displayed a tenderness, a humanity that Obi-Wan would never have thought him capable of, and though it is deeply irrational, Obi-Wan walks past the spot where unmoving Sith cling to each other and into the cockpit.

He pilots the freighter to the nearest planet with an advanced toxicology medcenter.

He carries Asajj Ventress inside, paler than she has ever been and gone passive with bloodloss. Regardless of what he might have learned—and he is still not sure what to make of the fragments whispered by a lying Sith—she came to his rescue, and silently he prays that the force does not will her death. He is quarantined as well, despite his pleas—there are Sith, night-dead but Sith, up on the rooftop landing bay, and if they won’t call the Jedi Order to dispatch them they should know (and he pauses, but he just can’t) they should know the Sith are also grievously ill—and he gives the healers all the clues he picked up, the symptoms and the white powder and the name on the unprepossessing crate, and they give him nothing in return. No information on Ventress’ status (she will cross his path in a few months, and she will not answer his questions) and no audience with the Iridonian in ambassadorial robes frowning through the durasteel window of his isolation room, and no heads up on the squad of anti-bioterrorism police droids they sent to the freighter.

No warning that the ship has disappeared.

That, he finds out from Master Windu who retrieves him from his quarantine cell after two days of manic pacing.

Maul, at the very least, must have survived, and Obi-Wan could have killed him when he passed out cradling his brother. Maul has survived, and taken the ship and its murderous infective powder away with him. Maul has survived, and Obi-Wan will bear the weight of every person he kills hereafter. Will bear the pressure and the dread and the pleading in his ears.

.

Savage Opress is still by Darth Maul’s side when they attack Florrum and murders Master Adi Gallia, and Obi-Wan can’t catalogue the emotion he feels.

[abyssal-memories-and-dreams]

Hi sorry to bother you but can you do the same oneshot that I have requested for leona but this time is jack howl pls and don't forget that the reader has the same personality, background and the role of mc pls.

Hi, Luv! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy!

Without further ado...

Jack Howl x Fem! Shy! Reader

~The Wolf in Hero’s Clothing~

“Oi, pipsqueak!” 

A group of boys cornered you at the bottom of one of Night Raven’s many staircases as you backed up against the iron railing as much as you could. Your first thought was to run back upstairs to Professor Trein’s classroom for sanctuary but realized that a couple of them had already blocked your way to exit through there. So much for trying to catch up on your studies, you guessed. With not much to do, your mind started to wander to get yourself away from the stress, wondering one question to yourself.

How did it come to this?

Well, the answer simplifies in the fact that you were not supposed to attend Night Raven College at all. Not that you really could as someone who could not control any magic. And yet Headmaster Crowley saw potential in you - that you held a special knack for teamwork with your newfound companion, Grim. But even so, there was nothing outgoing about you.

Back in your world, you were never the best at socializing with others. You always kept to yourself, and would often do double the amount of work in school just to keep up with your classes. No one really saw the need to talk to you either, so for the most part, you were just left alone. Whether or not this was bad or not, you really couldn’t tell, but nonetheless grew anxious the more you felt like you had to talk to people other than your family.

So when you suddenly woke up in the middle of the night inside of a coffin, your heart sank as you feared for your life whilst being chased by your now furry familiar. When all was set and done, though, not much had changed in how you interacted with others. Yes, you had Ace Trapolla and Deuce Spade from Heartslabyul, but you still had your moments where you felt too intimidated to approach them. Combining them with Grim’s arrogant persona, and you often found yourself reclusing back to your own dorm to escape the chaos.

Of course, it was never going to be that easy while residing in this academy. Being the sole female student in this school, you often got stares by some of the other boys in the hallways. It was almost comedic, if not a little weird at seeing their expressions, almost as if they had never seen a woman in their entire life. Some of them tried to even approach you - there was that the dorm leader of Scarabia mustered up some small talk on the spot, but his vice leader was able to pull him off to his next class before he got too close to your liking. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just a little awkward for you. In fact, most of whoever you did interact with was on a neutral footing. Either that or they just ignored you, simple as that.

However... that did not stop a certain group of classmates from making you feel repulsed.

These guys didn’t do so much as stare at you as they did stare you down. No matter where you went, you could feel piercing eyes stare at you like a predator stares at its prey. You could see from the bands on their arms that a lot of them came from Savanaclaw - the dorm built on their students’ pride. You posed no threat to them, but they still looked down upon you like a helpless little herbivore. You realized pretty quickly that they were itching for your reaction, desperate to watch you cower underneath them.

So what was your solution? Evasion and hiding. Yes, you realized that this probably wasn’t the best plan, but it was one that worked best for you. For a while, you sought to run away from them as urgently as possible. You rushed between hallways to avoid social interaction and get to your classes quicker. You sat as close to the dining hall’s door to rush through your meal and hide in your next classroom. You sometimes took the long way back to your dorm by learning about the school’s layout and planning your route from there. And sometimes, you even hid in the library when you suspected something amiss, then awaited until nightfall for you to return to your room unscathed.

These habits soon controlled your life to an unhealthy degree. Sometimes, your familiar Grim would try to pry answers from you when you got back home, but you just shrugged it off and moved on with the conversation. After all... what could you do? Your existence in this world rendered as much as a fly avoiding the next frog or venus flytrap it flew across.

Unfortunately for you, the day you decided to stay after class for an extra study session was the exact same day one of those predators found you.

“Hey, Herbivore!” Another one of the students from Savanaclaw yelled at you, snapping out of your daze. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How does it feel knowing that someone weak like you has managed to survive this long?”

Your voice gets caught up in your throat, forcing you to only gulp as your heart beats faster, pounding in your eardrums. You could feel your palms start to sweat as your hand grew clammy on the stair railing. Was this it, you wondered? Was this the fear that they wanted to get from you? Either way, it was working.

“Hey, we’re talking to you!”

You yelped as another one gripped the back of your blazer and dragged you from the stair railing to the floor. All of them laughed as they watched you trip over your feet and fall to your knees, your petrified eyes gazing up at them as if it’s the last thing they’ll be able to see.

“Please...” You muttered under your breath.

“Huh? Please what?” Another guy chimed in, smirking. “Don’t think that timid act of yours is gonna save you, herbivore. C’mon, why not entertain us for a moment? Fight back, use your words...” He chuckled, his words of ‘encouragement’ leaning more on cynicism. Every word he spoke left a tinge of bile in your mouth as your felt ashamed for letting these guys get under your skin so easily.

Of course, you said nothing - you couldn’t say anything. Your heart was beating at the speed of light, your voice hitching up an octave to the point of inaudibility the more you whimpered, your tear ducts on the verge of explosion from the sheer fear you were feeling. None of it could’ve helped you as you saw the same boy’s condescending smile turn into a demeaning scowl like he was disappointed you didn’t snap back at him - that you didn’t entertain him.

“Tch... worthless!”

As soon as he said that, he rose his fist in the air only to swing back down at you. You shut your eyes tight and tried your best to cover them with your wrist, but you knew that could only work so well in this predicament. Was this it? Was this going to be your demise? Were you going to the infirmary later with a severe concussion as you barely recalled the same boys that accosted you, rooting each other on with cheers of encouragement?

And yet... you didn’t feel anything.

You didn’t hear anything beyond your heartbeat.

The same voices seemed to deafen in a matter of seconds. You keep your eyes shut, confused. Did you lose consciousness already?

No. You could still hear your heartbeat. You could still feel your palms layered with a sheen of sweat. And for a moment in time, you could feel a single teardrop escape from the corner of your eye and fall down your cheek.

You slowly opened your eyes, wondering what in the world happened. Suddenly, all the boys surrounding you were all on the floor, either groaning in excruciating pain or knocked out cold. Your gaze wandered from boy to boy, letting out a sigh of relief that you were ok for now.

“Hey.”

You jerked your head around to the source of the voice behind you, your heart starting to beat faster again. Behind you was another guy, larger than any of the upperclassmen that harassed you before. His skin was a light tan that contrasted with his piercing golden eyes and white hair. What stood him out from the rest were his wolf-like ears that perched on the top of his head, the hair fusing from an ivory white to a dark grey at the tips. Behind him, he had a tail of similar characteristics that sprouted out of the back of his uniform.

The boy held his arm out for you to grab and get you back onto your feet. However, you froze in fear upon closer inspection at the band on his sleeve, only to scurry away from him the more he reached out to you.

Another student from Savanaclaw. Just like those boys before

He took a step back, confused as to why you flinched away from him. However, upon seeing the fear on your face, he took a deep breath as if he figured it out, averting your gaze to contemplate what to do next. Finally, he took another step back before kneeling to your eye level, relaxing his posture before asking in the most gentle voice he could muster.

“... Are you alright? Don’t worry, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

(A/N: I would like to thank you guys again for these requests! These are a lot of fun to make! Just to let you guys know, I am just about this close to opening requests again. When that happens, feel free to offer some suggestions! I want to try writing more for different fandoms, so if you have a suggestion, let me know!!! 

With All Appreciation,

Echo)

[pretchatta]

the laws of spectre dynamics

I know it’s been a little while, but the university au continues! future updates will be more frequent, and you can always subscribe on AO3 to get notifications for each new chapter.

prev. chapters | chapter three

rating: teen; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 3.5k words

---

The pale morning light streamed through a gap in the curtains. Lying on her front, cheek pressed into the pillow, Hera’s eyes fluttered open. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but she could tell that it was still early.

She stretched, luxuriating in the feeling of soft sheets against bare skin. Lazy Saturday mornings always felt good. She rolled onto her side and was reminded of the other reason this particular morning felt so good; the man lying behind her. The very attractive, very naked man.

Kanan was on his side, his chest now pressed against her back. He sleepily draped an arm over her waist as she settled against him and dragged his fingertips lightly over her stomach.

“Good morning,” came his deep voice from behind her, roughened by sleep. She felt him nuzzle the back of her head and press a kiss to the base of one lek. 

She twisted to lie on her back so that she could look at him. His long hair was loose and sleep-tousled, and his face looked a little different without his glasses – more elongated, even though his features were the same. Her eyes travelled over the smooth, light brown skin, crooked nose and the small beard that covered his chin. His teal eyes looked steadily back at her from under his thick, angular eyebrows. 

“Morning,” she said, feeling her mouth curve into a warm smile. She tilted her head up so their lips could meet in a chaste kiss. “Did you sleep okay?”

His eyes sparkled and he smirked at her. “Better than okay,” he replied. “You?”

Her eyes dropped to his mouth as she thought back to just how she’d fallen asleep. “Oh, I had a great night.”

He leaned in to brush his lips over her jaw. His arm was still hooked over her waist, and his hand was warm where his fingers splayed over her ribs.

“Unfortunately I can’t stay long,” he murmured. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”

“Help yourself, there are spare towels in the hamper.”

He gave her another quick kiss and then extricated himself from the tangle of limbs and bedsheets. Hera sleepily watched him cross the room to the door, appreciating the view in the morning light. Kanan turned at the doorway and caught the direction of her eyes. He smirked before disappearing into the hall, and a few moments later she heard the shower come on.

She let her eyes drift shut, and must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew all was quiet. She felt a little more awake now, so sat up and surveyed her room. Clothes were strewn over the floor, though it took her a moment to realise they were all hers. She listened again, and heard nothing; had he dressed and left while she was sleeping? She knew he had to leave, but he seemed like the kind of person to at least say goodbye first...

Her eyes fell on the scrap of paper on her bedside table that hadn’t been there last night. It looked like a torn-off section of what might have once been an envelope. A few mathematical formulae were scrawled in one corner, but they had been crossed out by the same pen that had added a note in elegant handwriting.

“Hera,

I’ve gone to the shop down the road for breakfast, your key was still in the door from last night. I’ll be back in 10.

-K”

She felt a pang of guilt about her empty fridge. She’d needed to go grocery shopping for a few days now, but had kept putting it off, living off instant ready-meals. There was nothing she could do about it now. At least there was milk for coffee.

Though she didn’t know how long it had been since he’d left, she decided she should have time for a quick shower. She hurriedly grabbed her clothes off the floor of the bedroom and made the bed in case he came back before she was out. Even though he had played an equal part in creating that state, she still felt a need to tidy things up a bit. 

As Hera made her way to the bathroom, she was reminded that there were also clothes in the hallway. She found Kanan’s sweater vest in the pile with her coat, and couldn’t help but smile as she neatly folded it and set it on the end of the bed.

In the shower, her body went through the familiar routine as her mind reflected on the previous night. She’d been looking forward to the date from the moment they’d arranged it in the library, and it had gone better than she could ever have dreamed. Their conversation in the foyer of the Vasar-Corellia building hadn’t been the first time she’d seen Kanan; her office on the second floor overlooked the courtyard below, and she’d often seen him crossing it. He’d caught her eye immediately.

She’d been able to discern that he wasn’t a student, and he clearly worked in the Chemistry building, but not much more besides. Very few members of academic staff looked like that, so she couldn’t help but pay attention whenever she noticed him. 

Sometimes, when she assumed he was running late, he’d run his hand over his hair and a few strands would fall out around his face. Or his glasses would slide down his nose and he’d push them back up with the knuckle of his index finger as he walked. Sometimes, he wasn’t late, and would stroll across the courtyard holding a to-go coffee cup, his other hand tucked into his pocket. At those times he usually had a distant look on his face, like he was deep in thought.

Sometimes he’d be waylaid by students – that was how she’d known for sure he was part of the teaching staff. She’d marvelled at how easily they’d approached him, but he’d always seemed ready and willing to answer whatever questions they had. She assumed he was a good teacher.

And then she’d finally got the chance to talk to him – properly, not when she had to go set up a lab or talk to someone about a careers fair. Apart from the weird moment as they’d left campus when he’d seemed like he was trying to impress her, he’d been a perfect gentleman and excellent company. Talking to him had been so easy, and with how much they’d had in common she felt like they could have kept going well into the night.

As it was, she was not disappointed with how they had spent the night. It certainly wasn’t how she’d planned to end the evening, but that kiss… It had been electric, like no-one she’d ever kissed before. And the things he could do with his mouth…

She forced herself to focus on washing herself before she could get distracted. Yes, last night had been incredible. He hadn’t even technically gone yet and she was already hoping for a second date.

She finished up in the bathroom and was just pulling on clean clothes when she heard the sound of the front door opening. She finished wrapping a soft scarf around her head – grey, matching the top she wore above orange harem pants, her usual weekend clothes – and went out to the hall. Kanan was just closing the door behind himself.

He was back to being the Chemistry professor again; the clothes from last night (minus the sweater), glasses, hair pulled back neatly behind his head. He held a carrier bag in one hand, and the other came up to run over his hair as he caught sight of her in front of him.

“Hey, you’re awake!” He started towards her, but didn’t give her an opportunity to respond as he launched into an explanation of his absence. “You’d fallen asleep when I came out of the shower, but I was thinking I still had some time before I have to go, and I thought you might like breakfast – we did say we’d have coffee today, so why not coffee and breakfast? – and since you didn’t seem to have much in, I thought I’d just go out and pick up a few things – I hope you don’t mind I took your key, I didn’t want to wake you up but I do need to keep an eye on the time for Ezra –” 

He was talking quickly, the words almost tripping over themselves as he tried to get them out. “Do you like omelette? I can make something else if you’d rather – or, if you want me to leave, I can just go now–”

She cut him off with a kiss. It was very effective.

“Omelette sounds lovely,” she told him. 

He seemed to relax, from either the kiss or her words, or possibly a combination of the two. “I’ll make a start.”

“As long as it’s not going to make you late.”

“Nah, this won’t take long.” He followed her into the kitchen and set the bag down on the counter, pulling out his ingredients.

“I suppose if you’re making me breakfast I could make you that coffee?” she offered.

He flashed her a smile that made her heart leap. “I wouldn’t say no.”

There was barely room in Hera’s kitchen for two people, and they had to carefully co-ordinate who was at the sink or fridge or counter at any one time. Despite this, as the two of them bustled around the small space Hera couldn’t help but notice how right it felt. She’d always considered herself to be someone who was happy in her own company and didn’t need anyone else to make her complete, but there was something very comforting about how easily she fell into the sheer domesticity of making breakfast with Kanan. The only thing missing was Chopper bothering her for his breakfast.

Soon, the air was filled with the rich smell of coffee and the sound of bacon sizzling in the pan. Kanan made quick work of the omelette, expertly dividing it in half before serving onto two mismatched plates. Hera poured the coffee and took the mugs to the table, where she was reminded that her dining situation was very much set up for one. 

She shifted the stack of mail that had accumulated on her second dining chair to an armchair so that Kanan could sit down. She considered herself a fairly neat person, but to outsiders she knew her system seemed chaotic. She had a place for everything, and everything was in its place – it was just that the places weren’t necessarily where one might logically assume them to be. 

If Kanan’s going to be here more often I’m going to need a new place to put my mail.

The thought crossed her mind unbidden, and she chastised herself. There was no guarantee that they’d do this again. Yes, he had suggested meeting up again last night, and she was pretty sure he’d enjoyed their date as much as she had, but it still didn’t mean anything for certain. She shouldn’t make any assumptions about where things were going, or she’d be setting herself up for disappointment. She shook her head as if to clear it and went to get them some cutlery.

Kanan turned out to be a great cook. The omelettes were perfectly done, and tasted delicious. Their easy banter resumed as they ate, and continued after they were done and simply sat sipping their coffees.

During a natural lull in the conversation, she caught Kanan gazing at her with an unmistakable softness. He seemed to realise it, and snapped back to himself.

“I should wash up.” He took her plate and stood up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you cooked!” she protested, following him back into the kitchen. “I’ll do it.”

He set the plates in the sink and turned to the frying pan, but she grabbed his hand before he could take it.

“Stop it.” She had to step close to him in order to hold both hands, and in the tiny space she ended up pushing him against the counter. “I told you, I’ll wash up.”

“I’m just trying to be a good houseguest.”

She grinned up at him. “You’ve already been great.” She pushed up onto her toes to close the small gap between them. His mouth was still warm from the coffee, and he smelled faintly of her soap mixed with something she was realising was uniquely Kanan. She liked it. Her grip on his wrists relaxed as he twisted his arms away to encircle her waist. The kiss was soft and slow, with none of the urgency of their kisses the previous night. She felt a flutter of sparks somewhere near her stomach.

The moment was interrupted by a buzzing noise. A phone, yet again, although this time it was Kanan’s. He broke away and fumbled in his pocket.

“Sorry, I –” He looked at the screen and swore. “It’s Ezra, I should take this.”

Hera waited patiently while he answered the phone. She heard the panicked voice of a teenage boy on the other end, but couldn’t make out the words.

“It’s okay, calm down. I haven’t left yet, and don’t worry about it, I’ve got one you can use. Is there anything else you need? Good. I might be a little later than I said, but only a few minutes. Just try to stay calm, you’ve got nothing to worry about – remember, it’s only a practise test. I’ll see you soon.”

He put the phone down. 

“His calculator’s broken, and last-minute nerves are making everything worse,” he explained with a shrug. “I should really get going though, I didn’t realise the time.”

“Of course!” She stepped back, giving him room to move out of the kitchen. “Go, I don’t want you to be late.”

“Thanks, though. For – letting me stay.” He blushed. She found his awkwardness very endearing.

“Thanks for breakfast,” she replied with a grin.

He started making for the door, with her following. “Hey, maybe we could still get that coffee sometime?”

“Sure! Or we could do this again – dinner, I mean.” It was her turn to blush. She wasn’t exactly opposed to a repeat of their other activities, but she didn’t want him thinking that was all she was after.

He gave her a warm smile. “I’ll call you.”

He leaned down to give her a goodbye kiss in the doorway. She could tell he’d only meant it to be a quick one, but neither of them seemed inclined to stop. The kiss deepened and her arms slid around him. The sparks were back, this time with a touch of heat. She allowed herself to enjoy it for a few moments, and then firmly pushed at his chest.

“Go. Ezra’s waiting.”

He still lingered, his bright eyes gazing down at her. “Maybe I’ll see you on Monday?”

“I’d like that,” she replied softly.

Kanan pressed a final kiss to her forehead before turning to stride away down the path. She watched him go, her smile lingering on her lips. 

The sound of the door closing seemed to echo in the hallway. Now that Hera was alone, her home was a lot quieter.

No Chopper, she thought to herself. He was with Zeb, one of the few friends she’d made since moving to Lothal six months ago. She’d asked him to check in on Chop while she was out and feed him his dinner, but he’d texted her while Kanan was walking her home to say that Chopper was being clingy (translation: destructive) without her around and so he’d taken the cat home with him. 

It was sweet, especially considering that Zeb and Chopper didn’t really get along, but her friend knew how much she cared about her cat. She should probably go pick him up before Zeb did something stupid, like shave all of his fur off. She’d never known if he was serious about that threat and didn’t want to find out.

Hera did the responsible thing and finished cleaning up in the kitchen before making the short walk to Zeb’s place. She rapped on the door in her usual rhythm and didn’t have to wait long for it to be opened. Before she could even greet the lasat on the other side, a yowling streak of orange and white launched itself into her arms.

“Oof,” she grunted as she caught him. “Hello, Chop, it’s good to see you too.”

Chopper was not a small cat. It wasn’t only that he was permanently overweight from constantly managing to get into his sealed food containers, though that did play a part in it – he was also generally very large. Fortunately, Hera was well used to his way of greeting her.

Zeb sniggered from the doorway. “Morning, Hera.”

“Hey, Zeb,” she said, settling the familiar weight in her arms and straightening up. “Thanks for looking after him.”

Zeb’s expressive green eyes looked doubtful. “Not sure he’s so grateful.”

“Was he okay?”

“He was his usual self,” he replied, shrugging his huge shoulders. “He’s been waiting for you by the door since I gave him breakfast.”

“Well, he just wants to – wait, do you have guests?” She’d caught sight of rumpled blankets in the living room behind him.

“Wha’?” He turned to see what she was looking at. “Oh, yeah. Just a friend staying over. He didn’t mind Chop being around.”

“Did they get along?”

“Well, no, but come on, it’s Chopper…”

Yeah, expecting Chop to get along with a stranger was perhaps a little too optimistic. 

“Good point. It does explain why he’s so keen to get home.��� The cat was squirming in her arms, trying to get comfortable and grumbling quietly.

“So how’d the date go?” Zeb asked.

Hera couldn’t help her smile. “It was good. Really good. We had a lot in common.”

“Yeah?” There was a knowing look on his face. “Think he’s gonna make it to the third date?”

Right. Because the few times she’d tried dating before, it had never gone beyond two dates. Zeb had said she might like them more if she let them stay the night, and she’d brushed his comment off by saying she wouldn’t do that before the third date. 

“I mean, I would definitely like to go on a third date. And a second, obviously. But, uh, he doesn’t need to make it that far for, um…” She trailed off, but Zeb’s eyes widened and he smirked in an all-too-knowing way.

“Wow. Must’ve been a really good date,” he teased.

She shrugged, realising she was happy enough not to feel self-conscious. Chopper mewed indignantly at the movement. “Yeah. It was.”

“And how was the…?”

“Zeb!”

“What? Just asking. I know it’s been a while.” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

She looked away, flushing. “I’m only here to get Chopper. Maybe next time we go out for drinks, I’ll tell you about it.” 

Zeb chuckled. “Alright, so let’s talk about how I did you a favour by getting the furball out of your lekku for the night, because there’s actually something you could do for me in return. My nunaball team’s playing an away game next weekend, and the kids could use all the support they can get. It’s in Bahryn – d’you think you could make it?”

She mentally flicked through her calendar. Part of her wanted to keep the next few weekends free in case Kanan wanted another date, but she immediately rejected that idea out of impracticality. “Sure, I don’t have any plans for next weekend yet.”

“You could even bring Kanan if he’s interested. Get that second date.”

Was she really so easy to read? Or did Zeb just know her too well...

“Isn’t Bahryn the team that are your sworn enemies?” she asked, changing the subject.

“...Yeah, that might be why we need the support.”

“Alright. I’ll be there.”

He gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Hera.”

She shifted Chopper in her arms, which were starting to ache. “We’d better get back. But I’ll see you next weekend!”

“See you then!” He waved from the doorway as she turned to leave, feeling glad that it was only a short walk back.

When she let herself back in through her front door, releasing Chopper into the hall, Hera had to restrain herself from immediately checking her phone. Of course Kanan wouldn’t have sent her a message yet, he probably wasn’t even done with Ezra’s exam. Maybe she could text him – wish Ezra luck with the exam, or just straight up ask if he wanted to get lunch on Monday.

Wait… Did she even have his number? Had she given him hers? She felt her heart fall through her stomach as she realised that no, despite all their promises, they had never actually exchanged contact information.

Okay, so no texting. That was fine. She could just run into him in Jhothal on Monday. She saw him from her office window so often, it would be easy to arrange. Right?

[mars-janka]

Bluebirds

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Ship: Revalink (Revali x Link)

Word count: 4684

A/N: This piece is a work for the Revalink Valentine’s Exchange 2021 @revalinkexchange! Happy Valentine’s Day to my dear giftee @spacesephora! Thank you for providing the prompt and inspiring me; I do wish you enjoy reading my take on it!

Read on AO3

Vah Medoh was lonely.

Before the Calamity, Revali never really understood how the mechanical beast thrown under his wing worked. He was told countless times that it held a soul, but then again, he questioned himself when he was alone almost as many times as he’s heard of it, how could a stone machine be ever capable of having one? And yet despite those doubts it was one of the few things he kept to himself and never dared to speak up about it; it wasn’t like he possessed any more knowledge about ancient Sheikah technology than Purah, Robbie or even princess Zelda.

With those thoughts repressed deep inside him, Revali continued to listen to more of the scientist’s advice and theories and utilizing them later when within the divine beast. He had never once felt a presence surrounding him, making him doubt all the efforts he made to “connect” with Medoh, but nevertheless never stopped trying. It was surprising when he heard of Daruk having problems with taming Rudania. It made Revali almost paranoid, now looking over his shoulder at the slightest sound and faint feeling of something sneaking up his spine. Yet despite that, a part of him still seemed to be wary of the idea of Medoh being alive.

It changed when his own life came to a tragic end.

He no longer had any doubts. He no longer had any body, he turned into merely a presence, one that he once didn’t believe to be real. As the consciousness left his mortal, limp body, Revali felt his soul intertwine with another one, one that could only be Medoh. They became one and the same, a wicked, infested part of her threatening to infuse his mind.

He despised it; he spent his first months silent, lost in thought not bothering to speak to Medoh despite her malicious cries. Their roles switched, now he was a beast that needed taming. He isolated himself, wallowing over his lost life, cursing Hylia and pitying Hyrule’s fate all in the one of many corners of the divine beast. After a few years, his mindset changed, however. Revali realized that his soul was bound to Medoh’s forever, whether pure or cruel, and there was nothing he could do about it; he could not escape, he could not defeat her nor could he take his own life as he was already dead.

With a heavy heart he submitted to his fate and day by day, night by night the pain started to lessen.

He let himself let out everything; his fears, burdens, memories, passions. Even if Medoh was swallowed by a dark force, he still felt as if an old part of her was still there, understanding him and his emotions, something he hadn’t been graced by in a very long time. At times, he wondered if that was meant to be from the beginning; two lonely souls finding each other. Revali smiled feeling her presence, he felt content with that.

That was until Link came back from the dead.

The sheer sight of him made Revali feel a strange sensation inside of him. Watching him was strange. He had not changed, not one bit, his youthful features apparent with movements mirroring those which Revali remembered from a century ago. Despite that something felt off. He brushed it off, too interested (and too excited) in observing Link’s struggles with overcoming the difficulties he was faced with to care.

What he couldn’t ignore however was the feeling that loomed over him after he and Link had parted. The loneliness that Revali hid deep inside himself was threatening to tear trough again, its power strengthened. Medoh’s company wasn’t enough, he realized with pain. He became quieter than he was in the beginning, not daring to let his thoughts slip. Hiding from Medoh wasn’t as difficult as it used to be with his newly acquired body (he was still but a mere spirit, yet it was still much more than he could’ve ever imagined). What was, though, was hurting her.

It felt terrible yet he couldn’t make himself open up to her, straying away as far as he could. He remained distant and cold ignoring her cries, longing to see the world once again, if only for a second.

Revali was absorbed in his thoughts, looking out at Rito Village through the humongous round windows when it happened. Out of the blue, he felt some divine being wrap him in their hands and suddenly he found himself in a place, beside somebody that he expected the least to see.

It was raining terribly, and Link looked almost as shocked as he did, clinging tightly to his cloth paraglider as Revali’s spirit circled around him, wings spreading in a graceful manner, summoning an updraft that lifted them both up in only a matter of seconds. It was as if the same force as before was controlling all his movements. Revali was overwhelmed by what was happening around him, by what was happening to him. He could feel everything; the wind grazing his feathers, the rain coating them, the almost suffocating air that he breathed, the lingering smell of the ocean. It all seemed too good to be true. And for the first time in a hundred years, he felt alive, no matter how ironic that was, considering he was still very much everything but that.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Link’s, raw emotions shining through them (as though the knight could feel). He wasn’t sure if it was the force that made it impossible or if there really was something truly captivating, mesmerizing about them. He couldn’t give it another thought, however, as he felt that same bizarre, divine hands take him into their care. Panicking, he opened his beak to shout. Before any words had a change to form, his vision became blurry and in a blink of an eye he was once again reunited with the cold, indifferent interior of his divine beast.

“No!” he cried as the words found a way to escape, his wing instinctively reaching forward to grab what was left of this beautiful dream he had, only to be met with hard glass preventing him from falling down, in a moment where he wanted to fall the most, feel the wind graze his feathers once more. “No…” he said again with head pressing painfully against the window as he gradually slid down to his knees. His gaze locked at the very sight he was looking at before, his home, Rito Village. Revali felt a lump form in his throat, choking a sob. “Please,” he said, pleading to whoever who listened, voice shaking. “Please, let me out of here.”

His wish couldn’t be fulfilled, not if he was not called for by this divine force.

Which wasn’t something he expected to happen as weeks flew by. What did, however, happen was that he was left completely alone as Medoh wouldn’t be bothered by his behavior anymore. Revali couldn’t hear her cries and thoughts; she shut him off just like he wanted and yet he still found himself missing them. He would never admit that of course, whatever was left of his pride making him bottle it up inside, quietly hoping that one day the silence would break.

And finally, that day came. It was unexpected and sudden and… peculiar. The presence that Revali felt, and assumed to be Medoh, was very much unlike anything he remembered. Something about it was off, as if it couldn’t possibly be her but then again perhaps, she has changed and in doing so did the feeling of her presence as it had been a while since she has too isolated herself. Revali though was too distracted by the sheer joy that he felt in this very moment, calling Medoh’s name in his thoughts, hoping that she’d hear him and rushing through the insides of the divine beast searching for the place where he’d sense her the most.

“I’m sorry,” the thoughts echoed in his mind, as he couldn’t bear to speak, knowing that Medoh preferred them to hearing his voice. “I’m sorry I was so selfish, Medoh please forgive me.” They were running almost as fast as he was. “Give me a sign that you’re there!”

Revali was slowly but surely getting tired of participating in this cat and mouse styled game. Just as he was about to call out her name with his voice, he had felt her presence right next to him. Abruptly, he turned his head to face her and it wasn’t Medoh, oh no. For the third time in the past few months, he saw none other than Link.

He wasn’t sure whether to feel surprised, disappointed, annoyed or relieved even. He simply sighed and let his shoulders slouch back. “What are you doing here, knight?” he asked, voice harsh. “Don’t you have a world to save?” Revali was staring right into Link’s eyes intensely, nearly burning holes in them. For a short while, everything else disappeared, the world was shut out. It was only him and Link, looking, trying to solve the hidden meanings behind their mannerisms, expressions, eyes. Revali didn’t mind the sensation that it gave him, he longed for anything that helped him get his mind off his terrible afterlife.

Suddenly the wind howled, breaking the tense silence surrounding them. The sound reminded Revali of Medoh. He grunted and looked away a bit embarrassed. “A hundred years and you still hadn’t got back your tongue,” he said regaining his stance.

He was ready to dismiss the whole situation and go back to Medoh to try and search for comfort, but much to his surprise, he heard a voice, making his plan temporarily impossible. “I-,” It came out as a rasp. Revali’s eyes widened as he realized that this voice belongs to Link. “I thought that you could use some company.”

“You what?” he choked, not believing what he just heard. The feathers on his body ruffled uncontrollably, standing up from every side. He wasn’t sure whether it was because of the raspy, probably from unuse, serious tone, because of the message that the words passed, or perhaps the combination of both. The fact that he was trying his hardest to hide it, getting annoyed in the process wasn’t of any help. “What made you think so?”

For an unknown reason, some part of him expected Link to shrug and laugh in his face, saying that it was but a mere joke and yet none of that happened. He stood there, seemingly tall and proud of what he said. This time it was Revali that felt the gaze staring right into the inside of his soul. He on the other hand couldn’t bring himself to look at the knight’s face. “I know you’re lonely,” Link said, his voice now softer.

Revali let out a short awkward laugh. “I don’t know what-,” he tried to argue but was quickly (and efficiently) cut off.

“Don’t try to deny that,” his serious tone came back and Revali couldn’t help but to look at him. His gaze was as stern as his posture, both hands by his sides, curled up in fists. “I’ve seen it in your eyes, it’s written all over your face,” he started with passion, confident with his words spread only the truth. “The first time we met, when I… I don’t even know saw your… spirit?” he stumbled, probably too many thoughts flooding his little head yet still remained as passionate. “A-And now, too,” he added quickly. “You can’t hide it.”

Revali stood before him, stunned. His beak was opened slightly before it formed into a frown. “Unbelievable,” he scoffed, and more feathers ruffled on his back. “You,” he angrily pointed one finger at Link. “Have a lot of nerve coming here,” he was gesticulating wildly. “To my home, out of the blue, completely uninvited and tell me about my personal problems whilst not having resolved your own!” he huffed and took a deep breath. “Completely ridiculous.”

Link took every word that he spit at him with patience. He had closed his eyes and didn’t bother to respond. This angered Revali more, but he had no more energy to waste. “Oh, so now you won’t answer?” he waited a little while longer before realizing that it’s in vain. He turned on his foot, ready to hide in the shadows of Vah Medoh. “Classic.”

“I need your company!”

Revali stopped walking. This sentence alone sparked his interest enough to stay and listen to what Link had to say. The Hylian seemed to get the cue. “I-I am lonely too,” his voice was much quieter than only seconds ago; it was obvious that he hadn’t planned to bring this subject up and yet he still kept going. “You don’t owe me anything but,” Link sighed deeply, preparing for whatever he was about to say. “You’re the only one who understands what it’s like to truly be alone, what it’s like to be the one left behind.”

Revali could feel Link looking at him expectantly. “You’re wrong,” he heard Link take a breath. “Not that I expected anything else, but…” he turned to face him and yet didn’t look at his face, focusing on everything but him. “I am not lonely,” he stated, putting the most pressure on the third word. “And I do owe you something. My soul. And for that I-,” Revali’s eyes caught Link’s and only now he noticed the brilliant blush on his cheeks that he’s not seen before. It distracted him but he quickly shook out of it and he chose to ignore it, grunting and glancing away. “I suppose I can give the company that you crave so much.”

And ever since then, he had kept his word, as every time Link visited him, he’d embrace him with open arms. Revali had become reliant on his visits, firstly only craving any form on intimacy since Medoh was no longer an option. At times he’d even compare the divine beast to a desert since it was so desolate, empty and vacant only until Link showed up, momentarily replacing the feeling of being alone with joy upon meeting another person. Link was Revali’s escape, nothing more.

“I plan to battle with Ganon in a short time.”

Or so he had thought a while ago.

Somehow that sentence that was whispered to him made him fear more than ever. A cold shiver ran down Revali’s spine as his fingers curled up in Link’s hair stopped their movements. He felt the blonde shift on his lap, later a hand touching his face. “Is something wrong?” Link had asked, his voice concerned and soft.

Revali didn’t look at him. His heart screamed yes and yet he said “No, everything’s fine.” To assure Link, or himself really, he continued stroking his hair. He felt his heart leap, sink, do cartwheels and everything in between. He was far from being okay. He swallowed audibly. “Just… try your best to dodge his attacks.”

Link laughed and turned to face him as Revali with a smirk on his face playfully ruffled his hair. “All this time,” he said dramatically. “And you’re still doubting my abilities?”

“Never hurts to be simply remind.”

They parted soon after. They didn’t say goodbye, never did. It seemed all too serious, and all too sad. A simple wave would cut it as Link each time left Medoh in the beautiful colors of dawn. Watching him was serene, calming even despite his heart aching, begging him not to leave and the knowledge that he was about to fight the worst of nightmares, one that was a brink away from consuming the world. As Link disappeared completely from Revali’s line of sight, he took a deep breath and murmured, “I really hope you get back.” With that, he turned to hide in Medoh.

The next thing he remembered was that, for the first time in a hundred years, he woke up. His body was terribly aching, muscles sore as if all he had been doing those years were murderous exercises. He opened his eyes with a groan; though he quickly closed them when the light of the morning sun started to burn them. He couldn’t as much stand up, he couldn’t move his wings nor his legs; it was as if he was pinned to the ground, groaning from pain. It was Link who had found him, a couple days after. The knight panicked but immediately went back to the village to get help. The Rito were more than confused when they saw Revali, but they agreed to help, not knowing that the very man that they’re nursing back to health is their beloved Champion from a century prior.

The recovery was taking months and Revali slowly but surely was getting better. “I remember being alive differently than this,” he said later followed by a cough. Link smiled and leaned back in his chair looking out at the sunset. He was trying his best to visit Revali at all times, but it was not always the easiest now with princess Zelda needing his help with rebuilding the ruined kingdom.

“I’m pretty sure that the others feel the same way you do,” Link said lightheartedly to which Revali scoffed. He wasn’t the only one who was resurrected. Mipha, Urbosa and Daruk have been all reported to be very much alive as well. He had yet to see them though, but with his (and others) current, bleak state it was simply impossible. “When you’re all be looking…” Link trailed off into thought, trying to find the perfect word as Revali was glancing at him, awaiting. “…a bit better!” he finished enthusiastically. “I will invite you to visit my house in Hateno Village.”

“Now, that’s an idea,” Revali said, both intrigued and prejudiced. He thought out loud. “I wonder if the six of us will fit.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage.” And when the time came, though not without struggle, they really did. Beds, hammocks, sleeping bags and everything in between were now littering the entirety of the house’s first floor. There were also some baggage laying around, since when the guest where to put things, Link simply shrugged with a smile saying, “Throw it wherever.” From the décor Revali thought that it was clear that the knight never really got to spend much time just to sit and think, and if he did it certainly wasn’t the place.

“Sorry for the emptiness,” said shyly princess Zelda even though nobody seemed to mind (how could they when they spent the past century living in a mechanical beast?). “I’ve been trying to get more furniture but it’s hard these days.” She has been temporarily living with Link ever since the defeat of Ganon, so she must’ve felt at least partially responsible for the guests too, Revali figured.

Being in one room with so many people felt… to say the least strange. Everyone, though trying not to show, has changed in some way but that was certainly to be expected. What stayed the same however was their unique, unbreakable bond. It was clear that each and every one of them was grateful for the way the things turned out.

Silence lingered between the six, until Link decided to speak up, scratching the back of his head. “So…” he started, now getting everyone’s attention. “Does anyone fancy a quick spiced meat and mushroom skewer?” No one (with the exception of Daruk who was granted a prime rock roast) could turn down such an offer. The Champions and Zelda were very much aware of Link’s magnificent cooking skills that could turn a simple dish like this to a culinary masterpiece as when they were all recovering, he never failed to spoil them with their favorite foods.

“You’re too good to us, Link,” said Urbosa as she finished another one of the skewers. Everyone either laughed or nodded in approval. It was slowly getting darker and they sat peacefully, warmed by a fire right in front of Link’s house. The atmosphere got more relaxed with enthusiastic conversations and jokes replaced by a comfortable silence, sometimes interrupted by a yawn. The Champions started leaving the fire one by one, muttering a ‘goodnight’ in order to go to sleep.

Revali answered lazily every single one of the goodnight’s whilst being completely invested in watching the fire burn. He was very much sure that he was the only one left until he felt a warm body quickly sit right next to him. Not expecting that he was startled very much to which Link laughed. “You want to put a man who came back from the dead back to his place?”

“Not in a million years,” Link replied a sly smile playing on his lips. Revali sighed and moved a to the side slightly, giving him space to settle. He then fidgeted for quite a bit before finding the perfect spot. Revali couldn’t be bothered anymore however as he still stared into the calming flames. Link decided to join him. “Don’t you want to sleep?” he asked, nuzzling faintly into his feathers.

“Not really, no,” it took a second for him to respond. He wrapped his wing around the smaller frame of Link, something that made the knight very happy.

Link hummed happily, putting his head on Revali’s chest. “May I make a suggestion?” As an answer, Revali put his beak at the top of his head. Link stuttered at first, clearly nervous with what he was about to say. “I was-,” he took a deep breath and stopped for a moment as if to formulate the words. “There’s this, um, place that I-I’d like to show you.”

Revali quirked his brows. “Well, go on, I’m listening.”

“The thing is,” Link shifted away from him and started gesticulating. “It’s not that far away, really, but it’s far enough that we’d have to fly there and-,” he couldn’t go on as he got caught off.

“Wait, wait,” Revali took Link’s hands into his and the blonde looked at him curiously. “Did you say… fly?” Link, stunned, only nodded in response. Revali could see that he was trying his best to figure out what was wrong with flying, as to visit him in Hateno, the Champion flew straight from Rito Village. “You’re aware that the Rito have terribly bad eyesight in the dark, right?” Link’s eyes widened and Revali couldn’t help but smile at his cluelessness. “Oh my, who would’ve thought that the mighty knight needed some school time.”

Link blushed and turned away, but soon his laugh joined Revali’s. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “In that case, we can just go some other-”

“No!” Revali burst out suddenly. Realizing this, he grunted and thought of a way to explain this. “I mean- um, a little bit of adrenaline is always much appreciated in life, especially after only getting it back, right?”

Link looked at him, puzzled and skeptical. “…Right,” with the newly acquired knowledge, he wasn’t quite sure that the situation he was putting himself in was exactly safe but decided not to argue against it. “It’s only fair to fulfill a dying man’s last wish,” he said playfully to which Revali smacked his head from the back.

“I wonder who the dying man could be…” Before Link could reply with a snarkier remark, Revali got up and motioned for him to get on his back. “Come on, knight, I have a million things do to.” With that Link quickly complied and in no time Revali summoned his famous gale as they set off with the hero shouting Revali the directions and being his overall guide for the next hour or so.

It must’ve been truly tiring since the first thing Link did when they landed on the soft sandy shore of Lurelin Village was lie down, burying his face in the sand. Revali, being much less unacquainted with its texture, took time to adapt and stretch his wings after the flight. One of the first things that he noticed was that “It’s hot.”

Link lifted his face up from the sand, half of it staying on his skin. “It’s great now,” he said as he tried to get rid of the sticky sand. “It’s much worse during the day, trust me on this one.”

Revali however didn’t manage to catch the last words that Link spoken, as he had noticed something much more interesting than his voice or the temperature. His breath caught in his chest as he spoke. “It’s beautiful,” he said, completely absorbed in thought. Link, not understanding what he was on about turned his head to face him. The expression on his face was unlike whatever he’s seen before, gaze stern and focused on what was before him and Link couldn’t help but follow his gaze. The calming sound of the waves crashing against each other filled his ears as he stood up and moved to stand next to Revali.

“It really is,” admitted Link, his fingers reaching to brush against Revali’s. Despite being completely mesmerized by the sheer sight of the ocean, he reciprocated the touch. “It actually reminds me of you…”

“How come?” Revali’s eyes never left the water, whilst Link’s trailed to look at his face.

He swallowed audibly. “W-Well,” he started and Revali turned his head to face him to which in response Link panicked, shying away. “It’s really n-not that far away from where I first used your gale,” he could feel his eyes watching him intently. “The color helps too,” he quickly added and Revali chuckled.

A comfortable silence fell between the two, their hands still touching as they both went back to watching the ocean unfold before their very eyes. Revali had never felt this calm before, not even Medoh could bring him such peace, though their souls were once one and the same. But Link and Medoh were not the same. What he felt for him was different, strong and… real. And he’s come to accept it. His mind was a hurricane filled with various thoughts in that moment and yet the sudden sound of Link’s voice didn’t fail to stop them. “It’s actually my favorite place to be,” he said squeezing his hand. “I stumbled here after seeing you to process it and… it has become a habit of mine.” Revali could tell he was speaking from the bottom of his heart, and suddenly his own started to ache. “It’s become a place I visit just to… think and feel less… alone.”

Revali felt as if he was frozen even though he could tell that Link was expecting some sort of response. And yet he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. It was only when he felt his grip loosening and breathing quicken that he managed to as much hold his hand tighter. He could feel Link first tense, then relax; perhaps it was enough for him. But certainly not for Revali.

He turned to face him and cupped his face. “Link I-,” Revali started but his wide, blue eyes, looking at him as if he was the most important thing in this world, made him lower his gaze for a moment. He swallowed audibly and looked at him again, this time truly confident.

“I love you.”

The words hanged in the air and for a brink of a moment Revali’s whole life flashed before his eyes as he regretted saying those words, knowing that it would never be possible for someone like Link to love him. He panicked and wanted to run away but before he could as much as turn, Link’s voice echoed in his mind.

“I love you too,” he admitted with tears in his eyes and suddenly Revali noticed his own water. Link couldn’t take it anymore as he buried his face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Revali instinctively wrapped his wings around him, pulling him closer and letting his own tears fall.

It really was beautiful; two lonely people finding happiness in each other as the sun rose behind them.

Another A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you have the best of days!

[dweemeister]

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953)

Theodore Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss, remains best-known for his children’s books. The Cat in the Hat; Green Eggs and Ham; and Oh, the Places You’ll Go! are household names in English-language literature. Seuss’ bibliography overshadows his work in films, beginning with the adapted screenplay of his own book, The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins (1943) – directed by George Pal as part of the Puppetoons series. During WWII, Seuss was heavily involved in propaganda films and the Private Snafu (1943-1946) military training films. After the war’s end, Seuss returned to writing children’s books, but also continued to write for movies. The Academy Award-winning animated short film Gerald McBoing-Boing (1950) benefitted from Seuss’ story work, and Seuss’ success there inspired him to write a screenplay for a live-action fantasy film. That screenplay – the unwieldy rough draft coming in at over 1,200 pages – was The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. The eventual movie, produced by Stanley Kramer (1960’s Inherit the Wind, 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg) and directed by Roy Rowland (1945’s Our Vines Have Tender Grapes, 1956’s Meet Me in Las Vegas) for Columbia Pictures, would be Seuss’ only involvement in a non-documentary feature film.

Like many who speak English as their first language, Dr. Seuss’ books graced my early childhood. So integral to numerous children’s youth is Seuss that his whimsy, wordplay, and authorial stamps are easily recognizable. In that spirit, the cinematic record of live-action Seuss adaptations consists of the scatological Jim Carrey in How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) and the visual nightmare that is Mike Myers as The Cat in the Hat (2003). Compared to the original works, both films are ungainly, casually cruel, and overcomplicated. Not promising company for Dr. T. But even taking into account the three animated feature adaptations of Seuss – Horton Hears a Who! (2008), The Lorax (2012), and The Grinch (2018) – and the fact that Columbia forced wholesale deletions from the rough draft script of Dr. T to achieve a feasible runtime, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is arguably the most faithful feature adaptation to Dr. Seuss’ authorial intent and signature aesthetic.

In other words, this is one of the strangest films you may ever encounter. No synopsis I could write in one paragraph will ever capture the film’s bizarreries.

Little Bart Collins (Tommy Rettig) is asleep during piano practice and his teacher, Dr. Terwilliker (Hans Conried), is furious. His overworked, widowed mother Heloise (Mary Healey) intuits Terwilliker’s unrealistic expectations (Terwilliker wants to teach the next Paderewski) towards Bart’s piano skills and inability to concentrate. Heloise also appears to be quietly eyeing the plumber August Zabladowski (Peter Lind Hayes) and his wrench. With the lesson done for the day, Bart falls asleep again. This time, he dreams that Terwilliker is now the leader of the Terwilliker Institute, a pianist supremacy mini-state which is built upon five hundred young pianist slave boys (hence, 5,000 fingers) forcibly playing Terwilliker’s latest compositions. His mother is Terwilliker’s unwilling, hypnotized assistant and plumber August Zabladowski (Hayes is essentially playing the same character, but in a different world) is Bart’s only ally around. Together, Bart and Mr. Zabladowski must evade the Institute’s guards as they attempt to undermine Terwilliker’s plans for his next concert.

In its final form, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is a muddled mess of a story. The analogues between Bart’s reality and his dreams are inconsistent, several would-be subplots never resolve (or at the very least develop beyond a basic idea), and the film’s initial lightness is subject to rapid mood swings that make this picture feel disjointed. Indeed, Seuss’ sprawling social commentary in his first draft – including allegories and themes of post-WWII totalitarianism, anti-communism, and atomic annihilation – is in tatters in this final product. The viewer will witness brief fragments of those ideas, remaining in this movie as the barest of hints of the contents of the original screenplay’s rough draft. Even now, Dr. T inspires psychiatric analyses and accusations that Bart’s relationship with his mother reveals signs of an Oedipal complex (to yours truly, the latter is too much of a reach). The grim nature of Terwilliker Institute renders Dr. T unsuitable for the youngest children. For older children and adults, try going into this movie without expectations of narrative logic and embrace the grotesque aspects that only Seuss could imagine.

If my attempts to describe this movie’s preposterousness through its narrative and screenwriting approach have failed, perhaps I can capture that for you by writing on its technical features.

For its sheer narrative inventiveness – inconsistencies, abrupt tonal shifts, nonsense, and Rowland’s uninspired direction aside – The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is nevertheless an ambitious film, and Columbia bequeathed a hefty budget to match that ambition. Much of that budget went to the film’s visuals. This is an extravagantly-staged motion picture, as nothing could do Dr. Seuss’ illustrations justice without fully committing to his geometric impossibilities: skyward ladders and improbable connections between rooms, an eschewal of right angles and straight lines, and architecture bound to raise the ire of physics teachers. One could compare this to German Expressionism, but Dr. T’s sets tend not to dictate the film’s mood nor are they subject to high-contrast lighting. Seuss went uncredited as the concept artist on Dr. T, and it was up to Clem Beauchamp (1935’s The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, 1952’s High Noon) and the uncredited matte artists to commit those visuals to the real world. Outside of animated film, Beauchamp and the matte artists succeed in creating twisted sets that seem to leap off the pages of Seuss’ most artistically interesting books. Some of the sets appear too stagebound, but the production design accomplishes its need to resemble a world borne from a fever dream (or, at least, a young pianist’s nightmare).

This movie’s outrageous costume design (other than Jean Louis’ gowns for Mary Healey, the costume designer/s for this film are uncredited) comprises absurd uniforms and two of the most ludicrous hats – the “happy fingers” cap (see photo at the top of this write-up) and whatever the hell Terwilliker dons in the film’s climax – one might ever see in a film. Most of the costumes are laughably impractical and ridiculous to even those without fashion sense. In what might be the tamest example, while working under Terwilliker, Bart’s mother wears a suit that is all business formal on the left-hand side and bare-shouldered, sleeveless, and nightclub-y on the right. The delineation of real life – which barely features in the film’s eighty-nine minutes – and this world of Bart’s dreams could not be any more unambiguous thanks to the combination of the production and costume design work.

The disappointing musical score by Fredrich Hollaender (1930’s The Blue Angel, 1948’s A Foreign Affair) and song lyrics by Seuss rarely connects to the larger narrative unfolding. Seven songs make the final print, with nine (yikes!) Hollaender-Seuss songs ending up on the cutting room floor. Seuss’ wordplay is evident, as are Hollaender’s melodic flourishes. Columbia, a studio not known for its musicals, assembled a 98-piece orchestra – the largest musical ensemble to work on a Columbia film at the time – for The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T alone. That lush sound is apparent throughout for the numerous nonsense songs that color the score in addition to the incidental score. It is unusual to listen to a collection of novelty songs orchestrated so fully. Listen to “Dressing Song: Do-Mi-Do Duds” and its complicated, seeming unsingable lines:

Come on and dress me, dress me, dress me In my peek-a-boo blouse With the lovely inner lining made of Chesapeake mouse! I want my polka-dotted dickie with the crinoline fringe For I'm going doe-me-doe-ing on a doe-me-doe binge!

The rich orchestration seems to hail from a more lavish film. But too many of these songs are scene-specific, and rarely does Hollaender utilize musical quotations from these songs into his score. “Get Together Weather” is delightful, but it seems so isolated from the rest of the film; elsewhere, “The Dungeon Song” exemplifies a macabre side to Seuss seldom appearing in his books. Nevertheless, Hollaender is able to demonstrate his playfulness across the entire film, none moreso during any scene with the bearded, roller-skating twins and the “Dungeon Ballet”, in which the music complements stunning choreography and fascinating props that recall the jingtinglers, floofloovers, tartookas, whohoopers, slooslunkas, and whowonkas from the Christmas television special How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1966). Yet, Hollaender’s film score and the soundtrack with Seuss seems to demand something – anything – to tie the entire compositional effort together. Perhaps a song or some cue like that was cut from the film, which is ultimately to its detriment.

Hans Conried (who starred as Captain Hook in Disney’s Peter Pan several months prior to Dr. T’s release) stands out from a decidedly average Peter Lind Hayes and Mary Healey – Hayes and Healey, in a sort of in-joke, were married. Conried’s performance as the sadistic, torture- and imprisonment-happy music teacher can be considered camp, but this is anything but “bad” camp. He throws himself completely into this cartoonish role, sans shame, complete with mid-Atlantic accent, and topped off with exaggerated facial and physical acting that fits this fantasy. As Bart, child actor Tommy Rettig (best known as Jeff Miller on the CBS television series Lassie) seems more assured in his performance than most child performers his age during the 1950s. His fourth wall-breaking asides seem more appropriate in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but Rettig makes it work, and inhabits Bart’s flaws wonderfully.

Columbia demanded numerous reworkings of Seuss’ script, leading to several reshoots – most notably the opening scene (Seuss opposed the conceit of Bart’s dream framing the film) – and a ballooning budget. Upon its release in the summer of 1953, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T bombed at the box office and was assailed by critics. A crestfallen Seuss, who could not stand the production difficulties that beset the film from the start of shooting, would never work in feature films again. He would dedicate himself almost entirely to writing and illustrating children’s books, with many of his most popular titles (including The Cat in the Hat, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, and Green Eggs and Ham) published within a decade of Dr. T’s critical and commercial failure. His hesitance to participate in filmmaking informed his reluctance to allow Chuck Jones to adapt How the Grinch Stole Christmas! thirteen years later. Animation suited his books, Seuss thought, and he would never again pay any consideration to live-action filmmaking.

The reevaluation of The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T has seen a rehabilitation of the film’s image in recent decades. Home media releases and television showings have introduced the film to viewers not influenced by the hyperbolic negativity of the film critics working in 1953. This is not a sterling example of Old Hollywood fantasy filmmaking, due to a heavily gutted screenplay, scattershot thematic development, and incongruent musical score. Yet, the movie’s surrealistic charms and Seussian chaos know no peers, even in the present day.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[kannra21]

Haru Kato x Reader 💗

I'm sad that there's no Haru x reader hcs/scenarios so I wrote smtng to make y'all's day *PS it gets kinda dirty but nothing happens lol*. Hope you enjoy!

It was on a cold cloudy afternoon that y/n decided to go on a little stroll through the nature. She already informed her family about it and took her phone just in case, because let's be honest, who in today's world doesn't have a phone with themselves? She put on her favorite pair of boots and a jacket her mother often complained about. So what if it wasn't thick enough? She loved the jacket and guys would usually give her the looks whenever she crossed paths with them. She loved the attention, that brought her in trouble most of the time.

She entered the snow-covered forest, a place she knew and paths that led to the unknown. However, the curiosity took the best of her so she continued through the branches that lay on the ground and the stones that challenged her. Going for a little adventure wasn't such a bad thing, exploring her surroundings was supposed to be a positive experience. Every once in a while a person grows tired with responsibilities, sometimes people wander around in order to avoid facing the boring part of their lives. It was relaxing and the fresh air cooled away her worries. As much as she appreciated the bird's singing in the distance, y/n put on her headphones and listened to her favorite music. The crunching of snow no longer bothered her and a little penetration through it brought a smile on her face. The place was quiet and peaceful and she loved the way everything looked so much more beautiful thanks to the icicles shining from the pine woods. I mean, holy cow! Sometimes she forgot to just stop and take it all in.

And nothing could ever compare to that awestrucking view on the other side of the hill. The landscape was covered in beautiful combinations of white, blue and black and y/n couldn't help herself but to feel amazed. This was soooo going to end up on her Instagram profile. Her friend would be absolutely devastated upon seeing it, she should be sorry for not joining her when she called and y/n enjoyed every bit of it. She approached and climbed a wrecked tree to catch a better picture, her hands were a little shaky and the cool air sent chills though her body. Mom was always right about everything. Screw it.

She took a step further and, unfortunately, the crust she was standing on was so slippery that her leg moved away and she fell into a trapping pit. Her body hurt a little but otherwise she regained herself, everything seemed to be fine, she was okay and she comforted herself, until she tried to move her left leg but to no avail. She was in so much pain and she felt like screaming. It wasn't fair and the tears started to gather in her eyes. She felt cold and her pants and jacket were soaked from being covered in the snow thanks to the awkward fall.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! What the fuck was the goddamn pit even doing here? It seemed like the freaking hunters forgot to clean after their stupid ass selves. And rangers never reported the losers in the first place. Screw them! Screw them all!... But then she laughed under her breath. Who was she kidding? It was her who was so stupidly clumsily that she couldn't keep her fucking balance. Maybe she messed up her leg for a reason? Was she punished by some higher ass force for her stupid deeds? Of course, she was so goddamn stupid and she hated herself. The pain and the cold never ceased to leave her body and she rubbed her hands together.

And then she remembered something, her phone! She tried to find it somewhere, anywhere around the place but after 5min of thorough searching she concluded that it wasn't there, that it landed somewhere around the pit and y/n felt like loosing all the hope that still remained in her.

Hopeless and disappointed, y/n squeezed into herself and, having no other choice, endured the pain and waited for someone to save her. She yelled and yelled for help in case someone was walking nearby but after so many times of persistently trying to attract someone's attention, she decided to give up because she only grew weaker and colder.

She didn't even know how much the time has passed and she felt so tired that everything she wanted to do was fall asleep but she tried to keep herself awake. She didn't want to pass out just yet. Y/n continued blowing warm air on her hands, hoping to keep herself warm. She often watched on the television how professional survivers kept themselves warm by doing all kinds of exercises. Since y/n couldn't walk, she stretched the rest of her upper body but it didn't feel any better. The more she stretched, the colder she felt. She was also afraid of sweat freezing her skin so she decided to sit like that, pinned to the wall as much as possible to at least keep her back covered.

Fuck her and her fucked ass life. She started to overthink things. How she let her family and her friends down. Everyone who loved and cared for her so dearly will hear about the news, that is, if anyone manages to find her and her dead body lying on the ground all frozen. She replayed her entire life in her head and y/n felt like crying again. She slowly but surely lost all the expectations of returning home alive.

After a while of quiet sobbing she heard someone's steps nearing her place and shouting her name. Y/n grew alert.

"I'm here!! I'm here!! Oh God please help me out please!" she exclaimed desperately.

A guy with light brown hair and golden eyes peered from the corner of the pit. His hair looked somewhat unruly and styled with messy and loose bangs framing his face.

"So you're Y/N! Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Well duh Sherlock, how do you think I ended up here? The pit is at least 5m deep! And I rolled down that hill over there!"

Haru flinched, he didn't like the tone of her voice. "Everything is going to be fine, try to calm down and take my hand.", he got to his knees and leaned forward to reach her.

Y/n tried to stand up one more time but the immense pain pierced through her once again and she screamed.

"What happened?!" Haru grew concerned.

"I.. I can't stand on my left leg. It hurts so much."

"Alright, stay where you are. I'll try to-" as Haru was about to turn from leaning from his previous position, his hand slipped and, losing the support, he fell into the pit and groaned in discomfort. Y/n couldn't believe her own eyes. The only person who could help her in this very moment got trapped together with her. She didn't know if she should laugh or cry, she felt like losing her mind.

"Y/n, it isn't as bad as you think. Here, I took my ph-" Haru looked at his phone and noticed that it got broken from falling to the ground full force.

Y/n started sobbing and Haru jumped in surprise. He felt really bad and hugged her to calm her down. "I know you're in pain and I know how harsh it must be to stay down here for such a long time, but everything is going to be okay. Your parents already informed the police and we were searc-"

"My parents called the police?!" y/n shouted in surprise.

"Yes they noticed you've been absent longer than usual so they sent us to search after you."

"Wait. You're a police officer?"

"Yea I'm sorry for not wearing the classic black uniform you people got so used to. Things happened and I-"

"iactuallythinkthatyou'rekindahot"

"What?"

"nevermind"

Haru blushed and y/n tried to change the topic.

"How did you manage to find me?"

"I barely caught your location through your phone so I followed it, but the signal got interrupted every once in a while because we're in the middle of the forest after all so let's say that it was the sheer luck that I managed to find y-"

Y/n started tearing again and Haru panicked "I mean it's not the luck that helped me, you have to believe me! Look, my colleagues are already searching for us so they'll definitely find us!"

"Yes but how long will it take them to do so?"

"..." Haru felt really bad for her, he tried to make her feel better but even he wasn't so sure how to do it. "They're professionals so don't worry. They'll come here soon."

"I hope you're right.." y/n squeezed into herself once again and hid her face between her crossed hands. "Why do I always need to mess everything up? Because of me you ended up trapped as well."

"Please don't blame yourself, I ended up here because of my own clumsiness.. Man I'm such a klutz."

"We're both like walking disasters."

They laughed and Haru continued the conversation to pass the time. He talked about himself and the tragic thing that happened which led him to leave the First Division and join the MCPTF. He also talked about Daisuke and all the things that annoyed him about his partner, but in the end he concluded that he believes that he's not so bad despite his wealthy background.

Y/n fell more in love the further she listened to him. He was so kind, humanistic and just. He always paid attention to other people's needs and risked his life on many occasions to protect others. He's passionate about his work and he's really sympathetic, even towards those who didn't deserve it.

"You're such a nice person Haru. Just like a guardian angel." y/n smiled.

"R-really? I don't hear this often haha!" he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

"It's true. Why are you being so modest? You should appreciate yourself more."

"I think it’s for the best if only one of us has an ego. Because, if I were of the same nature, I don't know how Kambe would react. He is a difficult person."

"I think you're too good for him. Try to give him a taste of his own medicine."

"You want to corrupt me? You're the bad girl type or something?" Haru teased and y/n blushed.

"N-no I just think that you deserve more respect from him." y/n fiddled with her fingers and Haru smiled, he found her little quirks so adorable.

"I think that you're a beautiful person as well, Y/n."

The air between them became tense and they blushed.

"Thank you Haru, I'm glad you think so."

Y/n talked about herself as well, her job, family and friends and how she ended up in the pit in the first place. She tried to stand up again but it still hurt her and she hissed in pain.

"You shouldn't force yourself. Here, take my jacket."

"You want me to put the jacket over a jacket? But what about you? You'll only stay in your shirt."

"I don't mind. My top priority right now is to make sure that you come home safe and sound and in order to do this, I need to keep you warm."

"But-"

"No buts." Haru took off his jacket, wrapped her up, lifted her closer to him and put her into his lap.

"W-w-what are you doing?!!" y/n bonked him on the head and he yelped in pain.

"It's better if you sit on me than on the cold hard floor, you're going to get sick. Besides, I can easily warm you up like this so you don't catch hypothermia."

"Oh.. sorry about that."

"It's okay. Look, I understand how you feel right now but I'm not trying to harm you in any way. I already told you everything about myself and I'm not a weirdo. You can trust me."

"Aight aight." Y/n smiled and shifted closer this time. Haru, being the pure guy he was, probably didn't notice how this position made her feel so she wanted to let him know.

She further adjusted in his lap and leaned completely against him, with Haru's head lying on her left shoulder and taking her hands in his bigger ones, rubbing and warming them up.

The close proximity between them was unreal and Y/n smirked at him from the corner of her face.

"Just so you know, this is a very professional behavior." Haru defended himself and y/n felt like breaking into laughter."

"However you say, Mr. Police officer." she whispered in his ear, lips touching the earlobe with every word she spoke and it took him all self-control in this world not to go wild just from that small gesture.

He succeeded at keeping his cool but he didn't succeed at keeping his cool down there and y/n teased him further until he couldn't sit like this anymore.

"Okay okay I get it. Let me think.. try to change positions." Y/n stood up and sat in front of him this time, legs crossed behind his back and hugging him around the torso.

"Warmer~" y/n hummed in delight.

"Y-y/n.. do you really have to put your legs like this?"

"Whoops my bad." she took her leg and threw it over the other, making them face the same direction. Now she was leaning on his left hand, head lying under his own. It was the posture they were both satisfied with and although he could warm her like this, Haru had other problems.

The strain on his suit pants refused to subdue and y/n's hair felt so soft and smelled so nice to him. He became warmer in the face. What was going on with him?

Y/n could feel how stiff and nervous he was so she lifted her head to look at him but his eyes were averted to the other side.

"Is everything alright? Can I help?"

Haru couldn't help himself but to be honest, otherwise he'd just look like an idiot "It's.. not every day that I hold such a beautiful girl in my lap." He looked red and he was breathing heavily. "I'm sorry.. it's just that-"

She stood up from her previous position and sat between him this time.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly. Y/n took his face in her hands and kissed him carefully which surprised both of them.

What seemed to be a soft passionate exchange soon turned into something rougher, with hands roaming through their bodies and tongues colliding. Haru turned her around and pinned her to the wall.

"This is *sigh* a very bad idea *sigh*".

"Why? Are you seeing someone?"

"No."

"Neither do I." she took him for the collar of his shirt and they made out. Their movements became more frantic and Haru felt a twinge of guilt dawning on him.

"I don't want to hurt you.." he whispered, excitement running through him. "It's hard to suppress myself when I feel like this."

"Why? What do you feel?"

"I.." Haru stopped, his thoughts jumbled inside. "I'm so in love with you and we just met. I mean, it's not like you're a compete stranger since we introduced ourselves and said things about ourselves. You're a beautiful person y/n, and I'm afraid of betraying your trust."

"Haru, there's nothing to be worried about."

"Are you sure about this? Honey this is a big thing."

"Honey huh?" Y/n teased and he hid his face in her neck, embarrassment taking the best of him.

She kissed his hair and hugged him around the neck. "I love you too, Haru. You're the best thing that happened to me."

He took advantage of their position and sucked on her neck, earning a moan from her. As he kissed down her collar bone and she unbuttoned his shirt, they heard someone coughing from above and they froze.

"You're supposed to help a civilian in trouble, Kato-keibu."

Haru stumbled back on the snow in surprise. "I-It's not.. Where were you?! We were waiting for you in ages!"

"HEUSC managed to determine the location despite the signal interference. Seems like you succeeded in finding a nice occupation to fill the time gap."

"It's called body warmth, Kambe."

"I'm sure that body warmth doesn't look like that." Daisuke smirked and Haru looked angry.

"So you're Daisuke Kambe, right?" y/n asked and Daisuke analysed her face with his high tech glasses.

"Yes and you're the person we're searching for. Kato, what are you doing down there besides snogging?"

"Kambe I swear, I slipped awkwardly and fell. Can you grab her with anything to help her get out of here? She sprained her ankle and can't move much."

Daisuke's mechanic hands protruded from his specially-equipped suit and he hoisted them up to the safety.

"Thanks I guess." Haru brushed the snow off of himself and sneezed.

Y/n looked at his unbuttoned shirt and she quickly buttoned it up, blushing from embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, you can take your jacket back."

"No this is staying on you." He turned his back to her and squatted a little. "Get on, you can't walk this far by yourself."

"A-are you sure?" y/n asked worried.

"It's going to be okay." he smiled at her reassuringly and she complied.

Daisuke watched them from behind and thought about Haru's smile, it wasn't the same as when he looked at Suzue for the first time during their Isezaki mission. His partner was in love and he didn't know why but he found the fact pretty entertaining.

[agapaic]

tianshan top gun-AU drabble. 💞 on behalf of emma’s very generous donation to the ‘justice for jacob blake fund’ @plumb19. if you would like to donate to an organisation supporting black lives in return for a drabble, please see here for more information (closes monday evening). 🌸

///

‘No visual on Farmer! I repeat, no visual on Farmer!’

He Tian’s laugh comes through his headgear. ‘You don’t need a visual on me, sweetheart! This is a race not an op—there’s no bandit here but me!’

Guan Shan grits his teeth. He goes full throttle, flies blind. The finish line is in sight, ten miles out at his twelve o’clock. He can feel his face pulling backwards with the speed, the G-force making him lightheaded. He can’t g-LOC now—he’d die from the shame of acting out the funky chicken before his plane even hit the ground. He Tian will know what happened—he’ll see the Firebird jet tail out, the vape from the tail end stretching skywards.

Faster—fucking faster.

Guan Shan’s eyes dart to his mirrors. All clear. Where the fuck is He Tian? He can’t be ahead of him—there’s no way Guan Shan could go any faster. He’s got the jet firewalled, his head mashed backwards against the headrest. His bones are shaking; his teeth are aching.

He Tian again: ‘Right above you, sweetheart.’

Guan Shan’s head jerks up. He doesn’t know why he bothers looking. There’s nothing there but the roof of the jet: no window. He Tian’s a ghost on his radar.

‘The fuck do you think you are?’ Guan Shan spits, eye locked back on the finish line. The engine roars in his ears. ‘Fuckin’ God?’

He Tian laughs again. Guan Shan doesn’t hate that He Tian’s enjoying this—he hates that he’s enjoying it too. Why shouldn’t he? It’s a game, not a dogfight, and the winner chooses the reward. There’s no bogey or bandit on their trail, no spike on the radar. When’s the last time he got to go full throttle without the fear of a strike?

‘Come on, Guan Shan,’ He TIan croons through the headset. ‘We’re nose for nose.’

‘Are you even tryin’?’ Guan Shan barks back.

‘You should see my hand,’ says He Tian. ‘It’s never wrapped tighter around a stick before.’

Guan Shan swears under his breath. He Tian must hear it: he laughs.

Two miles.

‘Just—get off my back, would’ya?’ he grouches out. ‘Wanna see your face when I beat you over the finish line.’

‘Oh, Ah-Shan. You know I like to finish on top.’

Guan Shan veers.

There’s a damning thud, an awful shriek of metal. He Tian swears over the comms. Everything shakes and the engine judders as the underbelly of each jet scrapes against each other. The sky swings above him, pendulum-like, and an alarm blares somewhere.

Out the corner of Guan Shan’s eye, he sees He Tian’s jet wrench itself away. The Shenyang J-6 sidles up beside his own, evening out. He Tian’s face is shielded by his helmet and the high-alt oxygen mask, but Guan Shan imagines his mouth split open in a wide, white-toothed smile.

Fucker.

‘Daring,’ He Tian comments over the radio, his voice crackling. ‘Nearly took me out with that move. Yourself included.’

Guan Shan breathes shallowly. His heart is beating fast, and he wrestles it under 110. If it goes too high or flatlines Zhan Zhengxi will call in the cavalry from the base.

‘I’m not above playin’ dirty,’ Guan Shan mutters.

‘Oh, I know. You’re not a grape, Mo Guan Shan. Bigger balls than anyone gives you credit for.’

You’d like to think so.

‘At least,’ says He Tian, ‘I’d like to think so.’

700 yards. They’re at break-neck now. A final bend through airspace, and Guan Shan will be over the finish line. His face has started to go numb. He’s conscious only of the pressure in his ears, behind his eyes. Feels like bruising in his eye sockets. His knuckles must be bone-white beneath the gloves.

500 yards from the turn. Guan Shan bites down hard on his lower lip. The jet rattles around him like an earthquake in flight. If he leaves it too late he’ll veer off path and lose seconds he knows he wouldn’t recover. Too early and he might force the jet straight into He Tian’s and they could both go down.

‘You gonna tell me your action plan?’ asks Guan Shan, teeth gritted.

‘Oh, no. I’m leaving this all to you.’

Guan Shan swears, eyes on the blue-skied horizon. 200 yards. ‘Even if I kill us both.’

‘I think you know how to punch out if it gets too much.’

Now. Guan Shan yanks down hard on the controller, the skyline swerves around him; nausea wells in his throat. There’s no collision; he has no visual on He Tian’s jet and no time to wonder why that might be. He makes the turn, levels out, throttles forward to the finish line.

The base comes into view below him, and a green light blinks up at him from ATC like a traffic light.

He’s done it.

Guan Shan throws his head back against the headrest, breathes out shallowly.

A voice comes over the comms. ‘This is Mother to Firebird. Mother to Firebird. How do you hear me?’

‘I hear you,’ Guan Shan says thickly. He starts to drop, pulls back the throttle. He’ll have to do a loop of the base to line up with the runway. He doesn’t mind the victory lap.

There’s a smile in Zhan Zhengxi’s voice. ‘Cleared to land at your leisure. How does first place feel?’

Guan Shan swallows a grin. ‘Affirmative,’ he says. ‘Feels pretty fuckin’ good.’ He checks his mirrors. ‘Where the fuck is Farmer?’

‘Uh, he hasn’t crossed yet. Looks like he pulled back at the finish. Problem with his radar, I think? Jian Yi’s working him through it.’

Guan Shan’s mouth falls open. ‘Bullshit,’ he gasps. ‘Bull. Shit.’

‘Don’t shoot the messenger. Take it up with him.’

Guan Shan glares. He can feel his vision narrowing. He has half a mind to turn the jet around and shoot He Tian down for the sheer fucking hell of it—a fox two, maybe a three if he’s lucky. Guan Shan’s fingers go to the triggers. How fucking dare he?

‘Firebird, did you copy?’

Guan Shan sets his jaw. ‘Affirmative,’ he says flatly.

Take it up with him? He’d better fucking bet.

///

There’s a view of the runway from the changing rooms, a long strip of glass that means Guan Shan knows the exact moment He Tian’s Shenyang J-6 touches down on tarmac and pulls into the hangar. It means, also, he knows exactly how long it will take He Tian—second-place DNF loser—to walk through the base to the changing rooms.

It takes He Tian twenty minutes to land the jet and make his way to the changing room. Twenty minutes for Guan Shan to simmer and get himself close to boiling. The second He Tian walks through the door, he tips over. Guan Shan’s helmet smashes against the floor in fragments of plastic, metal, and glass.

The helmet nearly strikes He Tian in the face, but his reflexes are good. He dodges, swears, looks back to Guan Shan with wide, incredulous eyes. Glass crunches beneath his boot as he moves over to the ceiling-to-floor lockers.

‘Those are expensive, you know?’ He Tian says.

Guan Shan doesn’t care about a fucking helmet. He Tian’s father can foot the bill, mark it off as an extraneous expense. Being the commander of the base has its perks.

‘You fuckin’ fixed it.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ says He Tian, stripping off his gloves. ‘There was a malfunction. Probably after you rammed into me, I suspect.’

‘You let me win,’ Guan Shan growls.

He Tian shrugs. ‘Check the black box if you like. It’s all there.’

‘Who’d you pay to wire it?’

He Tian begins to unbuckle his suit. The black leather sticks to his body like a second skin, suggesting at lean muscle and broad shoulders that bare themselves as He Tian peels back its layers. Nothing about it is standard-issue. It’s been made to fit like a glove. Guan Shan hates it.

‘I didn’t pay anyone, Mo Guan Shan.’

‘Right. You didn’t have to. People will suck your dick around here for a look.’

He Tian looks at him.

Guan Shan snarls. ‘What the fuck do you even get by losing? Are you that fuckin’ desperate to disappoint him?’ He shoves a thumb upwards. Not God, but He Tian’s father, and doesn’t everyone act like he’s the same thing? ‘Fuck me over and bring shame on the family name? Two birds and one stone?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ He Tian sighs.

‘Fuck, I wanna kill you right now.’

‘Go on, then. Try.’

‘What’s the point?’ Guan Shan sneers. ‘You’ll punch out at the last second. Blame the faulty mechanics.’

A thought strikes him: he could punch him. A realisation: he’s going to.

Five concentrated footsteps, the swing back of his right arm.

His knuckles bruise on He Tian’s cheekbone.

‘Fuck!’ He Tian shouts. He spits blood onto the floor, doubles over at the waist. Guan Shan steps back and his eyes go to the sharp nodules of He Tian’s spine as he bends over, curved out like a penitent. Guan Shan looks at him with disgust.

‘You didn’t even fight back,’ he mutters. ‘Who the fuck has you whipped?’

There’s blood coming from He Tian’s nose; some of it has spattered onto the toe of Guan Shan’s boot. He Tian, Guan Shan realises, is laughing.

‘You’d think—oh, fuck me—you’d think it would be fucking obvious, wouldn’t you?’

Guan Shan stares at him. ‘This ain’t fuckin’ funny—’

‘But it is.’ He Tian winces, straightens, dabs two fingertips against his bloodied nose. ‘You’re a good fucking pilot, Mo Guan Shan, but you are awful with analytics. Never go into the Intelligence sector, okay?

Riddles and disguise. Guan Shan hates it. There’s some truth to He Tian’s words, but he’s glad for it: he’s glad he doesn’t get it. Glad he can’t deal with conundrum and complexity. In the ten years they’ve been at this—flight school, their junior years, coming close to leading, wingmen by virtue of their shared skills—he’s never stopped hating the enigma He Tian enjoys wrapping himself around like a coat keeping him warm through the winter.

‘I don’t have time for this.’

He turns to his locker; he’ll take his clothes back to his room, save changing for somewhere that rHe Tian can see him. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He clicks in the combination, tugs the door open with a metallic clank. A hand falls to the locker beside him, just brushing the side of his head, and Guan Shan can feel the heat of He Tian’s bare chest through the fabric over his back.

Guan Shan swallows. ‘Move.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘I’ll hit you again.’

‘I might put up a fight this time—even if it’s you.’

Guan Shan stills. ‘The fuck is that supposed to mean?’

‘What do you think?’

Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. ‘Tell me. Please, just fuckin’ tell me.’ Put me outta my misery.

He Tian’s mouth is level with his ear, and Guan Shan shudders as hot air moves across his neck. He Tian is too close. Guan Shan’s body still aches from the G-force, a strain that will last through the night, but he can’t distinguish it from anything else that might be bruising its way through his narrow veins like swallowing a tablet dry. Guan Shan puts his forehead on the frame of his open locker; the metal is cool to his skin.

‘Why do you think,’ He Tian murmurs, silken, ‘I would make sure you won?’

‘I don’t—’

‘Why do you think,’ he says, ‘I’d let you hit me if that’s what you wanted?’

If that’s what you wanted.

Guan Shan’s voice is tight. ‘I never wanted to win if you made yourself lose.’

There’s a pause. He Tian says, ‘You said you’d quit if you lost. Before the race. You said you’d move somewhere else if you couldn’t be number one here.’

Guan Shan frowns. ‘I was—that was a joke. I was just settin’ the stakes.’

He Tian moves. He’s a few paces back when Guan Shan turns to face him. His expression is unreadable, and Guan Shan’s head is working on overdrive trying to keep track of the conversation and all its hidden nuance.

‘Are you sayin’—you did that to keep me from leavin’? You seriously thought I’d quit over some stupid race?’

‘It wasn’t a stupid race. It was you and me—’

‘I’m never gonna be as fast as you,’ says Guan Shan slowly. ‘You’re never gonna be as good a shot as me. I know where we’re strong and I know where we’re not. I’m not gonna quit ‘cause of some stupid competition with you.’

‘But I didn’t know that.’

Guan Shan swallows. There’s a heat to He Tian’s words that blisters. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s conscious that He Tian is half-dressed before him and that there’s blood drying on his chin.

‘I’m not leavin’,’ Guan Shan tells him, feeling oddly inclined to reassure him. He Tian. The stalwart bastard who never gives him a break. Guan Shan can’t stop himself: ‘I’m—we’re a good team. General Qiu said we’re one of the best this fuckin’ base has seen in twenty years.’

‘You hate being my wingman,’ He Tian says flatly.

Guan Shan’s eyebrow quirks. ‘I get first seat watchin’ you fuck up and take none of the damage.’

He Tian drags a hand over his face. ‘God, he’s good,’ he mutters to himself. Louder, he says, ‘So if you weren't quitting if you lost, what did you want if you won?’

‘Probably the same as you,’ says Guan Shan carefully.

‘Ha!’ He Tian crows. His eyes darken. ‘Oh, I doubt it sweetheart.’

‘Wanna bet?’

He Tian’s brows lift. A smirk spreads slowly across his face, arrogance coming into steady effect. He swaggers forward.

‘My request,’ he murmurs, ‘would’ve been you.’

Guan Shan closes off his expression, puts his walls up. The news comes as no surprise: He Tian’s been clear with his intentions since they were in flight school, tugging at heartstrings like pigtails. Guan Shan doesn’t mind anymore. He’s used to it. He knows, with He Tian, the offer of intimacy is only sex and doesn’t go further. The walls Guan Shan has built are thick with cement.

Behind them, another jet comes into land. The windows rattle.

Guan Shan breathes out slowly, waits for the engine sound to fade. ‘Like I said,’ he starts, lifting his gaze from the floor. ‘Probably the same as you.’

It takes He Tian a few seconds. Guan Shan takes it as a win—a real one.

‘You—’ He Tian swallows. ‘So, all this time—all of our fighting. You could have just said so.’

‘Could’ve,’ Guan Shan admits. ‘But I never wanted sex, He Tian. I mean—I never just wanted it. Not like you.’

He Tian blinks at him. ‘Maybe I wasn’t clear. When I said I wanted to give you what you wanted: I meant it. Every word.’

‘You’re gonna regret that.’

He Tian nods slowly. ‘Very possibly,’ he says.

They’re close enough that when Guan Shan reaches out a hand and loops his fingers around He Tian’s wrist, He Tian comes forward with ease. His smile is indulgent.

He Tian continues: ‘But I’m willing to take a fox three for it.’

Guan Shan rolls his eyes. His fingers knot themselves in He Tian’s hair, and his mouth comes down to meet his willingly.

‘Shut the fuck up, He Tian.’

[agentfreckles]

Hey, hello! How are you? I wanted to tell you that I like how you write and I really liked the story you wrote about Farah and the gender neutral detective! do you remember when F asked if they could have the goodbye kiss? Can you write one where Felix asks again about the kiss at the M!Detective, please? (I need some fluffiness sigh)

Thank you both so much for the kind words and these requests! This one was a little more challenging than I had hoped, but I really like how it turned out in the end so hopefully it was worth the wait. Enjoy!

Pucker Up 

Rating: T for smooching and Mason’s potty mouth 

Word Count: 1,724

Pairing: Felix x Male!Detective (Lucas Kingston)

Summary: Lucas gets called back to the station and forgets to give Felix a kiss goodbye before he leaves. Felix isn’t having it.

Notes: F is the biggest drama queen and you will not convince me otherwise. Based on Sera’s goodbye kiss ask that we all went feral for. I want to extend a massive thank you to @lilyoffandoms for letting me borrow their hunky detective Lucas for this. He really helped this story come alive and I can’t thank you enough!

Felix hates goodbyes. Like really, really hates them. 

They’re sitting on the couch in the warehouse living room in their usual position, with Lucas’ arm slung around Felix’s shoulders while his hand rests firmly on the detective’s thigh. Conversation flows easily between the two of them and the rest of Unit Bravo — maybe even a little too easily for some of the team’s more senior members given some of the subject matter that’s managed to crop up here and there — but, hey, any gab session where he and Mason have managed to make Nat sigh in exasperation and pinch the bridge of her nose multiple times is pretty damn good in Felix’s book. Hell, even Ava, perpetual hard-ass that she is, managed to get in a joke or two. It’s been a great day, the best day. And it’s times like these where Felix takes a look around the room at his family and the love of his life and just feels...happy. Really, truly happy. And he knows in this moment that there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than right here. 

But then that all too familiar buzzing noise pierces the blissful atmosphere in the room and Lucas removes his arm from Felix’s shoulders, taking the warmth with him as he reaches into his pocket to fish out his phone and Felix’s heart sinks because he knows what’s coming. 

Lucas heaves a heavy sigh, frowning at his phone’s screen. “It’s Verda. I’ve got to get back. Apparently there’s a bit of a dispute going on at the station involving a couple of disgruntled fishermen and Douglas is the only one around to handle the situation. You can image how well that’s going.” 

Felix visibly deflates. “You’re leaving? But you just got here.” 

Mason scoffs from his spot perched against a side table in his preferred dark corner of the room, lit cigarette dangling from his lips. “He’s been here since this morning.” 

“Well, it feels like he just got here. Not that anyone asked you anyway,” Felix retorts, tossing Mason an unamused glare before fixing his focus back on the detective. “Are you sure you have to go?” 

“Duty calls, I’m afraid,” Lucas says with a soft smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he stands and begins collecting his belongings from the nearby coffee table. 

Felix frowns at the sudden distance between them, eventually giving a resigned nod. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

It sucks, but honestly he gets it. Lucas is a busy guy; he can’t just stay and laze around with Felix forever. But, man, does he wish he could just wrap Lucas in his arms and never let go instead of having to sit idly by as he gets called away once again to go off and be this badass crime solver extraordinaire. God, he’s amazing. And handsome and funny and smart and — 

He misses him so much already and the guy hasn’t even left yet. 

Felix shakes himself out of his lovesick haze before he makes things even worse for himself, instead rising up to his feet and positioning himself in silent preparation for the one event that makes these goodbyes even remotely bearable. 

Goodbye kisses may be born out of less than ideal circumstances, but they sure are enjoyable. Especially the way he and Lucas do them. They’re soft and tender yet charged with heat and every one gives Felix just enough to get by in Lucas’ absence while also leaving him eagerly waiting for their next meeting so they can come together all over again. 

“Let me get your coat,” Nat offers, reaching for the trench coat she’d folded over the back of a nearby arm chair and stepping behind Lucas as she helps him slip it on. He hums absentmindedly in thanks, his focus zeroed in on his phone and a deep frown settles onto his face as he reads through his texts — Verda’s updates on the dispute at the station, no doubt — but Felix’s focus is only on the excitement bubbling in his chest as the kiss draws near.

Any moment now Lucas will put his phone away and those blue eyes will lock on him. They’ll sparkle with heat as he strides over to Felix with slow and steady purpose and a small smirk will rest on his lips because he knows all too well the effect he has over him. Then he’ll take him in his arms and- 

And…he’s heading for the door.

Wait, seriously? 

“Babe!” Felix calls out automatically, mouth falling open in disbelief as the fantasy he was losing himself in shatters.  

“Hm?” Lucas responds in surprise, spinning on the spot to face him. The phone in his hand chimes with another incoming text. His eyes fall back to the screen and he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, Felix. I need to get back before Douglas gets himself killed. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” Felix presses, halting the detective’s movements once more. 

Lucas’ brow furrows in confusion and he begins patting himself down and checking his pockets in earnest. “Uh, no…? I don’t believe so.”  

Felix can hardly believe what he’s hearing. His head swivels around to the other members of Unit Bravo looking for someone to back him up on the cruel twist of fate life has handed him, but he’s met with three faces displaying the same sheer confusion as his boyfriend currently is. “Is anyone else seeing this right now? I can’t be the only one who noticed, right?”

“None of us have any fucking idea what you’re talking about, Felix,” Mason snarks, followed closely by a disapproving click of the tongue from Nat. 

“Felix, the detective clearly has important matters to attend to,” Ava scolds and wow, okay, maybe Felix really is alone in this after all. “I suggest you save your concerns for-“

“You’re really just going to leave without a goodbye kiss? Babe!“ 

Felix swears he feels the ground shake under the combined forces of Ava and Mason’s groans. He ignores them, striding across the room with his head held high and determination set on his features as he prepares to confront his boyfriend for this most heinous of slights. 

He comes to a stop in front of where Lucas stands by the door. Channeling his inner Ava, Felix folds his arms and tries his best to peer down his nose in disappointment at Lucas despite their rather large height difference. “Well, detective? What do you have to say for yourself?” 

Lucas sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, his gaze sidelong and woefully apologetic. “It appears I was forgetting something after all.” His blue eyes shift back to catch his and Felix feels his breath hitch at the intensity in his gaze. “Please allow me to make it up to you before I go.” 

Oh, well, now there’s a thought. 

“I don’t know…” Felix trails off in faux consideration, determined to milk the moment for all its worth despite the somersaults his insides are currently doing at the implications of the request. It’s a little much, he knows —and Lucas really needs to get over to the station like now — but then again, Felix never has been one to waste an opportunity to charm his way into a larger payout. And something tells him this reward is going to be big if he plays his cards right. “That was a pretty big offense, babe. You’re going to have to come up with something pretty special for me to forgive you.”

“Special, huh?” Lucas grins, all too ready to accept the challenge Felix has laid out before him. He shortens what little distance remains between them, one hand snaking its way around Felix’s waist while the other gently comes to rest on his cheek. Felix swallows heavily under the heat of his stare. “I think I can manage that.”

Lucas closes the distance between them and Felix gasps in surprised delight as he feels himself being lowered horizontally into a dip, suddenly feeling very much like one of those couples from those black and white romance films they’d sometimes show on movie night at the Facility. He used to call such dramatic romantic displays cheesy and unrealistic, but this is…wow. It’s heady and delicious, a perfect blend of yearning and desire and love that’s just so right that his brain just kind of short circuits from the intensity of it. He hopes that Lucas will be able to resolve that problem at the station quickly because there is no way in hell Felix is going to be able to focus on anything else until he gets back. 

Distantly he feels himself being placed upright again as Lucas finally breaks the kiss and releases his hold on him. The detective’s breath is ragged as he straightens his tie and runs a hand through his red hair before fixing Felix with a smile. “So how did I do?”

“I…uhh…heh,” Felix stumbles, unable to form words thanks to the pile of mush his brain has been reduced to. He blinks back the dense fog just enough to reply with a breathless, “You’re forgiven.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” A sharp ringing sound fills the air. Lucas swipes the screen on his phone and answers the call. “Yes, Verda. There was a small matter that needed attending to, but I’m on my way now.” And with a small nod of his head and one last dazzling smile, Lucas departs, the living room door closing behind him with a soft click. 

“That was quite the parting gift,” Mason remarks, giving a small nod in approval as Felix all but floats back to the couch.

“The best gift,” Felix corrects him as he collapses onto the cool leather. His eyes flutter closed, mind dancing with images of red hair and blue eyes and impossibly soft lips that leave him breathless and aching for more. 

Nat chuckles fondly nearby. “One that’ll make the wait much more bearable until Lucas’ return, I’m sure.”

The sentiment has a grin tugging at Felix’s lips. He’s not sure anything could ever make waiting to see the detective again not feel like an eternity, but straight-out-of-the-movies kisses are one hell of a good try. 

Maybe goodbyes aren’t so bad after all. 

[bjy-on-ao3]

Kinktober Day 17

(As before, you can find a link to the AO3 version of this and the rest of my Kinktober 2020 prompts on the ‘Masterlist’ section of the blog.)

Y’know, I’m still not exactly sure what the ‘sex demon’ prompt is. I don’t know if it refers to just someone who is so much of a nympho they might be called a sex demon, or someone who’s just really good at it. But for the sake of this prompt, I’m just going with a literal demon who, to me, has a whole lot of sex appeal.

Kinktober Day 17: S*x Demon (Diavolo | Obey Me!)

It shouldn’t have surprised you that the Prince of the Devildom had such a salacious side to him. Sure, he seemed the perfect gentleman with a dose of well-meaning teasing, but he was still a demon.  Demons weren’t exactly known for their chastity, though you thought such traits lied with demons more predisposed to it, like succubi. Your expectations were subsequently shattered when the party erupted into full swing, guests shouting and cheering, their fairly humanlike disguises shifting, revealing an array of horns, wings, tails, and intricate outfits.

To your shock, Diavolo was one of the demons whose altered form left little to the imagination. So often you were used to seeing only the skin of his hands, neck, and head, the rest hidden away by his lurid red uniform and black dress shirt. Trying to keep your mouth from hanging open and looking completely the fool, your eyes lingered helplessly on the expanse of tanned skin before you. Broken here and there by intricate golden jewelry and a wrap of inexplicably plush looking black fur, your eyes easily traced the hard lines of his abdomen and arms. Letting your gaze sweep down, you had to wonder just how his pants remained up, the waistline riding precariously low, the defined vee luring your eyes further downward. 

None of his ensemble helped tamp down the rush of inappropriate thoughts that bubbled up. You wondered if Lucifer would have scolded you for your unchaste reaction. Asmodeus would have only encouraged it. Even the fear of what others might think of your ogling wasn’t enough to distract your wandering eyes. All you knew for sure was your mouth was suddenly too dry and your underwear too damp. 

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away when Diavolo’s golden gaze flicked towards you and you prayed your flustered state wasn’t so easy to notice as it felt. The allure that left the demon prince in near tangible waves had blindsided you. Even with your eyes turned away, focusing absently on some random painting on the wall, you couldn’t get the sight of him out of your mind. A fact that was going to make for a most uncomfortable and tense evening. If you were lucky, you would be able to last the evening without anyone noticing or questioning your behavior. 

You were doomed to failure, however, as your intense attention hadn’t been lost on Diavolo. Catching the deep red blush on your cheeks before you tried to turn and hide had been all too easy. He was certain he’d seen nothing of the sort on your face before and it instantly piqued his interest. Of course, his demon form was a marvel, though perhaps as a human you had expected it to be that of a terrible beast rather than a tawny adonis. He had seen your exact reaction in the past on the face of other demons, but he hadn’t thought to see it from you.

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

As the festivities wound down and many retired for their homes or rooms, Diavolo took an opportunity to pull you aside from the brothers, The majority of them didn’t seem to be interested in questioning Diavolo’s reasons for wanting a private conversation with you. After all, given the Exchange Program was his responsibility, it was natural he might want to check on you, right? The only brother who seemed hesitant was Lucifer - the brother who knew Diavolo the best. Something must have told the eldest brother that Diavolo’s reasons weren’t quite innocent. Despite his hesitation and a glance at Diavolo that was both concerned and questioning, Lucifer remained quiet.

Having spent the evening trying to scrub your brain of the image of Diavolo’s enticing demon form and being immediately reminded when you cast your eyes around the room, you were relieved to see he had returned to his ‘human form’. Devoid of curling horns and tempting planes of bare, muscular skin, it was much easier to focus and relax. If you tried to have whatever conversation he wanted to have in his transformed state you knew you wouldn’t be able to prevent embarrassing yourself, let alone even listen to what he had to say.

Diavolo stopped in his stride abruptly, turning to you face you in a long, empty hallway. From the sound of things, not a soul was anywhere nearby and the din of the few rowdy party guests still around had faded to nothing. Chances were slim anyone would wander by, on accident or on purpose, save one of the lesser demon spirits who knew well enough not to interrupt him when he was busy. “So, um, what did you want to ask about, Lord Diavolo?” You asked, trying to sound proper and cheerful, rather than expose the nerves lingering beneath the mask.

“You seemed rather uncomfortable at the party tonight. Did something happen?” He asked despite knowing what vexed you.

Your eyes widened a bit and you tried to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. “Oh no, everything was great! I’m just not good with crowds or having attention on me, that’s all,” You lied with a smile.

“Ah, is that all?” Diavolo wondered, cocking his head to the side. He was closer now, having boxed you in closer to the wall than you realized at first. “It wasn’t something I did then?” He pressed.

You were about to swiftly open your mouth and refute his words when the air wavered and you were again staring down his much more vibrant and flamboyant demon form. Your body betrayed your reaction immediately, your teeth digging into your lip and a pretty blush tinging your cheeks. Diavolo moved even closer, one hand settling palm flat against the intricate wall on one side of your head. All at once, it felt harder to breathe and you squeezed your thighs together to ease the thoroughly renewed throb between them. 

Diavolo hummed thoughtfully down at your reaction as if considering something, sharp eyes catching each small response. You felt unsettled, more so than just from your embarrassingly strong and quick reaction to his more primal form. The warm, friendly air you were so used was nowhere in sight. Instead, his expression was so serious, calculating. A chill raced up your spine at the thought you that maybe your response had been more insulting to him than flattering. You quickly squashed that line of thought before you added fear to your already swirling emotions.

��Since this is the first time, I’ll go easy on you. In the future don’t lie to me,” The redhead warned you.  

There was no anger in his rich tone. His voice was considerably less serious than his expression, the playful hints you were used to seeping through. Yet still, there was a husky undertone to his words that made you lick your lips uncertainly. The slow twist of his wrist drew your eyes as he brought his knuckles beneath your chin, leaning in smoothly. His lips met yours in a kiss that was firm, yet not demanding. Though it wasn’t as if he needed to be demanding with the way you melted at the touch of them. The pulse and wetness between your legs surged eagerly at the contact and you unintentionally sighed.

His tongue dragged hotly across your lower lip, softly flicking it with the tip. Drawn into a haze by the sensual, confident press of his mouth on yours you gladly opened your lips and invited him in. As soon as you yielded to his desire, he broke off, straightening up and stepping away from you. The sudden change of pace combined with the alluring kiss made your head spin. You found yourself confused, disappointed, and far too horny. 

What kind of game was Diavolo playing? Was this just part of his teasing? He mentioned something about accompanying you back to your room, as the brothers would surely be worrying about you, though most of his words were lost on a mind stilled addled by the fog his demon form created in you.

 It was only once he reverted to his other form that you found your words, though they sounded uncertain as if your will wasn’t quite your own. “What if I didn’t want you to go easy on me?” You asked, voice more breathless than you liked.

The redhead looked at your curiously and something mischievous and coy crept into his warm smile. “I’d say that could be arranged, but later.”

[4kominato]

A/N: So basicallyyy, this is a recycled kpop fic that I felt was fitting for my best boy, Nori, so here we are 🙂 FIRST DAIYA FIC WOOP! ~ kuri

Prompt: first time where fem!reader bleeds making bf!Nori worry

Pairing: Kawakami Norifumi x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (M) ~ SEXUAL CONTENT

Word Count: 2,233

“This movie sucks,” you groaned as you let your head plop onto your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I thought it’d be good,” Nori replied defensively, “The ratings were high.”

“It’s not your fault, I’m just disappointed,” you pouted.

“Did you wanna do something else?” he suggested since it was unlikely that you were gonna sit through the rest of the movie.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit and cuddle,” you replied as you snuggled into his chest.

“Okay, I like that idea,” he hummed as he pulled you close and rested his head on top of yours.

You enjoyed having these pure, wholesome moments with Nori and found the sound of his heartbeat rather calming, but for some reason, whenever you guys were physical for long periods of time, your mind would always end up drifting to dirty thoughts. The two of you had been sexual before, but a lot of the time, you tried to control yourself so you wouldn’t give him the wrong idea; you loved him more than words could express and it wasn’t just for sexual gratification.

You hadn’t gone all the way with him yet, but you couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed your mind more times than once. Since Nori never really mentioned much about sex to you other than making occassional dirty jokes, it was hard for you to bring the topic up to him. He was a boy, but no matter how hard you thought about it, you just couldn’t convince yourself that he thought about it as much as you did.

“Nori-chan...” you mumbled nervously, finally growing desperate enough to attempt having a conversation about the topic with him.

“Mm?”

“Um… have you ever thought about… it?”

“About what?”

“Y’know… ‘it’…” You could feel your stomach folding into knots as you thought about what you should say next. You didn’t want to say it out right, but at the same time maybe it wasn’t a good idea to assume he’d know what ‘it’ meant.

“It?” he asked again, urging you to sit up before throwing you a concerned look, “What do you mean? If there’s something bothering you, tell me.”

“Er… well…” you started, breaking eye contact with him, “It’s just… uh…”

“Is it bad? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No! Not at all! It’s… ugh…” Out of frustration, you cupped your face in your hands and tried to calm yourself down so that you could start over and try again.

“Oi…” Nori said worriedly as he pulled you in for a hug, “I didn’t mean to upset you, sorry… you can tell me when you’re ready to.”

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you briefly looked back up at him before pressing your lips against his. You came to the decision that asking him verbally was too difficult, at least in that context, so you would ask him through actions instead. It’d been a while since the last time you’d done anything sexual with him so you felt it’d be okay to let things escalate a little bit today.

As you continued to move your lips against his, one of your hands found its way down to his stomach, slowly drifting lower and lower down his body. Before you knew it, your fingers slid right over the waistband of his sweats and landed right on his crotch, the feeling of his already hardening member under your palm making your core ache with desire.

He let a moan slip into your mouth as you started to stroke him over the thin material of his pants, his hand going to your waist and pulling you closer to him before he broke the kiss, letting his head fall back against the back of the couch.

“Is this the ‘it’ you were talking about earlier?” he asked breathily, as you continued to palm at his erection.

“Um well… possibly…” you trailed off, the movement in your hand starting to cease as you lost confidence amidst the topic that Nori had suddenly resurfaced.

“Are you scared to talk about ‘it’?”

“Maybe a little…”

“Why? It’s normal for couples to talk about these kinds of things. So what was it you were trying to ask me?”

“Um… okay,” you started, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Have you ever thought about… having sex with me?”

“Are you kidding me?” Nori laughed in disbelief, “Of course I have! All the time! What kind of boyfriend doesn’t think about that?”

“I don’t know… you never mentioned it before…”

“Well, I didn’t wanna be the one to initiate it or pressure you into it, so I figured it’d be safer to wait until you told me you were ready.”

Suddenly, you felt embarrassed that you were so worried over something so dumb, but at the same time you were relieved. You were thankful to have such a loving and considerate boyfriend who’s been patiently waiting for the ‘okay’ from you, but now you kind of regret waiting so long to bring up the topic. Communication is important in a relationship and you shouldn’t have been so scared to express how you felt.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before speaking with a new burst of confidence, “I’ve been ready.”

Nori only smirked in response, carefully laying you down on the couch before getting your permission to remove shorts and panties. He was gentle as he removed each article of clothing, and once he had full access, his thumb went straight to your clit, skillfully rubbing over the sensitive bulb how he knew you liked it. “You’re so wet already,” He gawked as his other fingers wandered down to your wet folds and teased your entrance.

“I’m always wet for you,” you muttered before taking your lower lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as Nori slipped a finger into you and curled it up against your g-spot. Occasionally between curls, he pumped his finger in and out of your slick lips and when you least expected it, during one of those moments he surprised you by sneaking in an extra finger. “Nori!” you moaned out, toes curling and fists clenching at the newly intensified sensation.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to handle the real thing? I’m only using two fingers right now,” he teased before leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead.

“S-shut up! I— can—” You struggled to make out between breaths, “It f-feels— good—”

With the combined feeling of his two fingers thrusting into you, stimulating your g-spot and his thumb continuing to toy with your clit, it wasn’t long before he had you shaking beneath him as you tried your best to fight back your oncoming orgasm.

“Cum for me,” Nori whispered as his fingers continued to work wonders between your legs.

The sheer sound of his raspy voice resonating in your ear was enough to push you over the edge, pleasure erupting throughout your body as you hit your first climax of the night. When you finally opened your eyes, Nori had quite a pleased look on his face as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and briefs, pulling them both down in one go. Your mouth watered seeing his erection spring free, the tip already glistening with his essence. He gave himself a couple pumps before positioning himself to your entrance, nervousness etched into his features as he looked up at you for approval before proceeding.

“Wait,” you interrupted as you reached down to grab his cock, gently urging him to scoot closer to you, “It’s our first time y’know… a little extra lube might be a good idea.” With that, you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you slid your lips down his length.

“Oh god,” he gasped at your unexpected advance, “Don’t make me cum before we even start...”

You hummed in acknowledgement, unintentionally adding to the sensation you were already giving him and forcing a throaty moan out of him. He only let you continue for a little longer before he withdrew himself from you, repositioning himself to your entrance again.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, reaffirming that you meant what you said earlier about wanting to go all the way.

“I’m sure,” you replied confidently, giving him a small grin for extra assurance.

“Have you been taking your pills regularly?”

“Yes, I have!” you chuckled, “Are you stalling? Don’t tell me you’re more nervous than me.”

“Of course I’m nervous! I wanna make this a good experience for both of us… it’s a lot of pressure…”

“Don’t think about it too much. If you’re too stressed you won’t be able to enjoy it as much” you cupped his face in his hand as you spoke, “I’m nervous too, but we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

He gave a small nod in response, taking a deep breath before slowly trying to ease himself into you. “Oh my god, you’re... so tight… A-are you okay?” he asked, noticing that you were wincing a little.

“Mhm…” you nodded quickly, “It just hurts a little… but it’s normal...”

“Okay… just… tell me to stop if it hurts a lot okay?”

You nodded again, smiling lovingly as you looked up at him through half lidded eyes. The moment you’d been fantasizing about for so long was finally happening and you couldn’t be happier. You knew it’d be a little bit of a bumpy ride given both of your lack of sexual experience, but the fact that it was with the person who meant the world to you and understood you more than anyone else was what made the experience so perfect.

“Oh my god,” Nori gasped, quickly snapping you out of your thoughts, “Y-you’re bleeding…” When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide and he was completely frozen, like a deer in headlights. “What do I do? Oh my god… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I was just—”

“Keep going,” you interrupted him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “We agreed that I’d tell you to stop if it hurts a lot… and I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“B-but… you’re bleeding?!”

“And it only hurt a little! It’s normal, don’t worry about it. I promise I’ll tell you if something doesn’t feel right.”

“You sure? This just seems so—”

“I’m sure! You’re doing a great job so far, Nori-chan, stop worrying so much, okay?” You felt the tension in his body dissipate once you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, your chaste gesture finally convincing him that you were really okay. After what felt like forever, he continued to cautiously guide his full length into you before slightly retracting and snapping his hips again.

“You feel… amazing, by the way,” he puffed as he continued to meticulously control each of his movements.

“So do you… but go faster,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist for increased proximity.

“I’ll cum if I go faster,” he smiled at you playfully.

“Shut up,” you giggled, lightly slapping him on the shoulder.

Soon after, he complied, his pace gradually starting to pick up filling the empty living room with the sounds or raw sex, the coarse moans falling from both of your lips muffled by bare skin slapping against skin. “Y’know…” Nori started, his voice shaky as he tried to speak between pants, “I was only half joking earlier.”

“Ah-- it’s okay, I- I’m close too,” you struggled to speak over how good he was making you feel. Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe something else, but you didn’t even realize when the initial pain you’d felt had gone away; you just felt like you were on cloud nine and your whole body was buzzing with anticipation as your peak quickly neared.

As Nori chased his own high, he didn’t dare let down the quick and consistent tempo he managed to maintain up until that point, especially knowing how close you were to cumming. In no more than a minute and a handful of thrusts later, a second and more intense explosion of bliss filled your body making your back arch off the couch and toes curl as you uncontrollably fisted at the back of Nori’s shirt.

The feeling of your walls pulsating around him brought him to his climax shortly after you, leading him to quickly pull out and lift up your shirt just enough for him to release his hot seed onto your stomach. He hung his head as he hovered above you, taking a moment to catch his breath before reaching for some tissues to clean up the mess he’d made.

“Why didn’t you cum inside of me?” you asked wearily as you watched him gently wipe up the last of the sticky substance.

“I was too scared to risk it,” he admitted, tossing the used tissues into the nearest trash can, “Especially for our first time.”

“You’re lame,” you mumbled jokingly.

“That’s what you say after I make you cum twice?” he scoffed as he squished himself onto the couch to lay down next to you.

“Thank you for always being so considerate of me,” you mumbled as you snuggled into him, “I love you.”

“Of course, I only want the best for the best girlfriend in the world. I love you more.”

[taste-in-music]

taste-in-music’s top 30 songs of 2020

Hey everyone! If you missed it, you can check out my year end wrap-up post going over my favorite albums and EPs of the year. This list will go over my favorite songs of 2020, whether they happen to be on those projects or not. My only limit is one song per project, and thirty songs total. Now then, let’s get started! 

First Aid by Gus Dapperton: There is one easy way to get me to love a song, and that’s if an artist adds in another person’s vocals for the bridge and final chorus, hence infusing them with more dimension and meaning. “First Aid” is the best usage of that device all year. The song tackles Dapperton’s struggles with mental health, citing his sister as a large help in the midst of it all. Who best to come in for the bridge and final chorus, then, but his sister (who goes by the stage name Amadelle)? It all comes together to make the final act of the song hit like a gut punch. 

Josslyn by Olivia O’Brien: Every year I have to have my helping of big, sugary, bombastic pop tunes on this list, and “Josslyn” was the first of that type of song I fell in love with this year. This song is full of snark and blunt lines, (maybe don’t listen with mom in the room,) but god help me if it didn’t have one of the catchiest chorus melodies of the year. I’ll shout along to the entire song every time I hear it. 

Frustrated by Lauren Sanderson: Okay, I only found this song by chance, like, last week, (another good reason for postponing these lists until the year is actually over,) and I have to include it. If you love the hooky guitars lines of The 1975, vocalists with a gritty edge to their delivery, and a free-spirited feel that captures the euphoria of youth, then this is the song for you. I may have just discovered it, but I’ve already played it countless times. 

To Me by Alina Baraz: Everything about “To Me” communicates blissful tranquility, from the watery production to the subtle confidence in Baraz’s delivery. Every time I was feeling overwhelmed or stressed this year, (and lord help me, that was a lot,) this was the song I’d always return to to center myself. Baraz demanding respect out of her relationships and the best things out of life was downright inspiring.

Do It by Chloe X Halle: If there is one word I would use to describe this it would be effervescent, this song is so fresh, bouncy, and bubbly, like orange soda in musical form. With its tropical production and effortless vocals, this song made me want to hit a dancefloor like nothing else this year. It was the perfect pop Summer smash that deserved a better Summer.

ringtone (Remix) by 100 gecs ft. Charli XCX, Kero Kero Bonito, and Rico Nasty: This is probably the best remix of the year? The original “ringtone” was a cute, hooky fragment, but this turned it into a fleshed out, full-on posse-cut where each guest gets a moment to shine. Charli XCX turns the hook into an earworm, Kero Kero Bonito contribute their signature chirpy vocals, and Rico Nasty jumps in for an awesome bridge that provides a nice change of pace. And, of, course, 100 gecs are the glue that holds everything together. If you’re new to the gec train, this is a great place to start. 

By Myself by Maya Hawke: “By Myself” was the song that proved that Maya Hawke was way more than the usual actor trying to cash in a quick buck. She was a bona-fide craftswoman with the potential to being tears to my eyes with blissfully simple yet artfully constructed folk ballads. This song feels like a long-forgotten lullaby, gentle and beautiful with just enough woeful melancholy to remain emotionally resonant the whole year. 

killing boys by Halsey: “killing boys” is the epitome of short but sweet. This song is a fifteen second long dialogue bite Jennifer’s Body followed by some of the most focused, atmospheric pop of the year that only lasts two and a half minutes. The way the thudding heartbeat, low plucked strings, and Halsey’s hushed delivery all build to the distorted end is a pure adrenaline rush every time. It always had me coming back for more, and by the end of the year it had climbed its way up into my top 5 most listened to songs of the year. 

Bloom by Donna Missal: It’s not a list of mine without a Donna Missal song, is it? As soon as I saw the name of this song on the Lighter track list, I just had a feeling I was going to love it. “Bloom” is the most stripped-back moment on the album, with just a guitar accompanying Missal, and yet it is also one of the most memorable and evocative songs it has to offer. What the stripped-back production allows is for Missal’s sheer, raw talent as a vocalist to blossom, especially in how she displays so much power not by belting, but by holding back. Accompanied with lyrics that detail the fear of holding someone back in a relationship, “Bloom” is awe-inspiring every time. 

fever dream by mxmtoon: mxmtoon’s double album from this year didn’t leave much of an impression of me, but lead single “fever dream” got countless spins. This song feels like a warm hug, with mxmtoon’s amiable vocals, pillowy indie pop production (the chirps! the chimes! the gentle woodwinds!) and comforting lyrics that seemed to synthesize everything I was feeling while giving me a comforting pat on the shoulder at the same time. Take the line: “I want something more than / More than restless mornings / Getting by is so boring.” Gee, I wonder why I would’ve hit a nerve in a year like 2020?

Shoulda Known Better by Nasty Cherry: From the first chord of the intro’s ringing guitars, this feels dug up from a mid-2000s coming of age soundtrack. In fact, there is an inexplicable nostalgic feel to this whole song, from the frankness the lyrics, to the filmy vocal processing, all of it. And the way the song kicks into a faster groove on the chorus is so fun, it makes me want to speed down a highway every time I hear it, and I hate driving! I guess that’s just the power of a great pop rock song. 

Heart of Glass by Miley Cyrus: Do you ever hear a song that stops you clean in your tracks and makes you sit in stunned silence until it’s over? Hearing this cover for the first time did that to me. I had been wanting Miley Cyrus to take the rock route for a while, but this cemented that my intuition was 100% correct. It’s not necessarily better than the Blondie version, (Debbie Harry’s original delivery is very smooth and nonchalant, Miley’s is more gritty and rough around the edges,) but it fills an entirely different purpose. And that purpose is to be listened to on a never ending loop, in absolute awe. 

WIGS by BLACKSTARKIDS: SURF traverses a slew of sounds, from boisterous rock to hip hop to indie pop. One of the albums best moments, however, comes when all those sounds meet in the middle “WIGS” is a blissed-out in the best way, still providing a memorable hook, (one of the best the album has to offer,) while also letting you relax and hang on for the ride.

Dead Horse by Hayley Williams: This was the most unexpected bop of the year. The lyrics may be all about betrayal in the lead-up to divorce, but the delivery is so upbeat and bouncy that I can often forget just how soul-crushing the content is at times. The production on this is so catchy, with the chirpy, tropical synths, the “ya-ya-yas,” and Williams’s stellar vocals.

this is me trying by Taylor Swift: My favorite songs on folklore came to me in waves. First, “epiphany” was my favorite, with its timely lyrics and orchestral arrangements. Then, it was “the lakes,” with its nostalgic, poetic feel, (consider it a very close runner-up.) But in the end, it was the slow burning ache of “this is me trying” that didn’t just become my favorite on folklore, but one of my favorite Taylor Swift songs ever. Looking back, “this is me trying” synthesizes what I like about those other two songs. It has a grand, atmospheric instrumental and pointed, detailed lyrics, combining the two into a single, perfect, emotional wrecking ball. 

Susie Save Your Love by Allie X ft. Mitski: This was my most anticipated duet of the year, and it didn’t disappoint! This song goes by like a long sigh on a humid Summer night, filled with breathy vocals set against a churning groove. The lyrics detail parties gone wrong and unrequited love with a best friend with just enough ambiguity to allude to something darker hovering under the surface. Mitski’s vocals work great in an alt-pop context, I love what she does with her solo work but I certainly wouldn’t be mad if she hopped onto more tracks like this. Also, that guitar solo makes me levitate every time. 

Fetch The Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple: Okay, who had “Fiona Apple meows on a song” on their 2020 bingo card? But it works, it works so well! From its opening clatter of percussion, “Fetch The Bolt Cutters” establishes a locomotive groove that never stops moving forward. In fact, the entire song seems to be dedicated to that sentiment, each lyric linking lines about middle school bullies, media critics, and Kate Bush references into their perfect place. It’s a narrative that may span a lifetime, but it still feels as timely as ever. 

forever by Charli XCX: I’ll admit I haven’t returned to How I’m Feeling Now all that much throughout 2020, but I have returned to “forever,” again and again and again. The sugar-sweet hook at the heart of all the blown-out bass is just irresistible. The way it manages to fight to the forefront, cutting through the clouds of distortion like a shimmering pink diamond, is nothing short of hopeful. 

Fit N Full by Samia: This was my instant favorite off The Baby. The glistening guitars make for a sweltering summery jam that you can’t help but move to every time you hear it. The way Samia weaves lyrics about the agonizing pressures of womanhood, diet culture, and body image into a catchy pop hook is pretty genius. She wraps them all up into a pretty package for consumption, just like women are forced to do with their pain. 

Heartbreak Weather by Niall Horan: Niall Horan has made folksy balladry his mainstay, which is all fine and good, but god help me if his turn towards stadium-rocking power pop didn’t result in one of the most anthemic songs of the year. “Heartbreak Weather” is sharply written, lushly produced, and performed with so much spirit and heart that I can’t help but think that this is the genre Horan has been meant to fall into all along. It’s certainly deserving of its title track status. 

Pretty Please by Dua Lipa: Future Nostalgia was an excellent showcase of Dua Lipa’s mastery over nonstop pop bangers, (”Physical” is the very close runner up for this list.) But surprisingly, it was the breather moment on the album, the song where everything slowed down, that really hooked me. I’m gonna say it, “Pretty Please” is so fucking sexy. The whole song screams sensuality, from the lyrics, to the bass line, to the funky synths, to Lipa’s delivery. It may not be as in-your-face as its peers, but it deserves just as much hype. 

Woo! by Remi Wolf: I had such a hard time picking a Remi Wolf song for this list that I had to resort to the raw data. “Woo!” ended up on my Spotify Wrapped, so “Woo!” gets this spot. This song just works in some ramshackle way I can’t describe, all the disparate pieces come together with so much charm. The way Wolf’s performance effortlessly flip-flops between jaunty half-rapping modulated with distortion to full-blown, raw belting on the bridge is a wild ride of the best kind every time. 

gold rush by Taylor Swift: We have another entry for the highly esteemed category of songs that capture the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. This latest Antonoff-Swift collaboration is a wistful, glittery whirlwind that captures the simultaneous excitement and soul crushing realization of a blooming crush. The way the dreamy intro snaps into the steady thrum of the rest of the song, before the song fades out in the same way, as if to illustrate how your mind can race to dozens of different places all within in the moment of meeting someone? Damn, I’m getting butterflies just thinking about it. 

Eugene by Arlo Parks: “Eugene” is a testament to soft-spoken heartache, as Arlo Parks details watching her straight crush in a relationship with a man. The song is incredibly intimate, both with Park’s hushed vocals and the specific details she utilizes in her writing, (Sylvia Plath poetry, a cigarette hanging between purple lips.) It all comes together to make the song all the more personal and heart-aching. 

People, I’ve been sad by Christine and the Queens: Christine and the Queens have perfected setting emotionally resonant sentiments against wire-tight grooves, and “People I’ve been sad” may just be their most elegant effort yet. The echoing, stuttering drums, fluttering backing vocals, and reverb give the track a wide sense of space, which perfectly illustrates the loneliness Chris describes. But there’s also this intangible warmth to the song too, harking from the strings and Chris’s introspective performance. Just gorgeous. 

XS by Rina Sawayama: Picking a song of SAWAYAMA for this list was damn near impossible. My first favorite off the album was the nu metal rager “STFU!,” then the slinky intrigue of “Akasaka Sad,” then the glitter-flinging “Tokyo Love Hotel.” But did those songs end Karl Marx’s career with their razor-sharp critique of capitalism? No. Hence, “XS” gets this spot. The craftmanship of this song is so impressive, with the rock guitar hits contrasted against the glossy pop production, Rina’s pitch-perfect performance, the witty lyricism, everything. This will go down as a classic in Ms. Sawayama’s discography, no doubt!

Guilty Conscience by 070 Shake: I didn’t even realize this was one of my favorite songs of the year until I was writing this list and felt like something was missing. This feels like a song that plays for the last stragglers on a prom dance floor. It’s melancholic yet just upbeat enough, sprawling yet buoyant, and hooks you in with the perfect balance monstrous, shimmering 80s synths undercut with rattling modern trap percussion. It’s just irresistible. If HBO doesn’t put this on the next season of Euphoria then they’re fools. 

I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers: I don’t even know if I can describe the full impact of this song, so I’ll keep to short. One word: catharsis. The way this sound builds up from signature Phoebe Bridgers Ballad™ to forceful rollick to gut-wrenching climax gives me chills every time. I don’t want to spoil it. If you haven’t heard it before, go listen to it, (preferably with the rest of the album, too.) If you know, you know. 

Delete Forever by Grimes: Okay, now who had “Grimes makes the best country song of the year” on their 2020 bingo card? I certainly didn’t. I’ve loved Grimes’s work in the past for its ability to transport me to another place. “Delete Forever” does the exact opposite in its discussion of loss, exhaustion, and hopelessness, rooting me right to where I am. But you know what? I think I like that a lot more, especially when the song incorporates a lush acoustic guitar and strings, sunny synths, and just enough optimism to remind me that there is always hope to keep the darkness from fully taking over.

circle the drain by Soccer Mommy: This song was in the running for my favorite song of the year since even before the pandemic began, for its classic 90s-alternative sound, for its clever production choices, and for its anthemic feel. But as the year went on, it just kept getting more and more emotionally potent. I’ve been wanting to look at the songs and albums I’ve discussed on these lists without putting on pandemic-tinted glasses, but the truth is, that experience drastically shaped my year, and how I consume music. The lyrics in this song were so goddamn relatable as this year kept spiraling and it felt like I was along with it. “circle the drain” showed me that it’s okay to be feel like I was “falling apart these days.” Because those feelings are not new, I’m not alone in feeling them, and I may keep feeling them, but you know what? I’ll still have this song, in fact, many of the songs on this list, to return to when I do. 

Here are some songs I loved this year that didn’t come out in 2020: “Nikes” by Frank Ocean, “Prom” by SZA, “Rhinestone Eyes” by Gorillaz, “Anyone Else But You” by The Moldy Peaches, “Cold War” by Cautious Clay, “Plans” by Maude Latour, “Sleepyhead” by Passion Pit, and “Narcissist” by No Rome ft. The 1975.

Whether you liked, reblogged, or commented on a post, sent me an ask, or interacted with this blog in any way, thank you so much for all the support throughout the year! I can’t express how much I appreciate it.

What were your favorite songs from this year? Did I miss anything? Send me an ask and let me know. I’ll tell you my thoughts, or put it on my to-listen-to list if I haven’t heard them.

Here’s to 2021! May it clear the extremely low bar set by this year.