#If i were still his equal there would be problems i would not be capturable

[ayinglair]

Ohhh wait ok so that's actually the point

Equals at first but then for it to actually work he has to be able to win

Ok i can make peace with that

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Part 1: Linked Here!

AO3: Linked Here :)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, semi-spicy scenes, lemon

Link to My Master List

Scenes from the afternoon hookup replay in your mind over and over as you sit in the library at a battered old desk in the history section. All you can think about is Shoto’s mouth. And his hands. And his abs!! And his sweet face.

You twiddle your pen in your hand as you try to draft out an essay for class. Unfortunately, every time you try to jot down a few thoughts your mind goes blissfully blank and you remember the tender way he spoke to you.

"How am I going to get anything done now, knowing that you can kiss like this?"

“You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft…I never realized how great it would be to touch you.”

“Find me later so we can discuss this.”

You look down at your watch excitedly – 7:55 PM. You eagerly wait for Shoto to appear so the two of you can talk and – with any luck – canoodle amongst the history textbooks. You sit patiently as the time ticks by.

Soon it’s 8:30 PM. You’re not worried, though. Shoto probably assumed you’d want to get some work done first.

9:15 PM rolls around and you start to get worried. You try to distract yourself with school work as doubt creeps into your mind.

10 PM – Shoto still hasn’t showed.

“Shit shit shit.” You check your phone again and again as you wade through the endless wave of homework your teachers have assigned. You keep losing yourself in a math problem or in a passage of your History textbook, only to remember with a jolt that you were expecting to see Shoto and the bastard hasn’t showed.

At 10:30 PM you realize with a sinking feeling that it’s almost past curfew. You pack up your things and prepare to head back to the dorms. There’s a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t shake.

You slide your books into your bag as a anxious thoughts dance through your mind like annoying fruit flies: Does Shoto regret your mid-afternoon hookup? Is he going to pretend it never happened? Did you push him too far? Does he think you’re a slut for stripping off your shirt and basically pressing his face into your naked breasts!? The synapses of your brain jump through dozens of equally horrid and embarrassing scenarios as you march back to your dorm room, blushing furiously with humiliation.

You run through the afternoon’s events in your head for what feels like the hundredth time, trying to find a clue as to why Shoto would have left you waiting alone in the library. Your cheeks burn hotter as you recall the gentle way Shoto had kissed your neck before leaning in to capture your lips in one of his first kisses. "How am I going to get anything done now, knowing that you can kiss like this?" You shiver as you think back to how gentle he was, how each caress felt so loving and intimate.

You shake your head to clear it. Shoto must have a valid excuse for not meeting you in the library as he had promised – no boy could kiss someone that intimately and then instantly cast her aside, right?

Before long, you’re walking through the doors of Class 1A’s dorm building. You shiver with discomfort as you recall how earlier that day you essentially scaled the side of a building for a boy. Does Shoto think you’re an absolute fool with the extremes you went to for a quick make out session? You hope not.

You walk up the stairs and past the common area. You see most of Class 1A studying quietly. Sero, Izuku, Kirishima and Ida sit around one of the kitchen tables reviewing their math homework while some of the girls compare English notes on the couch. To your relief, Shoto isn’t there. Mina waves to you enthusiastically, beckoning you to join her and YaMomo as they review the finer points of Hamlet. You politely decline and make a beeline for your room. You turn the key in the lock and it clicks – within moments, you are blessedly alone.

You toss your heavy book bag to the ground and prepare to wallow in self-pity. It’s 10:56pm and Shoto still hasn’t reached out to you. Your phone is vacant of text messages and your brain is absolutely fried from schoolwork.

You dim your room lights and switch on the favorite fairy lights for some peaceful ambiance. Time for some self-care, bitch! You think resolutely as you swap your uniform for your favorite pair of pajamas. You toss your phone to the floor with abandon and climb into your comfy bed. You breathe in deeply, allowing yourself to revel in the coziness of the dorm room.

You take out your five-minute bullet journal and write a quick list of things you're grateful for: 1. The opportunity to study at UA 2. Your lovely and encouraging friends and classmates 3. Your cozy room and the roof over your head 4. Shoto’s mouth 5. Shoto’s abs 6. Shoto’s goddamn hard AF dick

Um. No.

You snap the journal shut before you get too derailed.

You pull your comforter over your head and sit in silence for a moment. You’ve never been the kind of person to go completely boy-crazy. You always used to make fun of those girls who would go gaga over pretty boys and their texts and their kisses. But as you recall the searing way that Shoto kissed your lips earlier that day, you suddenly understand what all the boy-crazed girly hype was all about. Oh my god. You have a crush. A big sloppy embarrassing crush.

In the silence of your room, you suddenly here a buzzing noise coming from the general direction of your book bag. You struggle to disentangle yourself from your sheets and your journal goes flying. You ignore its crash landing as you slip from your bed and collect your phone from where it lays abandoned on the carpeted floor.

It’s Shoto.

Your heart skips.

Todoroki: Y/N. Are you awake?

You bite your lip, unsure how to respond. Did Shoto just send you his version of “U up?”

Y/N: Yes, I’m still up.

Todoroki: I know it’s late, but can I stop by?

You tense. Oh God – he’s going to come by to tell you that he’s not interested. He’s going to thank you for your time making out and say that you probably should avoid hooking up in the future because it’s a huge distraction. You’re sure that whatever he has to say is going to be negative and leave you feeling embarrassed. Why else would he have skipped out on your rendezvous in the library?

You take a deep breath. You have always been fairly practical with a mind for strategy, two qualities that had really set you apart when you had taken the UA entrance exams. You know that the best course of action here is to rip off the Band-Aid sooner rather than later. Better to know how he feels about your hookup now

Your heart sinks as you type out:

Y/N: Sure, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. Just come in. Try not to be seen by anyone.

Todoroki: Of course. See you shortly.

Your heart beats double time as you look down at yourself. Your pajama set consists of a silky blue top with matching shorts that don’t leave much to the imagination. You chew on your thumb nervously – should you change into something more appropriate? No – Shoto has seen your boobs. A little bit of leg is not going to kill the half hot half cold hero in training.

You quickly remake your bed and kick your book bag beneath your desk so that the floor is clear. You plop down on your smooth comforter and wait, knotting your hands together as you anticipate Shoto’s arrival.

A few anxious minutes pass, and then you hear gentle footsteps pad down the hallway outside your door. The knob turns quietly, and in a moment Shoto Todoroki steps across your threshold, quietly closing the door behind him. He reaches down to turn the lock with a gentle snap of his wrist.

You take him in – he’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft white t-shirt. You’ve never seen him dressed so casually before and you assume that these are what he wears as pajamas in the privacy of his own dorm room. His hair is tousled and damp from a recent shower, and the burned side of his face shines where he’s clearly applied some kind of scar cream or moisturizer. His outfit projects a comfy air, but his expression is dark and stormy. Your heartbeat quickens in fear – what could possibly have caused him to be in such a tempestuous mood? Was this about your kissing?

You bite at your lip with worry. But when your eyes lock, his expression softens. In two quick strides, he’s at the bed. He leans in close so that your noses almost touch.

“Hi.” He says softly, before dipping his mouth to meet yours. You blink in surprise as your mouths melt together. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the kiss. Pleasure radiates up and down your spine as you kiss him back. He places both his palms on your hips and pulls you closer, letting out a small moan of satisfaction as he slides his tongue into your mouth. How silly you feel for thinking he didn’t want you like this!

After a few moments, you break apart.

“Hey there.” You whisper, bringing your hands up to cup his beautiful jaw. He leans in to kiss you again and you hold him in place. He stops and looks down at you inquisitively.

“I waited for you in the library, you didn’t show.” You say slowly, softly.

“My father decided to take me through some drills in one of the school’s gyms. I only finished a half hour ago.” His expression becomes dull as he speaks. “I’m sorry to leave you waiting. I wanted to see you - but I’m not allowed on my phone during training.”

Relief must have flooded your features, because he tilts his head to the side questioningly. You hold back a giggle – the way his head is tilted makes him look like a sweet dog asking its owner for a treat.

“What’s wrong?”

You sigh and pull yourself further onto the bed, patting the spot next to you as an invitation. Shoto climbs up next to you, sinking into the deliciously soft fabric. His eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“This is so comfortable.” He says, pressing his palm into the plush fabric beneath him. You recall his sparse traditional bedroom and realize that he’s never laid on a proper puffy mattress before.

“Hold on – it gets better.” You say pushing him off the bed so you can pull down the covers. You slip beneath the comforter and gesture for him to rejoin you. He climbs in clumsily, unsure how to position himself within the sheets. You prop a pillow beneath his shoulders as he lays down on his side. You toss the comforter over the two of you and lay across from him, feet almost touching beneath the warm layers of bedding.

“Cozy?” You ask as Shoto settles into the bed.

“Yeah.” He says in quiet voice, propping himself up on an elbow. “I always thought beds like this were excessive but…maybe there’s some merit to this.” He eyes a blue Squirtle plush that sits next to you in the bed. “Can I…hold that?”

You grin, biting back a laugh as you reach over to grab the Pok��mon plush. “This is Squirtle – he’s one of my favorite plushies.” You hold up the stuffed animal and wiggle it in front of Shoto’s eyes as if it’s dancing. “Squirtle, Squirtle” you say in a low tone, trying to emulate the television character’s voice the best you can.

Shoto gives you a weird look. “I don’t get it. Why are you just repeating its name in a strange voice?”

“Shoto…have you…have never seen Pokémon!?” You almost screech in disbelief, before throwing a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself. You quickly remember that you are in the dorms and the walls aren’t super thick.

“No, I wasn’t allowed to watch television unless it was about Pro hero work.” Shoto says, a tinge of sadness flowing along with his words. “But it looks cute and round and I really just want to hold it and squish it?”

“Yeah, that’s the general reaction to plushies. Dude, we need to get you that whale pillow you liked on Pinterest. You need more cuteness in your life.”

“Well I have you, don’t I?” Shoto smiles softly. “You bring more than enough cute into my life.” He reaches out and grabs the plush from your hands and squishes it a bit. “But this is pretty nice, too.”

Your face grows hot at the compliment. Shoto tucks the Squirtle under his arm and shifts around in the sheets until he finds a comfortable position. He looks adorable and soft as he cradles the bright plush in his strong, muscular hands.

When he finally settles in, he looks up at you enquiringly. “What’s wrong?” He repeats, looping you both back to the conversation form earlier.

“So…” You sigh with embarrassment. “When you didn’t show up and I didn’t hear from you…” You pause and Shoto gives Squirtle a squeeze. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again. Or at least that you didn’t want to make out with me again.”

“Oh.” Shoto wasn’t expecting this. “I thought I made it very clear how…enthusiastically…I enjoyed our time together this afternoon. I didn’t realize I had left any room for you to question my attraction to you.”

“That’s nice to hear…but when you didn’t show at the library or send a text, I assumed the worst. My mind kind of went into full-blown panic mode. I thought maybe once you had time to reflect on our hookup, that you realized you didn’t like it or that you didn’t really like me. To be perfectly honest, I’ve never felt that way before. Usually something like this wouldn’t bother me.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “But I think I really like you and want to be close to you, and the thought that you might not feel the same was tearing me apart for the last couple of hours.”

The words come tumbling from your mouth before you can stop and think them through. Why are you saying all of this!? Why does being around Shoto make you feel so comfortable and open to sharing? It’s so weird – and you’re absolutely sure he’s going to think you’re some kind of over sharing freak for telling him all of this.

Shoto looks at you thoughtfully for a long moment before speaking. “Something I have always admired about you is your ability to be straightforward about what you’re thinking and feeling. Most people aren’t like that, and I have a hard time navigating more subtle situations. Thank you for telling me exactly what you’re thinking – I value it so much.” He runs a hand through his slightly damp hair, moving the bangs out of his bright eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I had abandoned you. I wanted to come to the library so badly. I want to kiss you so badly – it’s all I’ve been thinking about tonight.” His voice is so earnest that you believe him.

“Let me match your honesty with some of my own - my father is extremely strict. Ever since I was born, he’s pushed me to be better. To be stronger. He wants me to surpass him. He wants me to take All Might’s place as the number one hero.”

You gasp at this. Of course you knew that Todoroki was ambitious, but this…

“I don’t have any intentions of becoming harsh and cruel like my father. I’m not even sure if I want to go for the top spot on the hero charts.” He admits, almost bitterly. “That’s the path that my father has laid out for me. He’s obsessed with my training. With my ‘potential.’ But he doesn’t seem to give a fuck about how I feel. Excuse my language.” Shoto looks so sad, so despairing. He hugs the plush close, his chin tucked into his chest as he continues.

“I just want to help people and make them smile – just like All Might. But my old man just doesn’t seem to get that. Today, when he noticed how distracted I was… he didn��t ask if something was wrong. He just pushed me even harder.” Shoto avoids your gaze. “I think he purposefully pushed me to train into the night to keep me from meeting up with you. In his eyes…you’re a huge distraction for his prized creation.”

Suddenly you notice how exhausted Shoto looks – there are pale bags beneath his eyes. You scan his body and see light bruises beginning to form on the exposed skin of his arms. You wonder - just what kind of training has Endeavor been subjecting him to?

You had never guessed that behind Shoto’s calm and collected exterior, there is just a normal teenage boy trying desperately to please his father, while simultaneously trying to defy him. The whole relationship seems complicated and messy and you’re sure what Shoto is telling you is only the tip of a chaotic Todoroki family dynamic iceberg.

“Oh, Shoto.” You say softly. You scoot forward and wrap your arms around him. He freezes, unsure of what to do but nevertheless comforted by the sudden closeness. You reach behind him and card your fingers through his hair. You see goose bumps emerge across his skin, and realize that he likely hasn’t been touched this way before.

“Is it okay to touch you like this?” You whisper.

He breathes out a shaky “yes” as he moves to toss the Squirtle plush to the floor. Once his arms are free, he works to wrap them around you. He rests one strong hand on your back and slings the other around your delicate waist. He draws you close to him and holds you tightly as you continue to run your fingers softly through his two-toned hair.

He’s silent as he buries his head into your shoulder. There’s an emotion that’s radiating off of his body that you can’t quite place – sadness? Frustration? Maybe even relief? After a few moments of running your fingers through his hair and gently up and down his back, he finally starts to relax. The tense muscles in his shoulders loosen, and he seems to come back to himself.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He whispers, muffled as he turns his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m not great at expressing my emotions. I can try to put it into words…I’m feeling so weighed down right now.”

“Because of your father’s expectations?” You prompt, running a light fingertip down his spine. He shivers a bit in response, but not in an unpleasant way.

“Sometimes I wonder if he sees me as a real person, as a son. Or am I just his big project?” Shoto wonders aloud, his voice a bit strained. You feel his eyelashes flutter against the sensitive skin beneath your jawline.

“Shoto...that sounds like a lot to carry. You’re just a high school student – your father shouldn’t be putting that kind of pressure on you. It’s not normal.” You tuck a lock of red hair behind his porcelain ear. “This situation sounds so complicated. It’s no wonder you feel so conflicted. I’m here any time you need a friendly ear to listen as you work through it.” You continue to caress him softly over his clothes. He begins to lean into your touch hungrily. “But right now – at this moment – you’re safe. In this room, in my arms, you don’t need to hold other people’s expectations of you in your heart. When you’re with me, I want you to feel that you can just be Shoto.”

You still your fingers as you let your words sink in. Shoto is radiating a deep sort of sadness that you wish you could smooth away with your fingertips.

“Thank you.” He says, his voice breaking a tiny bit as he processes your words. After a few beats Shoto exhales deeply, his breath ruffles your hair. “I’m not used to talking about these things. Actually, I’m not really used to talking much at all. Or being touched.” You can feel the blush on his delicate cheeks warm the skin of your neck.

“I can tell.” You say before you can stop yourself. To your surprise, he chuckles.

“I don’t know why it’s so easy to do these things with you – talking, touching…kissing.” He lifts his head off of your shoulder to look you square in the face. “There’s something about you…”

Suddenly, the room feels as if it’s charged with Denki’s electrification quirk as his bright mismatched eyes meet your own.

“I think I’d like to continue exploring this with you.” He says matter-of-factly, moving his legs to intertwine with yours.

“W-what does that mean?” Your breath catches in your throat as he dips forward to kiss down your neck.

“It means…I want to keep doing this. Kissing. Talking. I suppose I want to keep getting to know you like this? Intimately.” He places a soft kiss in the hollow behind your earlobe. “Would you like that as well?”

“Yes.” You breathe, with zero hesitation. He smiles into your neck before running the edges of his teeth lightly across your smooth skin. You let out a soft moan in response.

“Good. Then we’ll figure this out together.” He moves to kiss your cheek soundly before releasing you from his embrace. “But right now it’s well past midnight, and we both need our sleep if we’re going to continue to be top of our class alongside YaMomo and Ida. If we both let our grades slip, it might tip people off.” He moves to get off the bed.

“Hey – wait!” You grab his arm and pull him back under the covers. “I have no problem with you staying here for the night.”

“But wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” Shoto’s face reddens, but he lets himself be drawn back into your gentle embrace.

“Would it be anymore inappropriate than you making out with my tits?” Shoto’s face burns an even brighter red at this question, but he also looks quite pleased with himself (you assume he’s recalling the way he kissed down your breasts earlier that day as he smirks). “Sharing a bed should be perfectly responsible as long as we keep all of our clothes on. You said you want to explore? Well get over here and let’s figure out if you make a good big spoon.”

This earns one of those rare full smiles from Shoto – he practically glows. “Alright.”

He pulls himself close to you. You reach above your head and switch off the string lights that wind their way around your room, and the tiny dorm fills with darkness.

You turn to face the wall and scoot your body back until you feel Shoto’s solid warmth. He reaches around to pull you close until bodies are touching, flush together. You tuck yourself into Shoto’s warm, muscular body and sigh with contentment.

“So do I make a good big spoon?” He questions, tentatively nuzzling his face into your hair and inhaling deeply. “Mmm, your hair smells like lavender.”

“We’ll need plenty of practice to truly ascertain the full range of your spooning abilities.” You say in a faux-academic voice, causing him to snort out a laugh. “But so far you’re doing great.”

You interlock your legs and pull his strong arms around you. You wiggle a bit as you try to find the comfiest spot in the mattress. You unintentionally grind a bit against Shoto and jolt when you feel something hard pressed against the curve of your ass.

“Sorry.” He mutters softly, embarrassed.

“Maybe I’ll take care of that for you tomorrow.” You yawn as you close your eyes and settle in for a good night’s rest. You grin into the darkness as you feel Shoto’s dick get even harder as he mulls over your response, wondering at what you could possibly mean by “take care of that.”

You didn’t realize you were so tired. You’re dimly aware of Shoto’s breathing growing slow as he drifts off into a comfortable sleep. You smile softly to yourself as you slide further into his embrace. This poor, touch-starved boy has been through so many terrible things and your heart aches for him.

Even in sleep he’s tense, his jawline stiff and his muscles almost locked around you. But he’s warm and soft and smells like jasmine and mint tea. You hope that for the next few hours you can provide him with a safe harbor to rest and escape his troubles. You let your eyes flutter close and breathe in deeply, dreaming of Shoto’s sweet face as you fall gently into sleep’s embrace.

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

Part 3

🔥 Link to My Master List 🔥

[milswrites]

Unspoken Love

~ Eris Vanserra X Fem!Reader

Summary: All the ways in which Eris shows you he loves you.

Warnings: Fluffy goodness. Nudity (non-sexual). Period cramps.

Notes: This is for everyone who just longs to see Eris happy and in love (and more specifically for @searchingforbucky because I never would have written this if it wasn’t for you)

A Hopeless Prince

Eris had a silver tongue.

Centuries of speaking in court allowing him to become a master at crafting words. The Autumn Prince blessed with the gift of bending truths and delivering commands as though they were the sweetest poetry.

And yet, despite his eloquence in speech, Eris had one problem.

A cursed inability to voice his feelings.

It was a skill the red-haired prince had never required, a mask of cool indifference being the best item a male could wear in court. Emotions were a weakness that Eris couldn't allow himself to have on display, not in Autumn.

Until he met you. Then suddenly and all at once Eris found himself a victim to his own heart's desire.

A single look, that was all that was needed for Eris Vanserra to fall in love. One look and the male was certain he had found his equal.

Yet despite the instantaneous nature of his feelings for you, Eris found his tongue locked in your presence. The three words which he so longed to tell you caged within the confines of his mouth.

Eris loved you.

An all consuming love in which the heat of his desire burned brighter than any inferno he could muster with his own palms. And yet he still couldn't find the words to tell you this. But despite his inability to voice his emotions, Eris fought against his insecurities to make sure he let you know the depths of his feelings in other ways.

He made sure to tell you with the soothing tea he made for you each morning. With the gentle kiss he always laid upon your cheek as you stirred from your slumber. He made sure you knew with his sweet compliments and admiring eyes as he soaked in your radiant beauty for as long as you would allow.

Eris loved you.

He only hoped that one day he would be able to tell you this himself.

A Comforting Presence

Time was a scarce luxury for you and Eris.

Between his courtly duties and your equally busy schedule, quality time together was a rare sight.

Whenever you managed to find a moment of peace, free from your responsibilities and ready to devote all of your attention to the Autumn Prince, Eris always had the rotten luck of being called away to another task.

Which is why you often found yourself in this position; tucked away in a hidden area of the library, curled up with a good book whilst you waited for Eris to finish his daily obligations. The books you read acting as a blissful escape from the usually restless bustle of the Autumn Court.

It was all to easy for you to hide from reality between the inked pages. To allow your mind to freely wander amongst the stories while the time slowly passed until you could see Eris again. Working your way through Autumn's large expanse of literature as each day came and went.

So it was no wonder how in your dream-like trance you didn't notice the watchful figure admiring you from afar. It took three attempts of Eris softly clearing his throat before he was able to capture your attention and draw your gaze from the book in your hands. Tensing, your alarmed eyes swiftly flew towards the source of the sound, your muscles relaxing upon seeing the familiar face of your lover.

You took the time to admire Eris where he stood, shameless eyes raking over his well-defined figure before coming to a stop at the stack of documents which were clutched tightly in his hands.

"Another meeting?" you quietly ask with a sad smile, assuming that Eris had only dropped by for a short respite and a quick hello before he needed to return to his obligations.

Eris approached you, placing a delicate kiss onto your temple before moving to sit down in the armchair beside you. "Actually," he started, the low rumble of his voice cutting through the silence of the library, "I thought I might finish off my work here, if that is alright with you of course?"

You didn't fail to miss the light dusting of redness which blossomed on Eris's cheeks, nor the embarrassed edge to his tone as he spoke. Worried that the male would allow his insecurities to take control, you stretched out your hand to entwine it with his own, locking together your fingers as your thumb moved to rub soothing circles into his skin.

"I'd love nothing more" you answered honestly, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

The two of you sat in a peaceful silence, Eris beginning to work through his papers and you picking up your story from where you left off. Yet despite your different activities your hands remained placed in each other's, Eris placing the occasional kiss onto the back of your own whenever he sat back to ponder over what he was writing.

The two of you didn't speak; you didn't need to. Not when the comfort of each other's company was enough. It could have been hours until words were exchanged between you once more, the silence broken by a gasp escaping from your lips as you reached an exciting part of your story. Intrigued, Eris looked over to where you were sat.

"What is it?" he asked, straining his neck to peer over and try and catch a glimpse of your book. Interested eyes flashing over to your own wide ones.

"Nothing, sorry! Something big just happened, I'll try to stay quiet" you promised, afraid that if you were to disturb Eris from his work he would leave to finish it elsewhere.

Eris slowly nodded in acknowledgement, turning back to his papers to continue his writings, and yet it was impossible to stop his amber eyes from travelling back to your face. Brows knitting together as he took in the bright glint in your eye and the curling of your lips as you read.

Needing to satisfy his curiosity, Eris asked you once more, "What is it? What are you smiling at?"

"Shouldn't you be working?" you teased, noting the nosy way in which the Autumn Prince was trying to snoop at the page you were reading.

"Work can wait" he huffed, snatching the book from your hands, "I'm more interested in what's going on in that pretty little mind of yours."

And as you sat in Eris's lap, happily chatting away as his work laid unfinished and forgotten, the male promised himself he would always make time for you. Because no job, nor meeting, would ever be more important than getting to see you smile.

A Helping Hand

A groan of frustration tore from your lips as you entered your shared chambers. Distressed eyes meeting the teasing stare of your amused lover who was sprawled across the bed, no doubt having been waiting for your arrival.

A soft chuckle leaving Eris's lips at the sight of your disheveled form, "Difficult day, Little Fox?"

Having finally reached the sanctuary of your room, the weight of the days trials finally settled as your eyes began to uncomfortably sting with tears. Noticing your crumbling composure, Eris swiftly made his way over from the bed to where you were stood, gentle hands coming to rest against your cheeks as his searching eyes scanned over your frame.

Your appearance clearly worrying him as the male immediately pulled you into a crushing embrace.

Face now pressed into the exposed skin of Eris's chest where the top of his shirt was splayed open, you allowed yourself to deeply inhale the familiar scent of your partner. The smell of him alone enough to bring you the comfort you needed. The Autumn Prince held your tears at bay, both by the gentle caress of his hands against your body and the soothing murmurings of solace he offered you.

It was only when your breathing steadied, and the irregular pounding of your heart had subsided, did Eris then allow himself to pull away. "Do you want to talk about it?" Eris asked tentatively, lifting a tender hand to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear, "Or would you just like me to take care of you?"

Your heart lovingly ached at the male's compassion, his words the same ones you recite to him each time he comes back to your chambers forlorn and dejected after a difficult day.

"Will you take care of me?" you asked your prince, a single tear falling down your cheek. Not at the expense of your terrible day, but at the overwhelming surge of empathy swimming in your lover's eyes.

"Always" Eris replied, kissing away your lonely tear.

The Autumn Prince needn't be told what to do; silently leading you to the bed with a promise of returning.

You waited patiently for the male as he prepared your bath, the male filling the tub with an assortment of luxurious oils and healing salts. It was only when Eris was satisfied with the temperature of the steaming water, did he then return to carry you into the bathroom.

Eris's hands worked to aid you in unlacing the corset of your dress before he gathered the silk of the slip underneath to help remove it from your exhausted frame. Once free from the confines of your clothing, Eris supportively held your hand as he carefully assisted you in getting into the bath. Allowing you to adjust to the temperate waters before moving behind you to wash your hair.

Eris had the hands of a prince, smooth and unscarred, free from the marks of labor. Yet despite the polished nature of his nimble fingers, they worked wonders whilst running through your dampened hair and massaging your aching scalp. Each gentle rub as he worked the pine scented soap into your hair being enough to draw sounds of contented pleasure from your lips.

Your love was an expert at knowing what you needed, and as he worked to was the pollutant worried of the day gone by from your skin, Eris filled your ears with light-hearted stories of his own day.

It wasn't long before the sweet sound of laughter filled the room, memories of your sour day long forgotten as you merrily conversed with your partner.

The only thing that mattered in this moment of time was him.

And as your eyes caught Eris periodically sinking his hands into the lukewarm water to rise its temperature to an adequate level, you knew there was no one else in the world you would rather have take care of you. No man that you would rather love.

A Treasured Gift

Life with Eris meant you needn't want for anything.

He made sure to spoil you with more dresses than you would ever need and your collection of jewels had grown so large they now spilled from the box you kept them in.

But your favourite gift you had received from Eris wasn't the diamond encrusted tiara he had given you for your birthday, nor the prize mare he had surprised you with on the anniversary of your relationship.

No, the best gift Eris had ever given you was his mind, scrawled between the pages of a book. . .

Your lover's nerves were almost tangible as he approached, hands hidden behind his back as he slowly stalked in your direction. Low whispers of self-encouragement upon his lips as he set his determined eyes on you.

It was unusual, to see the usually confident male blanching in your presence, all colour drawn from his usually lifeful cheeks. Eris’s foot tapping restlessly against the floor when he finally came to a stop before you.

You made to greet your prince with a kiss, but Eris's shaky words interrupted your action. "I have something for you" he said, offering you an anxious smile as your brows raised in surprise, thoughts racing as you desperately tried to remember whether this day held any important significance that you had forgotten.

Noting your panicked expression Eris immediately blurted, "It's nothing big! Just something small I've been working on for you."

Eris was slow to draw his hands from behind his back, nervous eyes meeting your curious ones as you took in what he was holding.

"A book?" you asked, taking it from his slightly trembling hand in order to cast your inspecting gaze of the cover. Tales of the heart. Your favourite story.

A book you have read over a dozen times before. So why would Eris gift you a copy of a book you already owned? Sure your copy was tattered and well loved, but did it really require a replacement?

Ever the perceptive male, Eris inhaled deeply before explaining the reasoning of his gift, "I know I'm not the best at voicing how I feel. . . So I thought you could read it instead."

His expectant eyes urged you to open the book, so you did just that.

Peeling back the cover, you were greeted with Eris's familiar penmanship, the black ink which marked the page curling into words which made your heart swell:

You are my everything, nothing more and nothing less.

With watery eyes you eagerly flicked through the book, breath catching in your throat as you observed the ink covered pages. Eris had underlined all his favourite passages, each one accompanied by scribbles of his comments and opinions, the margins overflowing with carefully worded text.

Here in your hands you held a window into Eris's soul. His emotions laid bare across each page, exposing his mind and sharing his thoughts.

This little book, which fit snugly into the palm of your hand, was an offering. An invitation to get to know the male better, to understand Eris in his entirety.

Finding yourself lost for words you did the only thing you could do, pulling the Autumn Prince into a heated kiss of appreciation. Arms flying around his neck in an attempt to draw him in closer, doing your best to pour every ounce of love and praise into each gentle caress of your lips against his.

Anticipation growing in your chest at the prospect of delving into the book later on in the day, eagerly awaiting your exploration of Eris Vanserra’s mind.

A Heated Touch

You were in agony.

Bound to your bed, wallowing in your own misery as you clutched onto your abdomen with the hope of quelling the rising tide of pain.

It was that time of the year, your aching body signaling the unwelcome arrival of your cycle.

Eris had been reluctant to leave you this morning, worried about your ability to take care of yourself. Despite wanting nothing more than to spend the day wrapped in the loving arms of your partner, you half-heartedly pushed him from your bed, knowing the male had an abundance of dull meetings to attend today.

Yet now as you laid under your covers, curled into a ball as you miserably absorbed each aching stab of pain, you wished that you had never sent Eris away. Your suffering only increasing as the hours passed by.

You would search for your lover if you could, call him from his meetings and draw him back to your bed, but with a head like cotton and a body like lead you had no choice but to lay with your torturous discomfort in solitude.

Though thankfully, Eris had other plans. Unsatisfied with leaving his partner to suffer alone during her cycle, he had spent the morning postponing his meetings and delegating his work elsewhere. Anxiously wishing away the time until he was able to return to his chambers and take care of you.

Wasting no time once the rearrangement of his tasks had been completed, hurrying to the kitchen to make you a healing cup of medicinal tea before making his way to your shared room.

Opening the door to find you exactly where he had left you, huddled under the covers and eyes tightly closed as you tried to wait out wave after wave of pulsating pain.

Heart clenching at the sight of you in agony, Eris uttered curses to the gods for bestowing you with a pain that he could not fix. Sympathy flooding into his eyes as he came to sit by your side, raising a comforting hand to brush against your cheek and pull you from your fitful slumber.

"My poor Little Fox" he empathetically cooed, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose as you stirred from your sleep. Eyes blinking open, a weak smile graced your lips as the welcoming sight of your lover greeted you.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, brows furrowing at the wince which crossed your face as you turned your body to face him better.

"Will you hold me?" you pouted lamely, tears threatening to fall now your partner was here to comfort you.

"Of course" Eris answered, needing no further instruction as he moved to climb into the bed behind you, arms reaching out across the sheets to pull you towards him until your back pressed against his chest. A pained whimper drawing from your lips as he did so, Eris cursing himself for bringing you more anguish.

"May I try something?" Eris asked, seeking your permission for what he was about to do. Nausea building in your throat, you feebly nodded. What was the worse that could happen when you already felt like death itself?

Careful not to disturb you too much, Eris snaked his hands around your middle, moving them down towards your aching abdomen before allowing his hands to gradually heat to a bearable temperature.

A deep breath of satisfaction escaped from your lips at his heated touch. The ghost of Eris's flames working to quell your pain and soothe your aching.

"You are never leaving my side again" you giggled in relief, bringing your hands to rest against his own in the hope of absorbing each remnant of heat which Eris provided you with.

"That is something we can agree on" Eris purred, drawing you into his embrace further still, warm lips brushing against your neck as he continued, "There is nowhere else I would rather be."

And as Eris watched you fall into a blissful slumber, contented smiles resting upon each of your faces, the Autumn Prince could have sworn that the three words he so longed to tell you were patiently waiting on the tip of his tongue.

A Lover's Vow

It had taken you weeks to read through Eris's gift. Having opted to take the time to appreciate each little comment your partner had scribbled onto the pages.

Each word you read opening your eyes to a new side of the Autumn Prince, showing you glimmers of a male that felt and felt deeply. Every new thing you learnt about your lover working to crack the mask which he so often wore.

Now reaching the end of your story you didn't want it to end. You wanted - no needed- to learn everything you could about the male, feeling as though this gift had only scratched the surface when it came to introducing you to the mystery that was Eris Vanserra.

You had laughed, you had cried, and now turning to finish the final page you only longed to experience it all again.

Your curiosity would never be satisfied, not when it came to Eris.

Why is why you were pleasantly surprised, that when the final words had been read, a sealed letter which had been hidden between the pages dropped into your lap. The crimson ink which adorned the envelope staring right back at you as your wide eyes took in the message that was addressed to you.

Your happy ending, Little Fox.

You weren't sure why your heart had stopped at the sight of the letter, nor were you able to explain why your hands trembled nervously as you tore open the paper. Shaking as you removed the note which had been neatly tucked inside.

Pearlescent tears began to fall down your blushing cheeks as you read Eris's words, failing to even finish the letter before you had jumped on your feet and began to run.

You were unsure of where you were heading, but the one thing you were certain of was that Eris would be at the end of it. The letter now crumpled within your tight grip as you ran, afraid to let it go and lose the words which you had been so desperate to hear.

So you didn't stop, allowing your feet to carry you towards Eris, towards your answers. Only slowing down to catch your breath when you saw your partner outside, leading his horse back to the stables through the torrential rain.

Uncaring of the fact your clothes were not appropriate for the miserable weather, you closed the distance between you and the male. Mud splashing at your calves as you rushed towards him.

Eris didn't fail to miss your sodden figure running towards him, eyes blowing wide in alarm at your sudden appearance. Worried for your sanity, he immediately dropped the reins from his hands as he ran to meet you halfway.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed, concerned eyes taking in the sorry state of your wild appearance, the male moving to grip your arm and move you towards shelter but not before you had forcefully ripped your arm from his hold.

"Is it true?" you asked, your silver tears mixing with the cooling rain which was beating against your flushed face.

"Is what true?" Eris cried, brows knitted together in confusion until his gaze dropped to the letter clutched tightly in your hand and then suddenly it all made sense.

"Yes. . ." he weakly replied after a moment, his surprise at your unexpected appearance having stolen his words.

"You love me?" you pressed further, taking a step closer to your anxious partner, lifting your fist which held the now sodden letter, "What you wrote, do you mean it?"

Eris scoffed at the ridiculous nature of your question, "Mean it? Of course I mean it, I wouldn't write it if I didn't."

"Say it" you ordered, "Please. I need to hear you say it."

The old Eris would have walked away, ignored your demands and fought against his tempestuous emotions. He would have never been able to express how he felt, unable to allow the words to escape from his lips.

Yet with one look at you, saturated hair clinging to your cheeks as you looked towards the male in desperation, Eris could feel his mask slipping. The stone veil falling from his face before it dropped to the ground and shattered.

And for the first time in your life you were staring at the true face of Eris Vanserra.

Tears streaming down his face as he allowed the wave of his once hidden emotions to crash over him.

"I love you" he confessed, burning stare meeting your own, "gods I love you."

A delighted laugh broke from the males lips as the weight of his confession lifted from his chest, hands flying to your smiling cheeks as the truth of his affections continued to flow, "Mind, body, soul, I'm yours. All of me. Mask or no mask, I have always belonged to you. I love you so much, and I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you this sooner."

"But I knew, Eris" you cried along with your partner, the heated touch of his warming palms enough to burn your tears away as they came, "Even though you never said it aloud I always knew, because you showed it to me in every way that counts. You have never failed to make me feel anything but loved."

"And do you?" he asked through heavy breaths, "Do you feel the same for me as I do for you?"

"Eris Vanserra" you beamed up at the male before you, eyes glistening as you absorbed the rawness of his heartfelt expression, " I have loved you since before I ever even knew you, and I always will. My heart belongs to you Eris, until my dying breath."

Unable to stop the sob which tore from his lips, Eris allowed himself to cry, arms coming to wrap around your middle in a crushing embrace as he sought to stabilize his trembling frame.

"I think I'm going to need a new letter" you mumbled into his chest, the ruined piece of paper having fallen to the rain-soaked ground in the midst of your embrace.

"I'll write you a thousand more if that's what you want" Eris promised, lips coming to softly press against you head as his tears subsided, "But I think I'd rather tell you how I feel from now on."

"I'd like that" you replied staring up at the male you loved so dearly, "I'd like that very much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Ahhh I love this fic so much! Thank you @sarawritestories for holding my hand and walking me through this 😂

[sailing-ever-west]

The Vinsmoke men are misogynistic and it's so narratively important even though it's mostly subtext and never outright stated. None of them ever say anything against women specifically, and they don't seem to discriminate as far as who can be warriors, but their actions reek of it nonetheless and I can't stop thinking about it.

On the surface it seems like Sanji gives thought to treating women differently and the Vinsmokes don't, but it's clear through their actions that the only "equality" they're really upholding is that no gender is exempt from abuse and exploitation.

It's like when people say "well if you want equality, women should get drafted into the military too!" When the problem is that no one should be forced to join the military. That's basically exactly what Germa is doing.

Sanji's view of women is frequently flawed and a bit myopic, but he seeks to treat them with kindness and love and respect, whereas the Vinsmokes make no attempt at philosophy about women and just treat them horribly.

The most glaring example is probably Cosette, who they berated for making food they didn't like and then proceeded to beat unconscious solely to shatter her confidence and upset Sanji. And when Sanji is understandably enraged at their horrible abuse, they assume the reason is that he was physically attracted to her and didn't want the object of his attraction damaged (saying they didn't know he Liked her, and if the busted up face wasn't a dealbreaker they could make her Sanji's personal attendant, which also reaaally sounds like code for something else).

Another aspect is that despite having no emotions, the Vinsmoke brothers still seem to experience attraction to women. But it's not love in any sense of the word, just purely physical. They find Nami attractive, even wanting to arrange to keep her around when the Strawhats are captured by Big Mom (ew), and there's that scene of them and Judge in their private room surrounded by mostly drunken unconscious (and rather scantily dressed if I remember correctly) barmaids that were sent to them. Granted, nothing Happens in that scene, but the undertones are gross and we're only shown a small portion of the night. Whatever the case, it's clear that these women were not sent in to be equal, respectable company, but an objectified distraction to pair with alcohol, and were treated as such.

And then there are the internal family dynamics, which I think are the biggest and most important part.

To start, there's Reiju. On the surface she seems like she has the same status as her brothers, a modified Germa weapon capable of performing as her father wants. But whenever Judge talks about being proud of his children, he always emphasizes the triplets. Often he doesn't even mention Reiju, and his attention to the boys' training seems to be much closer than to hers. Her raid suit is also more sexualized, as though that's expected to be part of her arsenal. And of course, there's her name meaning "zero" while the boys are all numbered. She is the eldest, but she survives by being ignored, and it's clear that her father prefers her emotionless brothers. This feels symbolic as well since being emotional is often seen as a feminine trait, portrayed as a weakness. Judge hates weakness. And so he hates emotion, hates women.

But at the root of it all, really, is Sora. Sora who's choices and body and children were stolen from her for an abusive man's ideals about war and domination. We don't really get to know how much choice she had in her marriage, but given Judge's royal status and the fact that they obviously share zero values I think it would have to be a strategic political arrangement at best, and something she got no say in at worst.

The kids are all named in a numbering system, which also reeks of Judge not letting her into the decisions. And, of course, there is the absolutely horrific experience of being forced into prenatal surgery to genetically modify her children against her will, to the point that the only way she could exercise any agency was to poison herself in an attempt to save even one of them. She was literally just a baby-producing machine to Judge and it couldn't be more blatant.

The violent, self-centered, and misogynistic Vinsmoke brothers are born directly from a woman's choice being taken away from her. Kind, selfless, and loving Sanji is born directly from her one act of defiance, and then later saved by his sister's one act of defiance as well (after which, she was programmed to be obedient).

Basically, the Vinsmoke family is built and preserved on the abuse and exploitation of women, and Sanji is the black sheep for many reasons, but I suspect a rather large one is that he's the ultimate antithesis to that.

[twost3ps]

I love guitarhero, mostly thanks to you! But now I have to ask. What would guitarhero’s first fight would be? I’m all in for the sweetness, fluff, and romance. But they have got to have a sort of quarrel at some point. Unless it’ll never happen, thats fine too!

OH THANK YOU WHOOP- 😳

That is such an honor rfiycbyfeyicbeficyb AUYWUYAWFGuyaG

But man that’s actually a hard question…

I’m not sure but they do quarrel quite a bit. Still a definite believer that Adam is a brat who is madly stubborn and crass, and while Micheal is pliant to most of Adam’s wants and opinions he does put his foot down from time to time. Every couple is bound to argue but that’s honestly something that makes any relationship stronger- working around problems.

But they’ve had fights before

Short answer:

In eden their first argument would have about the value of life. In heaven, it was to do with Adam's abandonment issues because of Micheal's work

Long answer:

For me, their first ever argument, not even as a couple just in general, was the value of life in Eden/earth. I kinda explored that in one of my other posts, but to keep it short- at some point Micheal had looked at what was ‘mortal life’ as inferior. The way angels and humans inherently view life is vastly different, for me personally. And when Micheal found himself in the garden and finally met Adam, who he thought as a miracle by god, he still didn’t value the other life in there as equally. Adam definitely got mad when Micheal would scoff at and ignore the animals who were trying to capture his attention. Adam was really soft to all the animals- closest thing he had to children back then (his little babies) They get into a couple more arguments about it till Adam put his foot down. He felt it on a level unfair that there was a clear bias to him and the other life and that Micheal’s behavior and Micheal tells him he is unable to understand the connection because he just doesn’t feel it. Then it’s this whole thing of Adam dragging Micheal everywhere and showing him the wonders of life, and like really showing him. Making him wait and watch. It’s a lust for life kind of thing. The valve of the living experience and Micheal slowly comes to understand lol

In heaven they would quarrel about like general stuff that couples do but-

I think their first real genuine argument up in heaven would probably have to do with Micheal’s responsibilities and Adam’s relationship insecurity.

Micheal is a man dedicated to order. He willingly takes on more work so that peace is kept, especially because he thinks its HIS duty. Mainly a mix of Lucifer’s fall with the apple and the fallout of it- Micheal felt as the eldest sibling, being Lucifer’s closest twin (or triplet but that’s for another time), and being ones of the few guards of eden, in a way the fall was kinda his fault. And while waiting for Adam to get into heaven, Micheal took on some of Lucifur's old responsibilities and additional duties that had been created because of the fall.

Anyway tldr: the fall caused Micheal to become very work active as a way to cope with the loss of his brother. He feels the need to constantly work to keep peace and also to never think about his personal failures lololol (if I don't think about it its not there mindset- very counter productive lol) He just wants that CONTROL

When Adam finally gets into heaven, that's finally when Micheal halts some of his duties. He makes time out of his schedule just for Adam. I mean, yes, Adam has training with Micheal so that he can be supervised, but Micheal makes REAL time just to have personal one on one time with him. There is though, that nagging part of him thats yelling at him to work.

And it stays like that for a while till finally more winners come up into heaven and there is a steady growth of the birth rate at Earth. Then the work is stating to pile high and Micheal is actively being called in. He falls back into his older routine, of working and working. Old habits die hard and he adds on more work than he really needs to. It's all about having that control bby. And while Micheal is attempting to do work, his personal time with Adam lessens and lessens. He thinks it's fine because a long time has passed and Adam has assimilated pretty well into heaven by then and what he's doing is benefiting Adam's descendants.

As for Adam, he definitely has relationship issues- specifically abandonment issues. With Lilith and Lucifer obviously and a bit of Eve (cuz of the possible infidelity thing and I don’t think she’s in heaven). Micheal had been his rock. The one part of Eden he still had. He also Adam's break. As a winner, Adam was relieved of his earthly duties. He was free to chill and relax (training was Micheal's idea, but Adam had the freedom to refuse) Relaxing is his time with Micheal because it's how he relaxed in eden. And now that Micheal was going away more, he felt scared. He afraid of being tossed to the side again and this made Adam more clingy. Whenever Micheal would tell him he’d have to leave, he’d try to cling on to him and tell him that he could just do it later. Both are emotionally constipated so instead of talking it out immediately they let that stuff marinate and build up, expecting the other to address it.

It all blows up when Micheal is called in for this very important project and Adam is trying to make excuses for him to stay. This has been going on for a while and both of them just snap and words are thrown around. Neither of them have ever had a fight like this before and it ends really badly.

Both stop talking to each other for a while, but it's obvious it's taking a toll on them.

Micheal has buried himself in his work, and despite his dedication, he's become very sloppy.

Adam hangs around in their old hangout spots but clearly wants no one around. He's a lot more quiet but very heated when he actually speaks.

Even when they see each other in training, they actively avoid each other. Adam even dropped out after some point.

It's until Gabriel intervenes that he forces the two to talk it out.

It's rough, and ends in tears and stuff. All that jam.

Adam comes to understand that Micheal has a life outside of him. That while he is granted a life of leisure, the other angels have their duties that they must attend to as well. It hurts, but still. But he also gains comfort knowing that Micheal would not willingly abandon him for his work. That what he's doing is also for both of their families.

Micheal is confronted with the fact that just overworks himself. That he puts too much time in trying to take control that he's losing control of himself and the relationships he has (his work has not blocked his relationship with Adam but also with his siblings) He also comes to the realization that Adam still needs him, not just to guide him, but also be there for him.

Both are also coming to the understanding that they really need to talk about how the fall and eden in general affected them. They work it out. It forges a deep bond between them because they both now that they understand and relate to one another URGWIEGFKWEUBHo

Theres also like, a bunch of other issues that they address as well

This argument also might pipeline to why adam gets into heavenly politics. It was a way of him getting directly involved with his descendants but also to watch over Micheal, because if that man is going to try and listen to anyone its gonna be Adam. Of course theres more to it than just that but thats a part of it.

ALSO im so sorry to the the ppl who have sent me asks Ive just been crazy sick and delirious. But i really wanted to answer this question lol

I'll be answering the ones I don't have any sketches for maybe 2day or tommorow. For the other asks im so sorry but i wanna draw them ,esuFwejvfejwyv

[dancingundermoonlight101]

-Orion Pax's Diary-

Is there a right way to love? Or is love subjective to the one experiencing it? It is not often me and Megaronus speak on the subject. He thinks it is something only those privileged enough to not worry about death are allowed to feel and pursue. But that doesn't mean we haven't talked about it.

I have heard, whether he knows it or not, the exact way he'd love. He'd not be shy on compliments. Megaronus would admire the one he loves from head to pede and say out loud how beautiful they'd be. Gorgeous. He'd admire their frame silently, too. His optics full of worship.

It has me thinking about the way I love him. I feel like I'm lacking. I know subjectively that Megatronus is a very attractive mech, yet that's not what I think about when I'm with him. I think on the way he makes me feel, how his presence draws me in, and how his words always capture my attention. He is a melody I'd never tire of hearing. A flawed painting that I'd never tire of seeing. But even so, do I truly love him if I can't even compliment his looks? It feels like a no-brainer in my processor. Megatronus is undeniably attractive. But I feel like since it's such an obvious thing that it would be alright to not mention it. Primus, why am I even thinking about this? Megatronus doesn't love me. But.. if we were to be together. Would this be the cause of some problems? Would he want to receive compliments but find none with me? I don't want that. I want Megatronus to always know how much I love him! But do I really love him? Well, the answer is yes. But what if it's just deep admiration? Sure, my spark aches to think him betrothed to another, and I might already be planning a lonely future for myself where he's already conjuxed, and I can't let go of these feelings. But what if they're just that? Daydreams? Could I be in love with how unattainable he is?

My reason for thinking this is how often dreams I'm having include me and Megaronus possibly being together. Megatronus confessed to me in one of them, yet I felt conflicted. I wanted to emediatly say yes, but another part of me felt speechless. I didn't want to accept, but I didn't want to deny either. Neither I nor him are ready for commitment. He himself has told me that. I wouldn't want to selfishly jump into a relationship that won't last. I want me and Megaronus to be together for a long, long time. But these dreams keep reminding me how I'm likely not going to want a relationship with him without that trust that I'm not just a spur of the moment choice.

It's foolish and an insult to Megatronus to think him so shallow. He would definitely put a lot of thought into his decision. But the anxiety in my spark can't help but think that I'm not going to be worthy of such thought. That if he were to confess to me, I would just be the easy option because of how much I want to be with him. It hurts. I have never felt such conflicting feelings inside me. Would others judge me? "Why love a mech you can't trust?" Or "If you don't want to be something with him right now, why still pursue him?"

I love him, and I do trust him. I just don't trust myself. Who would love and cherish the thoughts and ideas of a boring librarian like me? I'm not even that attractive, nor am I strong. He would definitely want to be with someone as strong as him. His equal. Megatronus has a mind like no other. I hope that, if I try hard enough, I can stand together with him. At least in that regard.

He challenges my thinking, my way of life. I love how he inspires change in me like no other. Perhaps I have tunnel vision, but I see no other future I'd rather have than one where me and him are together. There would never be a day I wouldn't thank Primus for letting me be lucky enough to be with him. Where I wouldn't try my best to let him know how much he is loved. How he is worthy of every achievement. I would comfort him, too, to the best of my abilities when something is wrong.

I just.. want to experience all the good and bad that life has to offer with him. Forever. It's just.. not the right time.

Will there ever be a right time?

[atla-confessions]

I wish they would because it'd be funny as fuck but it might kill the mod

Lets put this in terms you might understand. Im going to repeat what you said, and then make a Katara 'critcism' of equal value

zk: aang is kind of inattentive and gets distracted easily

"Katara is kind of mean and gets really prideful and self-righteous"

These are two things Aang does, and two things Katara does, but if we made this Katara's entire fucking personality, that would be anti Katara

zk: aang yelling at toph was kinda shitty

"Katara making the blind comment at Toph was kinda shitty."

"Katara saying Sokka didnt love their mom like she did was kinda shitty."

The statement about Aang is true, as are these statments about Katara. If we were to call Katara a bad friend because of these, or toxic, or bring it up as reason that Katara isnt deserving of Aang, that would be anti Katara

zk: aang getting so jealous at the idea of Katara being with someone else that he would go into the Avatar state is kind of problematic

"Katara getting so jealous of Aang she says shes not going to come watch him ride the unagi to make sure hes okay is kind of problematic"

Neither of these statements are true. Both are ignoring the larger context and making their behavior out to be jealousy when its not. Aang was upset about the play as a whole. His comment about the avatar state was clearly not a literal thing, but him trying to express how upset the play as a whole has made him. Katara was upset Aang was being irresposible and letting the praise get to his head and didnt want to come watch him show off.

Aang doesnt even show any jealousy in this scene, zutara shippers just like making it about themselves. Aang doesnt mention Zuko once. Hes not thinking "Katara might have feelings for someone else" hes thinking "I dont know where I personally stand with Katara as she has been sending mixed signals." Which is, frankly, reasonable, even if he went about trying to express this in the wrong way. Thats not jealousy, thats a basic desire of wanting someone to communicate with you.

Painting Katara's frusteration and refusal to care about the potential of Aang getting hurt as just toxic jealousy would be anti Katara.

zk: here's a fic where aang faces consequences for burning Katara

Now, before I go into this one, lets remember the real consequences Aang faced, like getting jumped and slammed into the ground, like feeling so guilty as to swear off something he needs to save the world, like this incedent shown to be one of the things that haunt Aang the most when hes opening his chakras. Like this insident (incident? Im not looking it up rn) literally being the context in which he allows Zuko into their lives as he believes Zuko can help teach him firebending in such a way as to avoid ever hurting someone again.

Heres a list of things Katara did and did not face consequences for: abandoning Aang along with Sokka because Aang withheld a map for a few hours, stealing a waterbending scroll and sneaking to use it despite agreeing not to and putting everyone in danger, (she got saved and still got to keep the scroll, even made it very obvious she felt no remorse for this, I consider that not facing consequences), making Aang think Appa was sick, telling people Aang is the avatar because shes proud of it despite that putting Aang in danger many times, encouraging Aang to throw himself at problems with no help like Hei Bai and the NWT invasion, stealing appa after Aang said he did not want her to.

If someone were to write a fic where Aang's mistakes are ignored, and these mistakes of Katara's were emphasized and used as reasoning shes not good for Aang, to the point where they add consequences that didnt happen but could have happened, like Aang getting captured and/or hurt in order to make her feel guilty, that would be, say it with me, anti Katara.

When someone ephasizes or exaggerates a characters flaws while ignoring their good deeds and qualities, that is being anti, not fair criticism, especially if they do it while ignoring most of the flaws and mistakes another character has made and treating them as near perfect and a victim of the first character.

Most zutara shippers are not interested in analyzing the show for the sake of fair criticism of characters. If they were, they would be pointing out Katara's mistakes just as often as Aang's. They are only interested in justifying their dislike for Aang.

X

[bobbydagen24]

Harshly Honest opinion but the Creek Hate from the Fandom is unfair.

I'm going to address all the Reasons why Creek is Hated by the Fandom so Buckle up. ( ps I'm not looking for a fight so if you wanna Respectfully Debate my points I'm all ears but if your gonna act condescending or Rude about the points then your just gonna be ignored )

first off about him selling out the village

well if you examine the movie you can see it was written in such a way where his literal only choices were to do what he did or die Horribly

and how he was put into a worse situation overall than any of the other Trolls were based on what he was put through and how immediate the Danger was to him

Really no one else in the film was put in as bad a situation as he was so no one can Really Judge him since everyone else was always given the option of sitting tight and Hoping to be Rescued but Creek never was.

what ruins his Role as a supposed villain is him being plucked out of the cage and separated from everyone else early on.

as if he had say attracted Gristle and Chef's attention from when he was in the cage and approached them offering to sell out the village for his own life then I'd find that a tad easier to judge

because he still had the choice of sitting tight and waiting to be rescued with his friends but he chose to have a lack of faith in the

people he claimed to care about and instead tried to take an easier way out by Harming others even tho he had other choices.

but him being taken from the cage early on through no fault of his own and literally not agreeing until he was on the verge of being eaten alive

and then being stuffed in a tiny locket on his own with no air holes for hours on end which is basically torture I mean the poor guy was Begging for Help and Mercy when Gristle showed him to Bridget during their Date.

it just makes it hard for me to blame him tbh like even when he's reunited with a captured Poppy I don't really think he had the same option they all did.

because had he gone back on the deal I kinda Doubt Chef would have stuck him back in the cage with the others and instead likely would have just killed him in anger then and there.

so I don't think it can even be claimed that he could have gone back on the deal and still survived the movie by standing by his friends

in that moment and thus being Rescued by Bridget along with the Rest of them later on.

the problem with the movie's writing is that in order to make Creek a surprise Twist villain they unintentionally made him a bigger victim than any of the other Trolls who were captured by the Bergens.

by taking away any other choices he had in the situation that didn't Result in immediate death whereas everyone else who was captured in the film weren't put in as Hopeless a situation as he was.

its all just very iffy writing and Honestly it kinda Baffles me how the writers find villains like Barb and Crimp and Veneer to be deserving of sympathy

despite doing bad things of their own free will but hate Creek with a passion and say he deserves brutal death for giving in to very Human fear after a day from Hell with literally no other Good options.

like to anyone who Judges his actions all I have to say is what other option did he have that still would have allowed him to live in the end?

and if you can Honestly answer that without saying "" but he should have just died so the rest of the village can live ""

then I'll admit Defeat but if you are just going to say that quote above then I'll point out your literally doing the same thing your criticising him for

your Deciding other people's lives are worth more than someone else's Despite them being on equal Ground since they were all innocent people

and Deciding someone should have to die so someone else can live the problem is the fandom looks at this like its simple and black and white when it Really isn't

its a variation of the Trolley problem which is a complex question that people have thought about for years now Trolls is just a kids film at the end of the day so I don't expect it to go into this topic in Depth

but it should have been written Differently so either Creek's motives were Different or his situation wasn't so Devoid of other options for him

since literally all of his friends were given the luxury of waiting to see if they were Rescued but Creek wasn't

or it should have been changed so he got a last minute Redemption and Happy ending like maybe when Chef made that last attempt to kill Branch and Poppy During the climax

Creek finally plucks up the courage to stand up to her and Jumps out the waist bag onto her face Distracting her for long enough for the Rest of the snack pack to trip her up and send her off in the cooker like in the finished film.

and in the end Poppy and Branch and Creek share a look that means he isn't necessarily still friends with Poppy but they appreciate the situation was pretty Hopeless and he did try to Help them in the end.

but having him share a comeuppance with his captor is Honestly kinda Bizaar

Creek isn't the one to blame for the attempted Genocide Chef is mainly and also Gristle Jr

yes he was manipulated by Chef but he still had more free will in his part in the Genocide than the literal Hostage did

yet the movie lets him off the Hook in the end but sends Creek off with his captor acting more like he was her willing Henchmen than her victim.

its like if a world war 2 film Redeemed Hitler in the end and gave him a Happy ending but a prisoner in one of his camps who betrayed a Group of his own people

because they threatened to send him to the Gas chamber if he didn't is Treated like an irredeemable scumbag and is killed off.

its just insane from a writing perspective tbh.

another point is I've heard some people say he's meant to Represent Toxic positivity and frankly I don't understand that angle?

he was no more toxically posotive than the rest of the village he along with everyone else refused to believe the party could be dangerous for them

which makes him a bit ignorant but it was the environment he was Raised in he's no more or less Guilty of this Behaviour than the Rest of Pop Village

and if people are referring to his later actions then how is that toxic positivity? being scared after being held captive alone in inhumane conditions and threatened to be gruesomely murdered is toxic positivity?

I genuinely don't understand this idea?

also he's Hated on for his attitude towards Branch and yeah that is Jerky but 1. that doesn't make him an irredeemable villain Deserving of Torture and Death like a lot of fans claim

and 2. almost all of the snack pack act this way Towards Branch that isn't unique to Creek yet he's the only one Hated on for this Behaviour?

the twins literally tell Branch to his face he always ruins everything which I find to be much more insulting than what Creek said to him

Cooper literally called him a party pooper and tried to Deter Poppy from inviting him to the party which tbf Creek also Did

at best Biggie was somewhat sympathetic towards Branch but even that came across as patronising pity more than anything that wasn't Really taking his concerns seriously

so yeah the fandom making out like Creek was the sole bane of Branch's existence prior to the first movie is unfair tbh

most of the snack pack behaved this way Towards Branch because they were Raised in a toxically posotive environment and had seen Branch

be involved in no Doubt countless false alarms over the years warning them about the Bergens and he'd probably behaved bitter and antagonistic towards them in the past

like he did at the start of the first film so some of them Developed a Dislike of him which is kinda understandable in some ways.

point is this isn't unique to Creek he's no more Toxically posotive than the Rest of the village and he wasn't any worse to Branch than the others were

the only Difference is he wasn't around to Hear Branch's backstory which Gave the Gang more context on why he acted the way he did.

in short the Hate towards him is kinda Unreasonable tbh he was placed in a much more Dire situation than any other Troll in the movie in that he was much closer to death with literally no Hope of escape

not to mention the whole being stuffed in the tiny locket with no air holes or light which is literally just torture.

the whole thing that Ruins it is the writing choice to have him plucked from the cage early on and nearly eaten then and there as that puts him in a situation that no other Troll in the film was actually put in

even when Branch was nearly forced fed to Gristle at the end he still had other people around him which means he knew he could be saved and low and behold he was.

but Removing Creek from the cage and trying to eat him then and there with literally no other Hope of escape other than Doing what he did creates an unfair lose lose situation for him Really.

and sacrificing yourself for others may be noble but it is not something anyone has any Right to expect from someone else

unless they chose a job to protect the public like a cop or a firefighter which Creek wasn't he was just an ordinary civilian.

and to the people who say they Hate him for his attitude Towards Poppy when she was in the cage well I have nothing to say to that except well

it doesn't make your attitude of saying he Deserves Gruesome death any more Right

its Victim Blaming in the most covered up kid friendly form its the Trolls movie equivalent

of saying a local person Deserved to get Horribly Beat up and killed by a Group of guys simply because they acted like a bit of a smug Jerk in a pub or a nightclub.

someone's attitude does not change the circumstances of the situation a Victim can act as smug and Jerky as they like it does not change the fact that they are a Victim.

also he only acts smug in literally 2 scenes post Betrayal so the fact the fandom focuses on that

and not all of the scenes of him being portrayed as a terrified victim before Hand is kinda Blatant picking and choosing lets be Honest

its the opposite of what the fandom does with Bro zone ignoring how they actually act for most of the movie and Hyper focusing on the two scenes of them actually acting like Decent people.

anyway that concludes my lecture lol if you've made it this far here's your Reward a cute Seal meme picture 😂😂

its sooooooooooooo cute 😭😭😭😭

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @vashwood-anthology! I wanted to do a bit more of a comedic piece for Vashwood, though Trigun being trigon, angst still found its way in…This story fought me so much along the way, I wasn’t fully settled on how to end it and every time I reread the story I kept adding scenes.

Which is not a good thing with a word count. XD I’m not sure if I’m fully satisfied with it yet, but if I read it again…who knows how much more I’ll add. XD

I'm so glad I got to work with the amazing @wisedo for this piece! Their art is perfect and so comedically on point <3

…

…

…

…

Nicholas had a stalker.

Probably.

Leaning back in his plastic chair, his feet on a tiny fold-out table, Nicholas slurped loudly from his slushie as he studied his surroundings. Fortunately, the food court was packed with people, so no one was paying attention to him—

“Mom! He’s putting his feet on the table!”

“And if you act like that, Santa won’t be giving you any presents.”

—most people weren’t paying attention to him. Awkwardly, Nicholas put his feet down before anyone else wandered by.

For the most part, he was surrounded by strangers. It made sense: he was a traveller who hadn’t been in the city for more than a few days. It’d be odder if he had recognized anyone here. That was how it was in most cities he’d visited—Nicholas made his living as a travelling handy-man, an entertaining busker, an overly relaxed priest. Whatever paid the bills as he spent his days wandering from town to town.

His eyes landed on a familiar, spiky-haired blond.

Familiar. That was the problem here. While the man was scarfing down donuts like he was competing in an eating contest, not paying attention to Nicholas in the least, he was the epitome of suspicious. It was rare enough for Nicholas to meet anyone twice, let alone thrice, and this was the fifth time he’d spotted that particular hedgehog of hair.

Hence, he was ninety-percent certain he was being stalked.

This required investigation. Nicholas smirked as he noisily sucked his straw. With how sloppy the guy was, it would be easy enough to trap him.

“Dad, there’s nothing in his cup anymore!”

“Shh, honey, inflation’s hitting hard these days.”

…maybe he should find a more discrete place to capture the stalker.

-x-

Nicholas tugged his collar, trying to fan in a little air onto his neck.  Most people would question why he’d take up buskering of all things in a suit, and they would be right. It was a stupid idea. He regretted it entirely. Between the heat and how it impaired his movements, it would have been better to wear literally anything else.

Unfortunately, all he owned were suits. At least he didn’t have a single tie, or he’d really be dying.

Flipping a dagger between his fingers, Nicholas put on his widest smile and called out, “I can hit anything!” After a pause, he added. “Great with daggers and funerals!”

It was a terrible sales pitch. He couldn’t really blame people for continuing to stream past him. His last few attempts were equally pitiful and the small white paper cup in front of him was as empty as ever. All it’d take was a little wind and it’d roll down the street, along with his last two quarters.

He’d need a more innovative speech. He’d need—

The blonde stranger was here too. Nicholas narrowed his eyes. Purposely ignoring his gaze, the stranger paced back and forth further down the street as he deftly juggled five balls. Once, Nicholas had done a stint as a circus clown and anything past 4 items was harder than it looked. The dirty hat in front of stranger looked just as empty as Nicholas’ cup.

Nicholas grinned. Maybe he could get two birds with one stone.

Slowly, he sauntered over, each step deliberate and slow. The blonde tensed slightly when Nicholas stopped in front of him, unable to completely mask his reaction.

So he did know Nicholas. Good. He didn’t want to accidentally harass a stranger. Nicholas called out, trying to keep the malice out of his voice, “Looks like you’re having just as hard a time as I am.”

Fortunately, the blonde didn’t pick up on his intentions. He glanced over his shoulder. Realizing no one was behind him, he stared at Nicholas in surprise. “Me?”

“Who else?” Nicholas rolled his eyes. If anything, judging by the bullet holes and dirt riddling the bottom of the stranger’s red jacket, he probably was having a worse time. While Nicholas had been chased out of a town or two, he’d never been in that much danger.

“Oh. Right.” The blonde chuckled and smiled sheepishly. He nodded, still juggling. The five colorful balls flew through the air like parts of a rainbow. “It’s a hard street.”

“It’d be easier if we worked together,” Nicholas suggested.

The blonde’s eyes widened slightly before he took the bait. Excited, he juggled faster. “Yeah! I’ve always wanted to do paired jugg—”

Nicholas smirked wolfishly before shouting, “Anyone want to see me throw a dagger at this guy?”

“—ling  with—Wait, what?” The blonde froze and gaped at Nicholas like a fish out of water. Five balls bounced off his head like bullets. “You’re going to what?”

“It’ll be fine, I’ve done this before,” he assured his new ‘partner’. Already, a crowd had started to gather around them, mostly comprised of blood-thirsty children dragging their parents over. Even better; children were easy enough to entertain.

“It’s a challenge,” Nicholas said louder now, directed at the audience. He ignored the stalker’s pointed glare. ”I’ll put an apple on—what’s your name?”

“Vash,” Vash replied, forcing a smile when everyone stared at him.

“Vash’s head,” Nicholas continued. Now he had a name at least. “And then I’ll toss a dagger at it and try not to hit him.”

“What do you mean try!?” Vash shouted.

“It’s no big deal,” Nicholas whispered as he turned around. Digging in his knapsack, he pulled out an apple and tossed it at Vash. “Just make sure to stay still and it’ll work out.”

“You’ve done this before, right?” Vash asked, staring at the apple doubtfully.

Nicholas shrugged, unconcerned. “Once? I think.”

“Once?” Vash bit out. The audience had surrounded them at this point and there was no easy escape this time. “Wait, maybe we can find something else, less risky, like jugg—”

“People want to see knife-throwing.” Nicholas spun Vash around and shoved him forward. “Now, get a little further or people’ll think I cheated.”

It was like a scene from an old western: two men, twenty paces apart. Vash stood stock still, an apple on his head, his smile nervous as he watched Nicholas. For his part, Nicholas kept a hand on his waist, ready to draw his dagger, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the gleaming red skin of his target. Around them, a circle had formed. People murmured as they made bets on how many holes Vash would end up with.

A kid laughed. As though that was the secret signal he’d been waiting for, Nicholas quickly drew and tossed his dagger. The blade narrowly grazed Vash’s right cheek, cutting a thin red line, and to the man’s credit, he recoiled after that, the apple rolling off his head and landing on the sand with a soft thud as he clutched his cheek.

That was an act.

Nicholas had done enough scams to know when he was being played. There were many issues with Vash’s terrible acting, the biggest of which was the fact that he’d hadn’t flinched until after the dagger had missed him. Most people would have instinctively tried to dodge as soon as Nicholas had thrown the weapon.

Vash had known it wouldn’t hit him.

“That stings!” Vash yelped, gingerly petting the wound with the pads of his fingers. As he picked up the apple, he gazed teary-eyed at Nicholas. “You hit me!”

“Barely,” he replied, already twirling another dagger between his fingers as he waited for Vash to put the apple back in place. “It makes it more thrilling. The crowd gets a show.” He flicked another knife, this time grazing his ear. “So, why’re you following me?”

“I’m not!” Vash yelped as he dodged dagger number three. He jabbed at the apple that was miraculously still on his head. The crowd jeered, some of them yelling at him to just stay still and get hit. “The apple! Aim for the apple!”

“I am,” Nicholas lied, pulling out dagger number four. “And don’t lie—I’ve seen you before.”

“Really, you remember me?” Vash grinned stupidly before realizing what he’d just admitted. “Wait, I mean, I’ve seen one of your shows!  I’m a fan!”

Nicholas scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he carefully held his blade between two fingers, his hand rocking back and forth as he aimed. If it had just been one show, he wouldn’t have recognized Vash at all. “Is that all?”

“It is!”  Vash was a terrible liar. His eyes gave everything away.

Deliberately, Nicholas lowered his aim, the blade pointing at Vash’s crotch now. The crowd gasped expectantly. “You sure?”

Vash crouched and crossed his hands in front of his pants, tears forming in his eyes as he shouted, “I thought you were also going to the Octovern Busker Festival!”

Despite his fear, his voice had held steady. While it wasn’t the whole truth, it wasn’t a lie either. Nicholas sighed, relenting, and flicked his knife, sinking the blade into the apple.

-x-

The crowd had all dispersed, leaving behind a tin filled with stray coins, a nail, and two coupons. Nicholas grimaced as he shook the can. Nothing else fell out. Cheapskates. He glanced up at the very worn Vash. “So you’re lost.”

“Yes…” Vash rubbed his neck with a sheepish smile. He pulled out a crinkled poster from his pocket and handed it to Nicholas. “I’m not very good with directions.”

He sounded oddly proud of it. Nicholas rolled his eyes as he scanned the paper. He’d heard of the festival before. “And you didn’t think to ask anyone else?”

“Well…it’s embarrassing,” Vash admitted. So he knew that much at least. “I thought you’d also be going there…since, you busker.”

“And you couldn’t just ask instead of stalk?” Nicholas held out the handful of coins they’d earned. The people in this city were stingier than any other he’d been in. “I don’t even do that often—this barely paid for the apple.”

Vash gazed at the money, puzzled. “But it’s not about the money.”

Nicholas’s jaw dropped. “The hell it’s not about the money, money is—”

A kid ran between them, bumping into Nicholas. Nicholas caught a glimpse of the ragmuffin with her short, messy hair and dirt on her face as she mumbled an apology.

“Kids these days—” His hand felt light. Nicholas stared at his now-empty palm. His other hand instinctively patted his also now-empty pocket. Immediately, he jumped to his feet and swore. “Fuck.”

Slow to catch on, Vash stared at the girl as she turned a corner into an alley. “Huh?”

“She mugged me.” Nicholas sprinted forward. A suit was the worst thing to run in and not for the first time, he regretted his life choices. “GET BACK HERE!”

“But she’s so young!” Vash shouted as he chased after.

“It’s easier to slip unnoticed.” Nicholas barreled down the alley, catching a glimpse of the girl’s dirty shirt before she turned a corner. His armpits were damp, his pants complaining with each step, and he didn’t know if he could go any faster.

While he’d visited December once before, he’d never taken the side alleys before. It was like a maze of corridors back here, the streets getting narrower and grimier as the girl eluded his grasp. From the corner of his eye, he spotted several children poking their heads out of nooks and crannies, a hungry look in their faces that he had known himself long ago.

One kid stepped out of the shadows and threw a rock at him. “Leave her alone!”

Nicholas dodged. “She’s with you?”

“I think I’m even more lost,” Vash panted, almost running into the kid as he caught up. The startled kid yelped, stumbling over his feet. Vash grabbed his shoulders, steadying him. “Woah, careful there!”

“Let go of me!” The boy shouted, terrified. When Vash’s grip proved too strong to escape, he screamed, “HELP!”

The girl had almost vanished down a side street but pivoted at the sound. Fear in her eyes, she ran back. “Darian! Don’t hurt him!”

Perfect. Nicholas snatched her as she bolted past him, wrapping an arm around her waist and hoisting her up before she could escape. “Gotcha.”

She squirmed, her flailing limbs hitting his chin and sides. “Hey! Let go of me”!

“Just gimme a moment.” Nicholas wiped the sweat from his forehead and rubbed his jaw. With some training, she’d have a killer punch. The girl was like a wildcat, and he almost dropped her reflexively as she struggled in his grip. Meanwhile her accomplice had frozen stiff in front of Vash, too scared to even make a peep.

“You okay?” Vash asked, crouching in front of the kid and peering up with concern. “Did you get hurt?”

“Leave him alone!” the girl shouted again, her struggles increasing.

Two street urchins. Orphaned siblings, most likely. Nicholas had been there before, had seen it before. “Don’t bit me, kid,” he warned as he released her before she could throw another stray punch.

Scrambling to her feet, the girl ran to her brother and yanked him away from Vash. It was like looking at a cornered cat. His wallet was still tight in her grip.

Nicholas sighed. “Just try not to get caught next time.” Vash and the kids stared at him. Rolling his shoulders to get the crick out of them, he added, “The next guy won’t be as soft as me.”

“Nicholas…” Starry-eyed, Vash covered his mouth.

“I’m not giving this back,” the girl hissed.

“Don’t,” Nicholas agreed. “You need it more.”

The siblings looked at each other, communicating silently, before giving him one last suspicious squint. Then they bolted, shoving past Vash and disappearing into the slums. Nicholas watched them before feeling a shiver run up his back. Turning around, he found Vash still giving him that awestruck stare.

“You’re a lot kinder than you act.” Vash smiled.

It was a nice smile. Nicholas shrugged. “I’ve been there before.”

“Oh.” For some unfathomable reason, Vash’s smile flickered, misery clouding his eyes.

He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like it. “I’m better now,” Nicholas clarified. “And they can eat for a few days with what I had if they’re careful.” He turned his empty pockets inside out. “More than I can say for me. I need a drink.”

-x-

A drink did not solve his problems. In fact, they just made them worse—even if he hadn’t lost his wallet, the tab he’d opened was bigger than the amount he’d lost. For a twig of a man, Vash drank like a bottomless pit. No one would call Nicholas a lightweight, but even he was starting to feel it.

Maybe they could wash dishes here for the next three months to pay it off. There’s no way Vash was carrying enough to cover both of them.

Nicholas ran his finger over the rim of his mug. He shot Vash a disbelieving look. “How did you get nearly get mugged three times on the way here.”

“Oh, I…” Vash chuckled as he took a sip, his ears turning a fetching shade of red. “It’s a gift.”

“A curse,” Nicholas corrected. He elbowed Vash. First there was the little old lady crossing the street, then there was the kid with a cat stuck in a tree—Nicholas was certain that if they ran across a mother with a stroller, the baby would try to rob Vash next. “And that wasn’t a compliment. Do you really have to help everyone you meet?”

“Whyyyy not?” Vash slurred, putting down his now empty glass.

“Another one!” Nicholas ordered loudly, as though they weren’t at the bar with the bartender right across from them.

As though the bartender hadn’t been shooting them increasingly irate glares as the night wore on. “I should just cut you off,” she said.

Probably, but it was a matter of pride that Nicholas didn’t finish before Vash. “Another one!” he repeated, louder.

“Me too,” Vash cheered. He seemed drunk, but it was an act. It had to be. His hands were too steady to be anything but sober.

Disgruntled, the bartender reluctantly grabbed two more glasses. “Fine, but last one. Then you’re out.”

It reminded Nicholas of a song. “You don’t have to go home—”

“—but you can’t stay here,” Vash finished.

They stared at each other before bursting into laughter. Nicholas wiped the tears from his eyes. “You’re not half bad, for a stalker.”

“You’re amazing.” Vash clinked his glass against Nicholas’s.

Maybe he hadn’t been joking when he’d said he was a fan. And he certainly wasn’t dangerous in the least—no one could get attacked that many times without losing their temper, yet Vash had shrugged off everything that had happened him the past few hours. Whatever Vash was hiding, it couldn’t be anything bad.

“You’re exaggerating,” Nicholas muttered, downing his drink.

‘I’m not,” Vash replied quietly, oddly somber, oddly serious.

Before he could ask, the bartender slid a check between them. She tapped on the bill with a chewed-up fingernail. “Let’s settle up.”

Nicholas stared at the big red numbers. That felt like one too many 0s. Could he argue that? He had to argue that.

Before he could say anything, Vash reached for the bill, a smile on his face. “I’ve got this.”

It was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion. Vash’s hand reached into his pockets, his fingers fumbling in the space. He paled as he checked his other pocket, then his shoes, then the small sack by his feet. “It’s gone.”

Nicholas had a sinking feeling that the little boy from earlier hadn’t been as shell-shocked as he had acted. “What is?”

“My wallet…” Vash laughed awkwardly. “You think those kids took it? Guess they picked a better target, just like you asked.”

The bartender leaned forward, a dark glint in her eyes. Despite her short stature, her muscular arms screamed danger. “So you can’t pay?”

-x-

Nicholas had been poor before, had been penniless for years, but somehow he’d never felt as broke as he did right now, sitting on a bench in the middle of a park. The bartender had practically turned them into indentured labour for the next few weeks. His hotel had kicked him out. All he had was his knapsack now.

“It’ll be warm tonight,” Vash hummed, rocking back and forth as he leaned back and stared up at the stars. “Clear skies too.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” Nicholas watched him from the corner of his eye. All he had was a knapsack and this stranger who refused to leave. His head was killing him. The hangover was going to be even worse tomorrow. And he didn’t want to imagine how sore his body would be come morning.

He hated sleeping on benches.

 “Better than a rainy, cold night,” Vash pointed out, sounding like he was speaking from experience.

He was right, though Nicholas didn’t want to admit it. “Marginally.”

Vash chuckled, shoulder bumping him. “You just want to complain.”

He was right about that too. Nicholas side-eyed him; in the short time he’d known Vash, he hadn’t seen a more cheerful man. “You’re too up-beat about this. You’re drunk.”

“Am not,” Vash retorted, kicking his feet. “And there’s nothing wrong with being happy.”

Nicholas should be angrier about this. He’d drank more than he realized too. “Sounds drunk to me.”

Vash shrugged, looking up at the night sky once more. “The stars are nice tonight.”

Nicholas peeked up. With the clouds hiding the moon, it was easier to see the billions of lights twinkling in the dark sky. “I guess.”

They sat there quietly before Vash muttered, “Sorry.”

That caught him off guard. Nicholas cocked his head. “Huh?”

“I…I messed things up.” Vash mumbled, slumping forward on his bag-turned-pillow. His expression was serious. “You should be sleeping in the hotel.”

“You are drunk.” When Vash didn’t say anything, Nicholas bit his cheek. Perhaps Vash had been too happy earlier, but now that he was somber, it bothered Nicholas more than he cared to admit. “It’s fine. It’s not like you’re the only one who was mugged.”

“But—”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” Nicholas propped his chin on his hand, studying Vash’s profile. Nothing about him felt like any of the other travellers Nicholas had met. “I’ve been in worse messes; it comes with the territory. Is this your first time?”

There was a long pause and Vash nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t travelled this far alone before.”

That didn’t surprise him. “Any special reason?”

A longer pause. “…I’m paying back a debt.”

“Debt?” Scrounging up spare change was perhaps the worst way to pay back anything. “And you’re doing this?”

The longest pause yet. Just when Nicholas was about to ask him again, Vash snored.

-x-

Nicholas had a head-splitting headache. His heart was beating a mile a minute and there was a strange queasy feeling in his stomach. Even his stiff back and sore neck couldn’t make his hangover go away and he’d run out of cigarettes. Nicholas rolled his shoulders, trying to get the crick out as he roamed the city.

He needed money.

Actually…Nicholas glanced at the blonde man walking beside him, looking as scruffy as he felt. The day-old stubble gave him a roguish appearance and he didn’t want to know how they both smelled.

They needed money.

Nicholas stuffed a hand in his pocket and his fingers grazed a crumpled piece of paper. Pulling it out, he unfurled it to reveal the poster Vash had given him earlier. Buskerfest. There was no better way to make money. And with a month left to go, there was plenty of time to find a way to get there.

Tapping on the paper, he turned to Vash. “Were you serious about this?”

“Uhh….” Vash stared at the paper owlishly before registering the question. “Yes?”

 “Why are you saying it like a question?” Nicholas shot him a pointed look.

Vash rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “I mean, yes.”

It still sounded like a lie but he’d take it.  “Fine,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

Vash lit up, his smile reaching his eyes. He leaned forward, clasping Nicholas’s hands tightly. “Really?”

Vash was far more excited than Nicholas had expected. He winced as his head throbbed, the lingering headache reminding him of just how much of a mess they got into last night. If he never drank again, it would be too soon. “Don’t think we have much of a choice here or we’re going to owe that bar for the rest of our lives.”

-x-

When they’d agreed to work for the bartender’s sister’s niece’s dog’s father-in-law’s burger joint as waiters, Nicholas knew what to expect. Hectic rush hours, annoying guests, a manager who was perhaps expecting them to dine and dash again.

His main worry now, however, was that they might end up owing more.

Or rather, that Vash would make them owe more.

“Do you really have to carry the plates like that?” Nicholas asked, a headache forming at the memory of the past few hours. It hadn’t been his first time as a waiter; he’d done more than his fair share to earn train tickets and their ilk.

However, it had been his first time seeing someone carry six plates and two cups. Vash only had two arms (Nicholas had checked. Twice) and yet he had insisted on carrying everything in one go. Precariously stacking the dishes in ways that resembled a wobbly tower, Vash had dashed from table to table, narrowly missing dropping a meal each time.

Maybe it had been a ploy to stay in this town for the rest of their lives. After all, they couldn’t leave if their debt eclipsed the moon.

“It’s quicker that way,” Vash replied as he eyed the empty pizza boxes around them with pursed lips. “Did you order pizza again?”

“There’s nothing else cheap to eat.” Nicholas shrugged as he plopped onto the singular clear spot on the couch. Between the odd jobs and the buskering, they’d managed to book a motel for the week. Shabby as it might be, it still had four walls and a roof and that was more than they could hope (afford) at the moment.

He gave a side-long glance at his partner. Despite his complaints, Vash hadn’t dropped anything. “I’m amazed you didn’t break anything.” Maybe they could sell it as a miracle and rack up the big donation bucks instead.

Vash grinned as he set down the empty pizza box. “It’s a gift!”

“Again, not a compliment.” Nicholas rubbed his forehead. The more time he spent worry about this, the less time he had to work on his own tasks. And in case Vash lost his ‘gift’, he’d need the money to repay every dish. “Whatever. You still got your money?”

“Yep!” Vash patted his pocket, checking it once more. “I can’t believe that old man’s cat actually tried to fish it out of my pocket.”

“I think I’ve seen a whole new world to scamming because of you.” And it was true, each hour they encountered a new trick. It was impressive, if tragic. Vash was like a magnet for trouble.

“Sorry.” Vash sat down beside Nicholas, slumping against the side of the couch as he sighed. “I’m just giving you more trouble.”

“You are,” Nicholas agreed whole-heartedly. “Work on it.”

Another sigh. Vash slumped even more. “Sorry.” Before Nicholas could say anything, he sprang up once more, like a dandelion after being stepped on. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“You really don’t let anything get you down, do you?” Nicholas shook his head, smiling wryly. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or annoyed.”

Vash stared at him with a growing grin. “You’re impressed?”

Annoyed. Annoyed was clearly the right answer. “You really only hear what you want to.”

-x-

Nicholas sighed as he lit the last of his cigarettes. Hopefully he’d be able to get some after today’s work. “C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

Vash buttoned up his jacket as he trailed after him. “You should get breakfast.”

Nicholas gestured at the stacks of pizza boxes in the room—the joint next door wasn’t just cheap, it stayed open late, and he’d never realized how hard it was to find a place like that before now. “There’s cold pizza if you’re hungry.”

“We had that yesterday.” Vash gave him a pitying look. “And the day before that. And the day before that.”

Nicholas bristled. “Hey, don’t make me out to be some sort of pizza addict.”

“You deserve so much better.” Vash sighed. Immediately, without even a second of hesitation, he whipped a donut out. “Here, have a donut!”

Nicholas had seen through plenty of magic tricks during his travels, but he had no idea where the sugary confection came from. A pocket? His sleeves? Another dimension? He stared at it, then at Vash. “How’s that better than pizza?”

Immediately, he regretted the question. Glowing, Vash grasped his chest with his free hand. “Taste. Size. Perception.”

And then he waxed poetic about the donuts until their shift at the restaurant that night.

-x-

They’d been living together for over a week, in debt for slightly longer, and Nicholas didn’t even want to guess how long he’d been stalked. Yet, despite it all, he could count on one hand just how much he knew about his chaotic roommate. It wasn’t like him, to not ask a question for this long.

It was strange.

And dangerous. As they chewed donuts (Vash had taken to alternating their meals between pizza and donuts, despite Nicholas’s protests) on the ratty couch, Nicholas said, “You suck at buskering.”

“Ouch.” Vash glared at him. “I’m not that bad.”

“You can’t survive on the streets. You are lucky the customers like you at the restaurant,” Nicholas continued, as though he didn’t hear him. He licked the jelly on his thumb as he studied the blonde man. “So, why are you doing this?”

“That…” For the first time since he’d known him, Vash looked uncomfortable at the question. He nibbled his donut, as though he’d find an answer in the powdered treat. After a few minutes, when it was clear that Nicholas wouldn’t let it go, he mumbled, “Well, I…”

Nicholas craned his neck, unable to catch his mumbled words. “You what?”

“I had…a job.” Vash stared at his donut, refusing to meet Nicholas’s eyes. “I fucked up.”

Ah, a firing. He’d met more than one vagabond with the same story. It wasn’t a surprise it was hard for the blonde to talk about it. Nicholas shrugged. “I’m not surprised.”

“I fucked up, badly,” Vash repeated, his hands trembling. “I keep trying to fix it and I can’t.”

Keep. Present tense. Perhaps less a firing and more a suspension? Yet again, it was unsettling to see Vash like this, looking small, looking pathetic. “But you’ll keep trying.”

“I have to,” Vash whispered, turning to stare him in the eye. “I have to.”

The intensity of his gaze took Nicholas’s breath away, though he couldn’t understand it. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. “You’ll do better tomorrow,” he said, echoing Vash’s words from days prior.

Vash froze before breaking into a big smile. “Exactly. What about you?”

“Nothing that…dramatic,” Nicholas said with a shrug. “After I left the orphanage, I didn’t have anything I really wanted to do or anything tethering me anywhere so…why not? Travelling’s interesting.” He looked up to find Vash staring at him with watery eyes. Nicholas scowled. “Don’t give me that look, I’m fine.”

“But—”

Nicholas flicked his forehead. “I get to see new things and meet new people. There’s nothing to complain about."

“Still…it sounds lonely.” Vash dropped his donut and leaned forward on the couch. His sticky hand covered Nicholas’s. “What about friends?”

He was too close. Nicholas pulled back but Vash’s hand held firm, keeping him anchored there. “I’ve got a few in each town.”

Vash pressed, “Anyone you’re close to? Anyone you miss?”

 “Not really.” Nicholas looked away. “It’s enough to visit every now and then.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Like I said, I’m fine.”

Vash bit his lip thoughtfully before reaching up and patting Nicholas’s head. “You had it tough.”

It was oddly comforting. He wanted none of it. Nicholas swatted Vash away and pulled back. “That’s why I don’t get pickpocketed like you.”

“Hey!”

-x-

There were few ways to get to Octervan, and all of them involved passage on a ship. And boarding a ship required money; tickets were expensive even for the lowest class.

They needed two tickets.

It took a lot of scrimping, but Nicholas smirked as they stood in line to board the ship. “That was close; almost thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“I knew we would,” Vash replied with completely unfounded confidence, his hands on his hip as he craned his neck to stare up at the towering ship.

“We just need to be back in a week.” Nicholas glanced over his shoulder, half-fearful that the bar had sent goons after them. Technically speaking, they weren’t supposed to leave the city, but Nicholas had never been one to let technicalities stop him. “Or else we just never come back here.”

“That might be easier,” Vash admitted.

“It’d be far easier,” Nicholas agreed. “Should we?”

They turned, staring at each other, before bursting into laughter. Vash wiped the tears from his eyes as they joined the boarding cue. “You really think she’d let us go like that?”

“I think she has military connections.” Nicholas shivered, remembering the glint in the bartender’s eyes, the absolute certainty she had that they’d be paying. “Don’t even want to imagine who she’d send after us.”

“You don’t think she’d send someone now?” Vash whispered, squinting suspiciously at everyone passing by.

“No? I hope not. You can’t get money off a dead guy.” Nicholas nudged Vash as they reached the front of the line. He pulled out his id. “Get the tickets ready.”

“What if she makes us close to dead?” Vash reached into his pockets.

“We still won’t be able to pay.” Nicholas smiled winningly at the woman holding a clipboard in front of them. She flushed as she took his id.

“And the tickets?” she asked, handing it back.

“Vash—” Nicholas cut himself off.

Panicked, Vash patted all of his pockets—once, twice, thrice. He took off a boot, turning it upside down and shaking it. A feather fell out. Quickly, he took off his pack and knelt, opening every zipper and searching. “Just…It’s here, just a second. I know it’s here.”

Had he been pickpocketed? Again? Nicholas had a sinking feeling that the answer to that was a resounding yes.

“Are you serious?” he groaned.

“I’ll find it,” Vash replied desperately, emptying out his bag.

Behind them, the line murmured impatiently. The crew member attending them frowned, suspicious. There wasn’t much time to salvage this, if he even could. Forcing his nicest smile, Nicholas leaned forward and purred, “I don’t suppose you’re hiring?”

-x-

Nicholas had always had terrible luck, but he’d more than learned how to compensate for that with charm. While the woman hadn’t looked amused, he and Vash had gotten hired and that more than counted as a win in his books.

The work they had to do…not so much. Nicholas grunted as he lifted yet another heavy crate—whatever the first class passengers were packing, they definitely didn’t need. Instead of crew, the ship needed a herd of elephants to move all of this.

“You’ve got this,” Vash encouraged, swaying back and forth as he carried his crate. Despite his big show of effort, he wasn’t breathless in the least.

It was like drinking all over again. The bastard kept restraining himself. There were few things that Nicholas hated more than being pitied. Unfortunately, he was too tired to bring it up.

“This is your fault,” Nicholas jabbed, supressing a groan as he forced his feet to waddle forward a few more steps. He’d always considering himself strong until now. Yet, the other crewmates didn’t look half as tired as he did—was he getting sick? He couldn’t be the only one struggling here.

“See you at dinner?” a woman asked as she passed by with an empty trolley.

“Of course he will be!” a man said, clapping Vash on the back. “He promised me a drink.”

“I said I’m broke,” Vash whined.  “Why do you think I’m here in the first place?”

“What’s a little more debt?” the man smirked.

Despite Vash’s pout, he happily agreed when they told him to meet them in the mess in two hours. The pair gave Nicholas a short nod before ambling on. While Nicholas knew how to play up a crowd, Vash took it to a whole new level.

“When did you get so chummy?”  he asked.

“Huh?” Vash cocked his head, like a dog trying to find a scent, before giving up and shrugging. “I dunno, but you should join us.”

“I have to. Can’t let you get us into even more debt.” Nicholas shifted the crate in his hands, his arms burning from the strain.

“I don’t eat that much,” Vash protested.

“We have two very different concepts of much,” Nicholas grunted. Two more people waved to Vash as they walked by. It was just like when they were waiters all over again. “You’re good at making friends.”

“It’s not that hard.” Vash grinned, his ears red. “If you know how to smile.”

“…are you trying to pick a fight?” Nicholas glared at him. Or at the crate, to be precise—these things were way too big. While his hands were by no means delicate and soft, his roughened skin rubbed against the coarse wood.

There was a pregnant pause before Vash jested, “So you don’t know how to smile?”

“Just wait till we put these down,” he growled.

Vash chuckled and picked up the pace. So he had been faking his exhaustion, the bastard. Nicholas clicked his teeth as he glared. What else had he been hiding? And how long would it take to find out? Maybe Nicholas was more tired than he’d realized, because for some reason, he was thinking of the future. Beyond all of this. Despite all of the hard work, despite the pickpocketing and the endless money loss, this hadn’t been his worst trip.

It had been kinda fun, even.

Maybe, even after the trip, after the debt, they could keep travelling together. Like this. Chaotic and exhausting yet extremely—

Nicholas lightly bumped his head against the crate. What was he thinking?

-x-

Why had he been thinking of the future? The present was what mattered and in the present, his bad luck reared again. Half-way through the journey their ship had come under the attack of pirates. Ducking behind several crates in the hold with Vash, Nicholas groaned. “Seriously?”

Vash peeked up. A bullet whizzed by and he immediately flatted himself back down again as wisps of blonde hair fell. “I thought pirates were extinct?”

“Tell that to them.” Nicholas pressed a hand to his forehead. It might have been better if he’d just had a gun or a weapon to defend himself with. Instead, all he could do was cower and hope that they’d make it out of here in one piece.

“Think it’d work?” Vash rubbed his chin, seriously considering the suggestion.

“No!” Nicholas hissed. He scanned their surroundings. There was a door just ahead of them, leading up to the crew’s quarters. With all of the loot scattered about, the pirates wouldn’t bother following them there.

The only problem was that there was no cover between here and the door.

Following his gaze, Vash caught on. “On the count of three?”

Bullets flew overhead as some of the more…zealous crew members fought with the pirates. No one was paying them enough to protect the cargo. Nicholas shook his head. “We won’t make it.”

“Trust me.” Vash grinned, giving an encouraging thumbs up.

Nicholas gave him a flat stare. “You lost our tickets. And your wallet. And—”

“That was that, this is this,” Vash said sagely. It was the least reassuring thing Nicholas had ever heard.

He ran a hand through his hair, his nails scraping his scalp. It wasn’t like they had any other choice. With a groan, he agreed. “On three.”

“One.”

Nicholas shifted into a crouch, ready to spring forward.

“Two.”

Vash shuffled a little closer and adjusted his glasses.

“Three.”

Bullets rained down as they ran forward. Had someone noticed them? He wasn’t sure, the shots seemed to come from everywhere. Luckily, nothing hit them as they hurled themselves at the door. Vash reached first, yanking the metal door open like it was made of paper.

“Hurry!”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Nicholas shouted. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a pirate pop out from behind a crate, his gun aimed at Vash. He’d never considered himself a hero, but his legs moved before he could think and he shoved Vash through the door as a bullet tore through his chest.

Vash slammed onto the metal floor with a hard thud. Immediately, he pushed himself up. “Nicholas!”

“Fuck.” Dazed, Nicholas touched his chest. His fingers came away, blood red.

He was bleeding.

“Shit!” Vash stumbled as he turned around, dragging Nicholas though the door. His hands fumbled with buttons on Nicholas’s jacket.

“This isn’t good,” Nicholas groaned. His chest burned. Black encroached his sight. Was he dying? It felt like he was dying.

“No, no, no, this isn’t supposed to happen,” Vash mumbled, distraught. “I’m supposed to protect you. You’re not supposed to die, not like this. Shit, why’d you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Nicholas muttered honestly. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. We…we still have…” He grunted as blinding pain tore through him. “We…”

Vash’s face twisted. “You can’t die.” He tossed off his glasses and slicked back his hair. His skin started to glow.

Maybe he really was dying, because Nicholas could swear he saw white wings sprout from Vash’s back.

“You won’t die.”

-x-

“Keep your human safe.”

This was the first and only rule a guardian angel had. Keep your human safe. Happy, if possible. But safe, above else.

It was something that Vash repeated to himself as he sat cross-legged in front of a pool of water, focusing intently on the still surface. Images flickered across it, scenes depicting a six-year-old boy meeting with his friends, playing pranks on his sister, getting scolded by his parents.

Nicholas Wolfwood was a mischievous boy, but a well-meaning one. Vash had heard about his type before. With age, he’d soften his tricks, maybe even become a charismatic leader. Probably. There was the possibility of Nicholas going down the wrong path entirely and becoming a roguish villain, but Vash refused to let that happen.

The scene in the water changed yet again, showing Nicholas leaning against a window, his hands gripping the windowsill as he searched through the night sky. Disappointed, he sighed. “I wish it’d snow.”

It was a small, simple desire. Vash could grant it in a heartbeat without impacting the greater scope of things. Perhaps Nicholas would look back at this moment as what led him to staying on the right path.

“As you wish.” He smiled.

-x-

The snow became a blizzard, burying the village for three days.

-x-

A wish for better grades led to an entire class failing. An ask to win the lottery led to a broken leg and settlement claims. Even wanting a book caused a fire at the library.

Vash clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm as he stared into the pool. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. His first assignment and he’d somehow messed up. Every. Single. Time. He hadn’t even succeeded at the basic keep your human safe rule.

No, he’d done the very opposite of that, especially now. Vash bit his cheek as he watched the newly-orphaned Nicholas wipe his eyes in front of a gravestone, his tiny shoulders trembling, an older man kneeling beside him and offering words of comfort.

The mangled wishes hadn’t directly caused this, but Vash couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was still responsible. Had he overcompensated again? Was this a side effect, a balancing of fate, where one fortune caused a misfortune? He couldn’t verify it either way and somehow that was worse, the not knowing, the uncertainty, the niggling feeling that he’d scarred Nicholas in irreparable ways.

This wasn’t right. None of this was supposed to be happening.

Nicholas shook off the older man and ran off, bawling as he cried for his parents.

Vash reached out. His fingers brushed the pool and the water rippled, disrupting the image. From here, he couldn’t even comfort Nicholas.

From here.

Vash stood up. He could still fix this. He could fix everything.

-x-

Going to Earth had solved nothing. Close up, it should have been easier to see the impact of his wishes, to make sure he used his powers in moderation, yet…the string of bad luck continued. Even worse, Nicholas had started living like a nomad, wandering from city to city, tied down by neither friends nor family.

The glittering promise of childhood remained unfulfilled—no degrees, no career jobs, not even long-lasting relationships.

And now, here they were: Nicholas on a hospital bed, a labyrinth of tubes hiding his pale body, a monitor beeping as it tried to keep him alive.

Sitting next to the bed, Vash grabbed Nicholas’s hand. It was clammy. Nothing at all like the warm man with a sharp mind and sharper tongue. Clasping his hand, he pressed it to his forehead.

As bad as everything had been leading up to this, this was the worst possible outcome. Nicholas was dying. Slowly, but surely.

You’ll do better tomorrow, right?

He couldn’t let that happen.

He refused to let that happen.

-x-

“You said you owed a debt, right?” Nicholas had said the first night on the ship, sleeping on the bunk above Vash. Not that it would have changed things if he’d been on the same level; in the dark, it was impossible to see anything. Their tiny, shared cabin afforded a single, tiny oval-shaped window. The moon was too weak to illuminate the sea outside, let alone the room inside.

“Yeah.” Vash’s mouth went dry. To you, he couldn’t say. Instinctively, he knew that if he told the truth, everything here, everything that was and wasn’t between them would collapse. And while once he might have been fine watching from afar, now…

After talking to Nicholas up close, after laughing and working with him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to the shadows. He wasn’t sure if he could.

But fortunately, Nicholas didn’t ask for the details of the debt. “Knowing you, it’s impossibly large.”

A life-debt, so to speak. Vash’s shoulders slumped. “You could say that.”

“Knowing you, it’s not entirely your fault either,” Nicholas continued.

If only that were the truth. “No, it’s mine.”

A sock landed on Vash’s face and Nicholas grumbled, “I was trying to be nice. Anyways, need some help paying it back?”

That caught Vash off-guard. He jerked his head up, but the metal frame and mattress between them was impenetrable to human sight. Was Nicholas joking? He sounded serious. “After all the money you owe?”

“We owe and yeah.” Vash could picture Nicholas shrugging. “Why not?”

Vash bit his cheek, scrutinizing the dark bed frame above him seriously. “Are you sick?”

Another sock dropped on his face. “You want to do this alone?”

No. “I should,” Vash whispered. It was easier to admit this, in the dark, with no one to see, to judge. He did not like being alone.

No, more than that, he just didn’t want to leave Nicholas.

“Should is not want.” Nicholas retorted. “Just…think about it.” There was a long silence before he added, “And it probably isn’t entirely your fault.”

Vash covered his face. His victim shouldn’t be comforting him. “You said that already.”

“I know. And I’ll say it again if I have to.”

-x-

“It was my fault,” Vash said now, in the hospital. It was impossible to deny it. “I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes, reaching deep into himself. There was still one last trick to try: if he shared his essence, if he poured his powers into Nicholas, then maybe, just maybe, he’d at least not have failed him.

-x-

Nicholas stared at his hands, then at Vash. His impassive expression chilled Vash to the bone; there was nothing warm in the way he studied Vash. It was like he was looking at a stranger, rather than a friend. Then again, after all that had happened, perhaps Vash should just be happy that he wasn’t glaring at him with hate.

Vash wrung his hands as he stood by the bed awkwardly and waited for Nicholas to say something. Anything. The silence was unbearable.

“Guardian angel?” Nicholas repeated.

“Yes.”

“Like what you hear about in stories,” Nicholas pressed.

Vash nodded.

Covering an eye with one hand, Nicholas squinted at him. “That explains the halo.”

Was that a joke? There were traces of fatigue in Nicholas’s voice; maybe he was still groggy from the pain-killers. Vash bit his lip. “I—I failed. I’m sorry.”

Nicholas shifted his hand to the other eye. “Yeah, never heard of a guardian angel getting protected. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Vash flinched and hung his head, unable to defend himself. It was true, it was all true. “ You shouldn’t have gotten shot.”

“Look, I didn’t…” Nicholas sighed, his hands on his lap. “It’s not like I wanted to get hurt.”

“I would have been fine,” Vash rambled on. “You should have protected yourself.” He stopped himself—this wasn’t what he’d come here for. “…why did you do that?”

Surprised, Nicholas stared at Vash. His jaw tensed before he shook his head. “I…I don’t know. It’s not like I knew you were,” he gestured at Vash, “and I…I just moved.” His hands clenched the bedsheet. “I saw the bullet and I…just moved.”

“You…” Vash locked eyes with Nicholas and swallowed as an unfathomable expression crossed his face. What did moved mean? What did that expression mean?

What did he want it to mean?

Nicholas smiled lopsidedly. “Guess I wasn’t ready for this journey to end just yet.”

Vash didn’t know what to say to that. Unable to take it anymore, he broke his gaze and turned to the window. Despite himself, he whispered, “…me neither.”

“It doesn’t have to. We can—”

He didn’t want to look at Nicholas, didn’t want to know what expression he made. The raw hope in his voice was painful enough as it was.

“Next time, it could be worse,” Vash interrupted. He was a failure of a guardian angel, unable to guarantee Nicholas’s protection in any way. Not from pickpockets, not from debt, and now not even from bullets. Maybe he shouldn’t have been assigned to him.

Maybe he should never have signed up for this in the first place.

But it wasn’t too late to fix this. If he went back, got someone else assigned, then maybe, just maybe, the rest of Nicholas’s life could be saved. “I should go.”

“Go?” Perplexed, Nicholas shifted on the bed, trying to get out. “Go where—wait, where are you going?”

Vash ignored him, making a beeline to the door. His hand rested on the doorknob. “Sorry for everything.”

“I said, wait you fuc—” Nicholas yelped as he fell out of bed.

“Nicholas?” Vash turned around and something jerked him back, an invisible chain yanking him back and away from the door. He tumbled, falling hard on the floor. For a moment, he lay there, dazed, staring at Nicholas as he lay on the ground nearby.

They stared at each other.

Nicholas croaked, “That hurt.”

Vash patted his neck. There was nothing there. Yet, he could still feel the sensation of the chain, the tightness of a collar. Like—realization dawned and Vash swallowed hard as he stared at the space between him and Nicholas. It couldn’t, it shouldn’t—there was a thin, silverly thread of light connecting them.

A chain, of sorts.

“Shit.”

Nicholas snorted. “That’s not a very angel-like thing to say.”

Vash wasn’t listening. He tugged on the end of the chain connected to his chest but it refused to budge. With a groan, he pressed his face flat on the floor. “I fucked up.”

“Even less angel-like.” Nicholas pulled himself up to a seated position. Wiggling his toes and fingers, he shrugged. “Doesn’t look like we’re in danger and aside from a few bruises, I’m feeling pretty good right now. Everything seems accounted for.” A thought struck him and he tugged the waistband of the pants the hospital had provided and peeked inside. “Yep, all accounted for.”

“It’s…” Vash lifted his head, looking balefully at Nicholas. “I tied us together.”

“Buy a man a meal first,” Nicholas quipped. When Vash didn’t smile, he stilled. “What does tied mean?”

“Our souls are connected now,” Vash mumbled, wincing with each word. He couldn’t even rescue someone properly. “I’m…not sure exactly what this will do. I’ve heard rumours. It might make you live longer. It might change you.” He tugged on the chain. “But we can’t go too far from each other.”

“Oh. Literally tied.” Nicholas’s expression didn’t change as he stroked his chin, staring at the door, contemplating the situation. Was he disappointed? Angry? Vash could only hope it wasn’t hate.

Vash winced. Just how many times could a person screw up? “I…I’m sorry.”

“The door isn’t that far.” Nicholas struggled to get up, grunting from the exertion.

When he started to fall, Vash lunged forward, catching him. “Careful!”

“Got you.” Nicholas smirked as he clutched Vash. Despite his loose grip, Vash was stuck, feeling more tied than he had by the chain. “Thanks.”

 “I, I didn’t do anything worth thanking,” Vash mumbled stiffly. This was what he was supposed to be doing all along in the first place.

Nicholas shrugged and Vash could feel it—every gesture, every breath, every heart beat. Every sign that said I’m alive. “Still. You saved me.”

He relaxed, allowing himself to relax in the cage of Nicholas’s embrace. Burying his head in the crook of Nicholas’s neck, Vash mumbled, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“That’s the thing about travelling. Nothing ever goes to plan.” Nicholas half-laughed, half-wheezed. “It’s fine. I wanted to travel with you a little longer anyways.”

“It won’t be a little,” Vash warned.

“Even better.” Nicholas pulled back till their eyes met. “I thought I preferred going solo but that’s not the case anymore.”

And he shouldn’t just accept this, shouldn’t just melt into Nicholas’s embrace like this, but Vash had never been good at doing what he should do in the first place. “Nicholas…”

“And…” Nicholas’s smirk turned dark, his grip tightening. “When you tried to leave, you almost saddled me with all of the debt.”

Vash froze. “I…”

“Don’t worry. I know how you can make it up to me.”

Maybe he should try the door again. The chain had to be longer than he realized. It had to be.

[fang-and-feather]

Power Trade

Ikemen Vampire - Napoleon x Female Reader

I didn't plan to write more than one fic for the same character for this, but I found this the perfect opportunity to finally finish this fic that I started on February last year and already went through so many drafts, the last one fitting this event so well it was hard to pass the chance.

Written for the Sexy Ikemen Summer event by @xxsycamore (not written as a birthday fic, but since I finished it today, Happy birthday @kissmetwicekissmedeadly), Location: Your rich friend’s summer villa

Words: 2,361

Summary: You still found it hard to believe sebastian's family owned a place like that, but you and Napoleon would definitelly enjoy his early birthday gift to the best of your abilities. And what was a better way to start than going for the role reversal you've been planning for a while?

Tags: Fingering, Pegging, Teasing, Mordern Setting

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

You still found it hard to believe Sebastian's family owned a place like this. But this level of privacy was a blessing.

You had barely walked out of the bath, only wrapped in a towel, when Napoleon snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You let out a squeal in surprise that made him laugh.

“Do you always let people sneak up on you like that, Nunuche?” He asked, nuzzling into your neck, his laughter vibrating through your skin.

Napoleon had left the bath earlier himself to take a call, and now that you were out of there yourself, he seemed eager to resume what you had started in the bath.

“It’s not like there is anyone else here.”

Napoleon hummed in approval, still nuzzling into you, pulling you tighter against his body with one arm, the other hand sneaking under your towel, although only holding you and softly caressing your hip, despite you feeling how excited he was to go further.

You couldn’t believe the two of you had a whole villa all for yourselves for a few days. A gift from Sebastian for Napoleon’s approaching birthday.

The freedom to have moments like this whenever you could was a wonderful change. Your apartment’s new neighbors had been quite annoying recently. Maybe, when you went back, it was time you started thinking about having a house of your own.

“I like this new shampoo, but I always miss your natural scent after a bath.” Napoleon whispered, taking a deep breath before kissing your neck.

“Will it be a problem?”

“If you’re up to it, no.”

You squirmed and Napoleon released his hold from you only enough for you to turn around, none of you making any effort to keep the towel covering your body in place. He wasn’t wearing more than his underwear, either.

“Would the call we received be a problem?” You asked, giving him your best seductive smile.

“No.” Napoleon scooped you up, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. “And with the way you looked all day? Only an actual emergency could stop us now.”

The two of you had spent most of the day around the poll, which meant you also had spent it in a bikini. You were surprised Napoleon had waited until you were in the bath.

He carried you to the living room, still kissing you, a hand on your ass, the other on your back, not only supporting you but caressing and groping what he could reach.

You had other plans for the night before this, but you wouldn’t mind a change of plans. You welcomed his hungry kisses and impatient touch, returning it with equal passion, tightening the hold of your hands on his neck and hair and of your legs around his waist, feeling the excitement of both your bodies.

You let your body lightly rub against his, earning a muffled groan that sounded almost primal.

Napoleon sat slideways on the sofa, with you on his lap, two fingers already teasing your wet entrance, while his mouth moved to your neck. You moved your head to give him better access, and humped against his exploring hand, brushing the bulge in his underwear in the process.

Napoleon leaned back on the sofa, pulling you on top of him, and with another lustful groan, he sank his fangs into your neck, at the same time that he inserted a couple of fingers inside you. You moaned at the overwhelming pleasure coursing from the spot of the bite and through the rest of your body, riding his fingers, chasing the peak of that pleasure as he hungrily sucked your blood.

The sounds that escaped you were just as raw and passionate as you fucked yourself on his hand, sounds that gave place to a frustrated groan as he pulled away.

You leaned forward, pushing him the rest of the way down, trying to grind against him, but the hand that had been supporting you moved to your waist to hold you down. As Napoleon chuckled.

“Sorry, chérie. I intend to finish what I started. Let me just…”

Effortlessly, he moved the two of you to your previous position, then nudged you to sit back, and you watched as he licked his fingers clean before reaching for something behind you, capturing your lips as he did that.

As yo parted, the small part of your mind still aware of your surroundings, noticed something different about the covering of the sofa, and Napoleon noticed your confusion.

“I wanted to make sure things wouldn’t be too much trouble to clean later.”

He pulled back, and you saw the thing he picked was the toy you had planned to use that night, that you thought Napoleon wouldn’t use in his urge to have you.

You had been preparing and planning for this for a while, and thought this vacation was the perfect opportunity to use it for what it had been bought for.

Although this location and urgency was not in your plans, but now both of you were too worked up to move to the bed.

“I can’t wait to see what you can do with this.” He scooted back. “But let me take care of you first.”

The last glimpse of his face you had was a teasing grin, before he bent forward, and the tip of the toy was gently inserted into you at the same time as his tongue dragged slowly against your sensitive clit.

The moment his mouth was on you, Napoleon always lost himself. His hunger for you rivaled his bloodlust. He licked and sucked at you as if he was starving, and that coupled with the toy slowly moving in and out of you, pushed your already stimulated body over the edge very fast.

You could see the reluctance in Napoleon’s eyes as he pulled away, and you, trying to catch your breath, smiled weakly at you.

“It’s quite early yet.” You forced your heavy body to the other side, trapping Napoleon under you again. “I might just give you a reward after I’m done with you.” You leaned even closer to him, whispering in his ear, “If you behave.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Napoleon laughed, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“It will depend on what you deserve.” You teased, giving him a peck on the lips.

Then you turned around, finding he had left your bottle of lube on the little table too. You picked it and turned back to your boyfriend, only for him to push himself to a sitting position and hold your wrist as soon as you opened the bottle.

“I can do that, Nunuche.”

You smirked upon noticing the blush starting to show on his face.

“You could, yes. You always did when we were preparing. Is there a reason you won’t let me take care of you instead?” You raised an eyebrow, challengingly.

Napoleon let you go, the red on his cheeks growing darker.

“You’re always tired when we start this part.”

You knew it was an excuse.

“Should I assume you do that on purpose?”

“Why does me letting you do such a thing to me make you so cheeky?” Before you could react, Napoleon grabbed you again, pulling you for a kiss. “Fine. Have it your way.”

There was still a reluctance in his voice, but you knew it was just the embarrassment. You kissed the tip of his nose and returned to your position, kneeling between his legs.

His hips twitched as you teased his hole, rubbing gently, and when you finally pushed the tip of a finger inside, you heard a muffled moan.

You looked up at him to find Napoleon covering half of his face with a hand, his eyes closed, brows furrowed. You chuckled.

“Hmm, aren’t you the one who always tells me not to hide?” You worked your finger further in and with the other hand, you removed his from his face, holding it. “Let me see you. Let me hear how you sing for me.”

Napoleon was always so quiet as he did it himself. You loved seeing how you got a reaction out of him.

You curled your finger up, finding his most sensitive spot, and that brought out a deep moan from him. You enjoyed watching him lose his composure as you finger fucked him, but he was still quite tense for more, so you scooted a little back and, just like he did to you, you bent down, licking his hard, glistening cock, your finger back into him.

As you took him into your mouth, you felt him slowly relax. And his moans grew louder, to the point he was muffling them again.

But you didn’t have time to scold him now. You ducked him harder, adding a second finger, making him buck against you.

As you felt his cock twitching and his attempts to thrust in you grew, you removed your fingers from him and switched to slow, teasing licks to his balls.

Switching your weight to the other side, you made sure you had the dildo well lubed up as you kept him at the edge. When you thought it was ready, you pulled away, receiving a groan from him.

“Does it feel that good?”

You didn’t wait for an answer to line your toy with his entrance, but then you waited to make sure he was ready to continue.

“Is this payback for earlier?” Napoleon chuckled between deep breaths. “It’s good, and I’m fine. Show me what you got.”

You thrusted forward gently, pushing just the tip inside as you stroked his cock. He came hard on your hand with a muffled cry of your name.

“Good boy. I didn’t even start and you already like it this much? Aren’t you glad you let me take over?” You patted his thigh, and Napoleon turned away, trying to hide further from your sight. “What did i say about hiding? You should set a good example.”

Napoleon groaned.

“You’re not going to make it easy for me today, are you?”

“I’m giving you a break. If you keep hiding away, then I might not go easy.”

You wouldn’t go through with that threat on his first time and he knew it, but Napoleon obeyed nonetheless.

“Are you satisfied, Nunuche?”

“Only when I’m done with you, darling. You okay to continue?”

Napoleon nodded, and you tentatively pushed into him, just a little further, before pulling back.

You went slowly with him, watching his reactions closely, both because you enjoyed this rare opportunity, and to make sure he was fine.

His moans were still quite contained, but his hands moved around inquietly, scratching the sofa wherever they stopped for a moment.

When the toy was all the way in, you stopped again, firmly pumping his already hardening cock, until he was impatiently trying to thrust against you again.

“Are you that eager for me to fuck you?” You leaned over him, giving him a tentative thrust in this new position.

“I am eager for you.” Napoleon pulled you into a kiss, and as he did, he tried to thrust back, inviting you to move again.

And you did. At first, slowly and a little clumsily, but as you started to build a rhythm, you went faster.

His hand roamed your body, seeking to cater to your pleasure in turn. Your mixed moans were a sexy tune, amidst his words of encouragement.

Then his touch slid down, but as they took hold of your hips, you slowed down and Napoleon pulled his hands away with a groan, returning to exploring and teasing you.

“Good boy.” You whispered again, kissing his neck as you watched his face redden again. “You’re… taking it so well.”

A few more thrusts and Napoleon was trying to hold you again, but this time he automatically pulled back.

“...Harder…” he pleaded.

You did your best to comply, adjusting your body and pounding on him as fast and hard as your lack of experience with this would allow.

It didn’t take long for that to finally pull another orgasm out of him, even more powerful than the first, and you followed soon after. Napoleon hugged you to him, holding you in a strong grip. You could hear how hard his heart was beating, mixed with his heavy pants. Surely you were in the same state.

“That’s it. That’s my… sweet boy.” You whispered. His hold relaxed as the pleasure that overtook both of you started to wash away. “You did well.”

“You did well too.” Napoleon caressed your head. “It was… better than I expected.” You pulled back, enough to kiss him, before pulling out of him. “You can leave things for me to clean up.”

“No. Let me do this today.” Luckily Napoleon had thought about it too and left a piece of cloth with the toys and you didn’t have to go get one.

You cleaned the mess you ended up doing with the lube first, then the remainder of his pleasure off him, then you finally took the toy off yourself, placing it and the cloth aside.

“How do you feel?” Napoleon sat up, and you straddled him.

“Like you will never let me live this one down. I’m sure I made for such a pathetic sight.”

“There is nothing pathetic about enjoying something different between the two of us. Nor in being conflicted about it. This power switch felt strange for me too, but I think both of us needed it. We learned something new. And I wouldn’t mind there being a next time, if you would like to as well.”

Napoleon pulled you to him and, to your surprise, stood up with you in his arms.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that either.” He kissed you. “But for now, I think we are in need of another bath. You can keep your promise to me tomorrow. Today, I would like to just have a romantic dinner and a relaxing night with you.”

You looped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself up to kiss him.

“I would like that too.”

Tag List: @tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya,

@eventinelysplayground, @queengiuliettafirstlady

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[horse-girl-anthy]

Prince/Princess: The Gendered Landscape of Revolutionary Girl Utena

below the cut, I discuss how the prince/princess structure relates to gender, how the dichotomy plays out in the relationships between Utena, Anthy, and Akio, and how the film takes the themes of the show to the next level.

Prince/Princess as Metaphor for Gender

prince and princess are incredibly important categories in the world of RGU, and yet, they are difficult to pin down, making them a good parallel for gender itself. "prince," a simple term at first glance, takes on different meanings throughout the story. to list some of the most important ones that come to mind, prince can mean the desirable male, wielder of power, patriarch, actor, savior, and martyr. equally, princess can have many different meanings or expressions. it has often been remarked that prince and princess require each other, so for each definition of prince, there is a matching definition of princess: the desirable female, possession, spectator, subordinate, valued, saved, protected.

none of these meanings are individually bad. the dynamic of oppressor/oppressed is certainly not good, but it is still helpful to have language to describe it. however, therein lies the true problem of the prince/princess structure: it is totalizing, collapsing contradictory meanings into each other.

like gender in the real world, then, prince/princess are important, all-encompassing categories which shape social systems, and yet, it is almost impossible to make an ontologically true statement about them; they vary by situation. making a claim about their meaning creates a false reality or dissonance.

for instance, both the "male" and the "prince" are defined as active, while the "female" and the "princess" are defined as passive. however, these definitions do not often hold up in reality. what is important is that the definitions are nonetheless accepted within society. in the real world, a man may be classified as feminine for perceived passivity and then punished for stepping outside his social role. in the system of RGU, Dios failed to be a perfect, selfless savior. his punishment was rerouted to Anthy, a girl who made a choice to save someone she loved. the system, unable to handle an active princess, created a third category of "witch." although the social roles of prince and princess were unfit to capture the lived experience of Dios and Anthy, this contradiction was resolved by scapegoating an individual.

"You Could Never Be My Prince, Because You're My Brother"

Dios never answers Utena's question in the above exchange, yet to the audience, the answer is obvious, especially after the Shadow Girl play from earlier in the episode: Dios is Anthy's brother.

as with many sibling relationships in RGU, Anthy and Akio's sexual development created a rift between them. there may have been a time when their mutual care made Dios feel like a prince and Anthy feel like a princess; children don't need to consider the implications of prince/princess to the same extent that adults do. once they grow up, they find that another facet of prince/princess is sexuality, specifically heterosexuality.

infamously, Anthy tells Utena in the final episode of the show that she could never have been her prince, because she's a girl. was a similar cruel reality imparted to Dios? although Anthy does not need a fairy tale prince, a romantic partner, in order to be saved, "male lover" is nonetheless an inextricable part of the prince.

according to Dios, Anthy needs a prince to be freed from eternal torment, and yet "prince" is an impossibility. not only would a person attempting to be a prince be held to inhuman standards, but they would also face the contradictions in meaning inherent to the category. in a twisted way, perhaps the incest between Akio and Anthy is born from this very fact. Akio, in trying to be her prince, becomes her entire world, her brother and her lover, her patriarch and her champion.

however, it is obvious that he is not only doomed for failure but is also doing her harm. Akio is not someone capable of pushing against the system, defining himself and his relationships. his weakness became his princehood.

The Girl Who Wanted To Be a Princess and the Girl Who Wanted To Be a Prince

RGU never answers the question that it asked in the very first episode of the show: whether it was really such a good idea for Utena to try to become a prince. similarly, whether Dios's claim that only a prince can save Anthy is left open, ambiguous.

to examine this issue, it's important to consider what prince/princess mean to Utena and Anthy, in the confines of their relationship. Utena's motivation for the entire show is to be a prince, but she doesn't seem to know exactly what she means by it. when asked to explain in the first episode, she states that she "wants to be a noble prince who saves princesses." she will be tested on this claim throughout the narrative.

Anthy is more opaque than Utena. however, it's clear that, as disillusioned and dead inside as she may be, "prince" still holds a great deal of meaning for her, and the character is designed to be the obvious "princess." in his episode 2 commentary, Ikuhara wrote:

Anthy is another Utena. In the initial stages of planning, I thought of the main character as someone who wanted to be a prince, but at the same time also wanted to remain a princess. However, I decided to divide that personality into two different characters. What did “also wanting to remain a princess” mean? I would agonize over the expression of Anthy for the entire series.

Anthy's desire to be a princess is a rarely commented on aspect of her character. she may not believe that she will ever get what she wants, but she still wants it. in fact, the entire structure of Ohtori could be viewed as a way to maintain her status as (false) princess, as much as it maintains Akio's status as (false) prince.

to be a princess, Anthy needs a prince. what exactly would she hope to gain from a prince? in an interview, Ikuhara and Takemiya Keiko had the following exchange:

Takemiya: What is a prince, for a girl? Ikuhara: Someone you can entrust your core self to.

this quote helps to narrow down Anthy's motivation to be a princess. I view Anthy as a character very aware of the workings of the system. the best way I can put it is that she is aware of this fact: in the world of Ohtori, a princess is the only kind of girl worthy of being saved. she needs a "prince she can believe in," and crucially, her prince needs to see her as "worthy of protection."

Utena and Anthy's backstory in episode 34 sets up these themes perfectly. for Utena, being a prince meant being "a person capable of saving others," specifically Anthy. to Anthy, being a princess meant someone being horrified by her suffering and trying to stop it.

however, even from this beginning, the story is not so simple as prince/princess. although Utena is certainly enamoured with Dios, the person who truly inspires her to become a prince is Anthy herself. she is shocked out of her despair by Anthy's suffering and moved to tears by her selfless sacrifice. sacrifice, itself, is on the "prince" side of the equation. as stated previously, Anthy was punished for her transgression, but this is exactly what Utena chooses to emulate.

The Foolish Pursuit of Ideals

prince and princess are amorphous categories that are impossible to embody; they are ideals which do not exist in reality. that is precisely why Utena's drive to be a prince is so foolish. and yet, creator Ikuhara praised this foolishness, saying that those close-minded adults who judge her as childish are actually the foolish ones.

considering this issue, it's interesting to ask if it's possible to live without ideals. an ideal is a concept, a human method of understanding reality, but all too often, our ideals replace the world around us; we watch the shadows on the wall of the cave and take them for reality.

various religions and philosophies instruct their followers to cast off concepts and live only in the real world. the problem is, it's not that simple. characters like Akio, Juri, or Anthy, who supposedly don't believe in ideals, are still ruled by them. there's a kind of false maturity in pretending to be above the rest of humanity, who are still caught up in illusions.

ideals tend to be very important in Ikuhara's works, not because they're necessarily good or real, but because the reactionaries who eschew them have nothing better to offer, and there is something to be gained by pursuing them.

Utena striving to become a prince is the driving force of the entire narrative. although the ideal is already defined by the world around her, she attempts to decide for herself what it means. in doing this, she is maintaining her right to be herself, not someone dictated by the system. by testing out her ideals in reality, she gains insight and is able to try new approaches which allow her to effect change.

thus, even if Utena is chasing after an ideal, she is chasing one of her own choosing. after falling into spiritual darkness when faced with mortality, she is reborn through her desire to save Anthy. that is the core of herself she tries to hold on to throughout the series.

in episode 12, Anthy is moved by Utena's nobility, briefly seeing Dios in her. however, the same shot of her eye widening reoccurs in episode 38, this time without Dios. Utena manages to shine through the veil of the ideal through her own reckless pursuit of it.

however, that's not to say that Utena's idealism is "correct." whatever personal meaning prince and princess hold to Utena and Anthy, they still exist in a wider social system. even if Utena's intentions are good, she ends up falling into the paternalistic, egoistic aspects of the prince.

"prince" wasn't the right word for what Utena and Anthy were seeking (and maybe there were never any right words; language is, after all, a system of meaning which rests on symbolic representations of reality). Anthy may have needed a prince in the sense of "person she can believe in," but prince comes a lot of other baggage. as Anthy informs Utena in the final episode, it's impossible for a girl to be a prince, as prince is defined as male. equally, it's impossible for Anthy to be a princess, since she has been deemed a witch.

however, despite Anthy making it very clear to Utena that she is a witch, Utena still choses to approach her as someone worthy of being saved. and even though Utena fails at being a prince when she lets Anthy fall from the heavens, she does become someone Anthy can believe in. one way of looking at it is that Utena and Anthy made each other prince and princess in that moment, causing a contradiction which shattered the system. but they didn't meet as prince and princess--they met as human beings and equals.

Adolescence of Utena: Escape from Concepts

in the show, Utena goes to her metaphorical grave still apologizing for not being a prince. Anthy is freed of her social role and sets out in search of Utena, but the audience is given relatively little insight into what might come next. the film picks up where the show left off; while the show explored the importance of ideals as much as their dangers, the film casts them off fully, heading out into a brave new world.

a crucial difference between the film and the show is that in the film, the prince holds no power outside the minds of Utena and Anthy. as in, there is nothing holding them in Ohtori but their own decision to walk out. in the show, that option was not open to Anthy until the end, and Utena was not going to leave without Anthy.

the show's extended meditation on ideals and systems allowed for the film to start with a clean slate. its social landscape is surreal and unmaterialistic to the extreme, focusing solely on the internal worlds of the characters. at the start of the film, Utena and Anthy are not ready to graduate, as it were, because they have not accepted the death of the prince. after Akio's body is exhumed, Utena descends into the underworld, meeting the ghost of Touga. of the scene, Ikuhara said:

The reason why Utena thinks she killed the prince is because Utena realized that Touga was dead. By realizing that Touga was dead, Utena realized that she no longer needed a prince. And that was her departure from the girl's world of dependence (on the prince) into a grownup's world.

the prince never existed, was dead the whole time, and there is no life in continuing to pursue that ideal. Utena puts to rest her desire to have and to be the prince, while Anthy's eyes are opened to the world beyond Ohtori. her relationship with Utena empowers her to defy Akio, and the two race away into a pathless land. dummies bearing their names take their place in Ohtori, implying that they have left behind even their names, their identities. they are no longer prince or princess, masculine or feminine, male or female; those categories have ceased to hold meaning. they are heading into a world without concepts, where nothing is preordained.

many of the characters in show want to "return to a place they came from." however, what they want is to return to a point in time, a memory which may not even be accurate. at the end of the film, Utena and Anthy are not regressing back into childhood, but reclaiming their true selves, the core of their being which exists regardless of socialization, free from the past and open to the future.

[turtleybeachin]

Three Times He Realized He Might Be in Love, and One Time He Was Caught

Pairing: Solomon x Female MC Word Count: 710 Tagging: Fluff, Magic, Written in Season 3

Just a fluffy little character study of Solomon that I wrote entirely to indulge myself. Female pronouns for an unnamed MC who is excited to be capturing the magic in her world, and reintroducing it to his.

1.

Magic had long been his passion, but seeing it through her eyes? It reawakened the wonder and joy of it anew. After centuries of working with magic, it could lose some of its charm -- sure, it was still fascinating and there were always new spells, new potions, new ideas to unlock, but like any task it became everyday work.

But she watched the cherry tree bloom with parted lips, eyes wide and sparkling, cheeks flushed as she bounced on the balls of her feet. A common trick to him was miraculous to her, still new and exciting. She gave a bright laugh and stepped closer to the tree, reaching up to gently brush her fingers against a bloom as if to confirm it was real.

She spun to him and grinned so wide her eyes crinkled half-shut. "Solomon! It's-- you're amazing!"

He laughed and flushed, delighted at her delight. "And you're too generous, my adorable apprentice. You can do the same, you know."

2.

Was this how the brothers felt all the time, he wondered? This magnetism, this need to orbit her, to earn one of her smiles and feel the full weight of her attention? She was captivating enough in small bursts, but spending every single day at her side, working with her and watching her learn and discover her capabilities...

"Solomon!" she gasped, and he refocused with a start. "Look! I did it!! I'm doing it!!"

And there it was, that smile that made his heart squeeze and his breath catch. That absolute delight, the awe at being able to do what he considered a simple parlor trick. He couldn't help but beam back at her. "So you are," he agreed. "Your form is flawless."

She laughed and blushed, the light fizzling out as she squirmed in delight at his praise. "Well, that's a compliment to you, master."

3.

Spending long days and nights lost in his studies was nothing new. Spending long days and nights lost in his studies with someone beside him, equally absorbed in the task? That was new. And she was smarter about it than he was. You'd think after centuries of this he'd have learned tricks to keep himself grounded on his own, but perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps it was because he was so alone that he didn't care to be grounded. Why take wellness breaks when you're immortal and a lack of food won't kill you? Why sit back and focus on the present when you had nobody to share your discoveries with and nothing in the present to enjoy?

She set alarms on her phone, and every two hours they would be forced to surface from their deep dives to stretch and get a snack and some water, to talk together about what they'd been reading and where their minds had gone and what ideas it inspired. Every two hours he would get the pleasure of her attention, her laughter and passion and delight, her insights and her questions.

The breaks were as exciting as the work. And that was new.

+ 1

Ah, he was quite positive that she caught him on camera at the worst possible moment.

She was on a video call with the brothers, animatedly telling them all about the spells she'd learned in the last month and demonstrating some tricks with pure delight. He wasn't in frame, not intended to be part of the call (they did not care about him, which he understood completely and took no offense to), and was content to merely watch his apprentice as she basked in the oohs and ahhhhs of the brothers in her audience.

And then suddenly she grabbed her D.D.D. and twisted, inserting him into frame, and while he shifted his expression to a polite smile immediately he noticed the keen eyes of multiple demons narrowing in on the corner of their screen. And Asmo smirked. 

Damn them, he'd been caught with a dreamy expression on his face. She seemed oblivious, elbowing at him with a laugh and insistence he say hello, chattering about how he was a great teacher and that between him and Satan she was pretty sure she'd learned years of magic in a matter of months.

The only consolation to the blush he felt burning his face was the dusting of pink he could see over Satan's.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

What would happen if yandere America and England fell in love with someone who is their perfect match? Like they're equally as smart and powerful as them, to the point where anything they throw at her she can throw right back at them. And at first she was civil about it and politely asked them to stop and reinstated that she isn't interested, until she eventually reached her limit and warned them that she won't hesitate to fuck them over if they keep testing her. Knowing so well that she can take them on, and she's right to be brave because they actually feel like they're armwrestling themselves in this fight. Making their infatuation and want to control her even stronger.

P.S any AU with this one will do

I tried with this one and tried to have some accuracy in real life but probably missed the mark especially on Englands part but hope you still enjoy!

Going to go with a Human AU on this one because I feel like there is more room for Tit for Tat, or something like that.

Further explanation about this post because I botched it so badly lmao.

🇺🇸 America 🇺🇸

As he dressed himself for the day a permanent smile was plastered to his face. He was ready to claim his prize after several months of meticulous planning was about to unfold. He’s been daydreaming about being able to kiss you on the lips for the longest time, and the longer you play, keeping away from him fried his nerves. He bit down on his thin lips in anticipation. How would you react? Would you escape the strings that he’d try to attach this time, or would he be able to have you caught in his trap finally? He prayed to god that you wouldn’t be smart enough to outdo him this time. He ignored the doubts in his mind and stayed positive. After all he was a powerful government official just like you, but stronger right? Right?

One of his assistants knocked on the door of his room in the white house.

“America, sir, the security detail is here to escort you to the airport, and as requested, your 50 McGriddles with an extra large Coke are ready as well.” He knocks him out of the multitude of thoughts that surrounded you. He hated but loved at the same time that you gave him the difficult challenge of capturing you. Even though you were one of his leading diplomats in consular services in (country you want to work in), he was headed there today to discuss one of the latest incidents that happened under your watch. He was eager to see how you’d manage this latest crisis. This one had to work. Treason was the latest and most diabolical plan he’d set in place. Knowing full well that the United States did not take such offenses lightly. Yes, this was going to be the moment that the spider would have its meal. No way in hell could you escape this time.

In his previous attempts to get you displaced from your position as the Consul General, he tried to have an entire swath of Americans complain about your work ethic and the general maintenance of the Consulate in (country). Everything from the improper issuing of passports, visas, and lack of training for the newer staff. In short, you are failing in your duties on the ground in your country to provide adequate services to the citizens of the United States. Frustratingly within only a span of 24 hours, you were able to find the faults in his plan and figure out that the documents had been falsified, claims were fake, and ensured that all passports and visas were accurate and up to date. He fucking hated that you were a diligent worker and effective problem solver. He had to up the ante.

When you had a meeting with him and the rest of your staff at the consulate, you’d given him a verbal confirmation that you knew it was him trying to mess with you.

“As stated, a few of the affected citizens stated that there were some persuasion and unconfirmed accusations that have strong connections to this being an internal issue. Hopefully, whatever is going on in the homeland will not continue.” You pointedly look at him with your cold (eye color) clash with his calm blues that showed no hints of guilt within them.

Next came the documentation leak of his own citizens. It hurt him to do his citizens this way, but it was worth the sacrifice to be able to have you in his arms. A few eggs had to be broken in order to obtain you. This was much more egregious and as such much harder to evade the webs that were being spun in order to apprehend you.

“My cyber security team has detected vulnerabilities and updated our continuous parameter monitoring. However, we did have issues over the past week with numerous cyber attacks compromising a few of the files that we have within our database.…” You caught onto the flicker of joy that welled within those pools of blue. Your heavenly voice tickled his ears; your failings at keeping people’s private information were going to lead you right into his arms once you were-

“We came close to having a massive leak within our systems. I collaborated with the FBI and CIA to aid me and my staff to update and train all on new procedures, and updating our systems for the maximum protection of the citizens of the United States.” You shuffle your paper loudly as if it were a gavel laying down your latest declaration. “There should be no further interruptions, within my consulate Mr. America.” Finally, addressing him in a highly harsh tone. Most in the room took it as you being annoyed that within a span of a month, you’d begun to have these strange issues that no other consulate in the world that was run by the United States was having. You knew damn well that it was the man at the other end of the table smirking who was testing you for whatever reason. You made it clear that you needed him to stop his foolishness. You had more important matters to attend to.

“You can call me Alfred, babe. Don’t be so stuffy. You’re doing great! I’m proud that you’re doing so great.” The compliment had more condescension than praise.

Yet again, his webs failed to enrapture you and connect ties to you. And it made his blood boil that you knew how to leverage all avenues of his own government to keep you out of his arms reach. Alfred still smirked at this latest evasion pretending that he was only feeling pride that you had outsmarted him. He adored your passion and wit but hated it even more so now. A sudden technological leak would have thrown most citizens. But, not you; you were not like most citizens. You graduated from Princeton with your Ph.D. in Public and International Affairs. You were determined to show your mettle and your intellect, which was proving to be difficult for Alfred to connect even a single silk thread to you.

‘Damn it, Y/N, why couldn’t you be stupid?! Why couldn’t you be easier to catch off guard? I’m into it but jeez woman that brain of you’re is alluring and annoying!!’ He angrily moves his pen back and fourth on the yellow writing pad he was given to take notes during the meeting.

“That concluded the end of this meeting. If you have any further questions or concerns you all have my email and phone number. Dismissed.” Pleased everyone vacates the room to head for dinner. You hoped to just rest your eyes. You’d been up for the last 72 hours putting out the latest fire that Alfred had attempted to set within your consulate, and you couldn’t wait to be in bed. As you made your way to the exit, Alfred sped up behind you and firmly gripped your shoulder.

“Wait Y/N I’d like to get dinner with you. Care to join me this evening?” As if he didn’t just try to undercut you moments ago.

“No, I’m tired. I have to go get some sleep. I’ve been at it for the past couple of days putting out fires.” You turn to him with an accusing gaze in your eyes. “And I have better things to do than put up with the games of a petulant child.”

“Oh Y/N are you accusing me of something?” His heroic smile seemed more villainous than anything else. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“No, but I would like the games to cease. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to sleep.” You jerk your shoulder away from him forcefully, indicating that you are over the bullshit. A shock of sadness and longing wrenched his heartstrings. Why did his love have to be so cold to him? The sound of your heels clicking further echoed in his ears.

Was he really that repulsive to you? Why couldn’t you see him as your hero that just wanted you to be home and not in (country)? Why couldn’t you see that you belonged to him?

Why?

It was time for him to pull out the big finale. He was determined to have you one way or the other.

Alfred pulled out all the stops in his final attempts to make you cave and lose your job as the Consul General.

He called a secret meeting between the head of the CIA, FBI, and your other heads within your consulate that worked directly under you. It was time to put an end to your clever circumventions. He needed you to warm his bed, dammit; he was tired of it being so frigid at night. Anyone that questioned his motives for having you or stood by you and your tenacity was swiftly removed from the meeting and sent to Guantanamo Bay while he had put in place a plan where a double would fill in their shoes.

“But, America Sir, Y/N is the best Consul General that (country names) office has ever had! For the first time in decades, everything is running smoothly! Why ruin that? For some self-serving ego? Don’t you give a damn about your citizens!?” One of your vice consuls shouted out, indignant and the stupidity of the immortal country to have you be tired of treason and extradited to the United States.

“This is ludicrous, Mr.America! Y/N is one of your best! Why the hell are you trying to set her up for treason!” The man in his late 30s practically sprang from his chair in rage.

America’s haunting frown, an ominous glint in his eyes hinted that the two would be in for a horrendous future. Regardless, the two vice consul men didn’t sit back down in their seats. They were going to stand by their leader.

“Well, I the two of you like being waterboarded.” He snapped his fingers and swiftly, the two were removed from the room. “Anyone else?” Three consular agents slapped their IDs on the table and willingly accepted their awful fates with the other two. America raised an eyebrow.

‘Damn. She really does have a great deal of influence. Now really is the best time to get her out of here.’

“Now that, that’s settled onward with the plan.”

You’d received an extremely concerning text from your consul members that America hadn’t yet apprehended. Letting you know that evacuating the country was the best thing for you, and you had to do it NOW before the sun had a chance to rise. You tossed all of your necessary documents and withdrew all your money from (country’s bank); you had to pull a favor from some of the (pick a nation that you’d collab with) diplomats for a favor to hide you and help you obtain a new ID and change your entire persona. You explain that you would be framed and that America was up to some devious bullshit. They gladly lent a hand since you’d aided some of their citizens when they were in a pinch. You didn’t turn back, but you knew you’d always be on the run with America always pining for you.

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 England 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

This week had been trying for Arthur. He stirred his spoon continuously in his porcelain tea cup for the past ten minutes. He stared off into the distance. His head was abuzz with thoughts of nothing but you and your many schemes to avoid the strings that he tried to tie to you. After all you were a perfect doll, perfect, clever, and stunningly beautiful. He, to some degree, wished that you were much more dense and docile; perhaps then it wouldn’t be so hard if you weren’t a top grad at Cambridge and adept at managing the political chaos that he orchestrated from the shadows.

This puppet master was determined to attach his string so that he could be in control.

The latest ploy to obtain you involved a public political stunt organized to get the public to have an amount of distrust within you as an ambassador. He called in a few favors from Italy and from some of his MI6 to make a public outcry of you not doing your job in aiding them from being detained.

“Ms. (Last Name), what is going on why have you and your team been so slow to respond to the requests of the 10 detained U.K. citizens who’ve been pleading for your help? Have you no dignity?” A report flings an accusation in your face when you first left your apartment in (country name). Clicks of several different cameras and other people who were clamoring for the scoop to make headlines in various publications across the globe.

“Will you be stepping down soon? There have been a few rumors that a few of the heads would like for you to have an official persona non grata to be in the process!” Another shouted at you to spark your attention and to give you anxiety. However it did the opposite, it made your blood boil but you reamied composed and simply walked away from the mass of reporters that seemed bent on hunting you down. You picked up your pace and hopped into the SUV that one of your fellow counselors was driving. You were thankful that you had a close-knit team within your consulate.

“Soooo, there have been crazy rumors spreading on TikTok…”

“Of fucking course.” You roll your eyes and practically shout out. “That’s how all the craziest shit gets started. Let’s just get ahead of all this and figure out what’s actually going on.”

“Well, I have few theories on some of the higher-ups or one in particular that has been gunning for you mate.”

“Oh god yeah, not him. I absolutely hate him. Kirkland.” Your eye twitches somewhat in having to mention him. The bastard had tried to repremand you publically to embarrass you but you put a stop to it real quick. He’d tried to accuse you of favoring your host country you resided in currently when it came to talks about trade deals. When you pointed out there were obvious flaws in his logic that deals in (country) were precarious due to him being greedy in previous years. That in turn made it much more difficult for you to make reasonable concessions that didn’t spark outrage in the nation you were in and tend to the demands of the United Kingdom. You mind wandered back to one of the first times you had to be combative with the prick.

‘Balancing is all a part of being a diplomat, along with sometimes having to make difficult decisions that not everyone will understand at the present moment. Mr. Kirkland. Besides, I was able to obtain usage of those ports and got a better deal on exports so that the citizens of the U.K. won’t have to pay so much for certain goods. We may have to cut them a better deal on precious metals and petrol but cutting good deals is my job afterall. Not to simply plunder places.’ You shuffle your papers and give him a severe side-eye after he tried to accuse you of not doing what’s best for the U.K. in the long run. ‘After all at least I’m able to maintain positive relationships with others unlike you.’ Not even trying to be subtle about your disdain for him and his continued interference in your responsibilities. It wasn’t the first time during a meeting that he’s tried to undercut you.

You remember the burning heat from his glaring green eyes was intense, it felt as if there were lasers aimed directly at your back. However, you didn’t honour his gaze. You simply marched out with the rest of your consulate staff to continue on.

On the inside, Arthur loved the challenge and it made him want to fawn over you more. The line between love and hate was insanely thin for him. On the one hand, he wanted to come up with several scathing quips to cut you down; on the other, he loved the fact that you were bold enough to talk back to a higher-up like him. It was quite the thrill. He wondered if you’d maintain that type of energy in the bedroom. He didn’t want to push you any further, considering he understood he had angered you enough, and it was quite clear that he had obvious feelings for you. Not all of which were entirely clear.

You being weary and annoyed by him was an understatement. You outright hated him, and it was obvious by the venom laced in your words. He simply had to resort to telling his fairies and other magical friends of his lovesick woes while he schemed other ways to drive you to him.

When you finally arrive at the consulate building, you rush in, dodging some of the other reporters.

“Everyone to the main meeting room now! We’ve got a crisis situation to handle! Security, no reporters are to come into the building until we come up with a proper strategy in place!” You frantically try to gather everyone and grab your work laptop to estimate how viral the situation was on the international stage. You planned on making a public statement within the next hour to get in front of the rumors.

All guards rush to secure all of the entry points while they diligently wait for your next commands.

From the comforts of his balcony as he continued to stir his now cold earl grey tea. England checked the news for how the situation was progressing in (country you’re a diplomat in). His green eyes glowed with anxiety and small sparks of joy. It was easy to persuade the hearts of men with emotional fervor, especially when the crisis actors he hired were good at appealing to a population's pathos.

Your (eye color) almost welled with tears when you saw that the videos had already reached 10 million views and counting worldwide. News sites like attn, The New York Times, BBC, South China Moring Post, and Deutsche Welle have already published pieces about the 10 political prisoners who claimed that you denied helping the U.K. citizens in their desperate time of need.

“Oh fuck me sideways.” You felt sick. This was the first time that the situation had ever gotten away from you this badly. It would take you weeks if not months to get out of this. The worst part is that your phone was ringing and it was from the high commission in the U.K.

“They’re coming for her job oh jolly. Ahahahaha.” Arthur was reading the email that had been sent out. The persona non grata he requested had been granted.

“Y/N are you okay?” All of the other ministers and counselors were looking at you as the color drained from your face.

Before you had a chance to react the doors of the meeting room had been flung open and some of the royal guards were there to retrieve you and extradite you back to back to the United Kingdom to be tried.

“Ambassador (First Name) (Last Name) you must step down and head back with us, the royals have commanded you to do so. If you resist it will only make things far more difficult for you.”

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Common Grounds Chapter 9

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: PIV sex, sex against a desk, oral sex (f receiving), rimming, PLOT.

Summary: Marcus tries to talk to you about a work problem. That is, until the two of you get distracted. Again.

A/N: You know it's a Penny fic because they stop mid-conversation for some good old fashioned ass eating. Marcus Pike eats ass, folks. I'm gonna die on that hill. Anyways here have a chapter of this. I SWEAR I'm gonna finish it and I DO have a plot. LOL. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf who read over this and convinced me that it's good.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Have you ever done any exhibitions?”

“N-No, why–”

“Would you like to?”

Narrowing your eyes in confusion, you ask, “What do you mean?”

Marcus purses his lips. “Well…” he begins hesitantly.

“You just said it was a work problem,” you point out when he doesn’t continue. “Like, an FBI thing.”

Marcus nods, a little smile playing at his lips. “Yeah. An FBI thing.”

“And you’re an Art Crimes Detective,” you say, stroking your chin in an exaggerated show of thinking. “You want to put on an art show to… what, lure the bad guys in? Are they art thieves? Are they gonna try and steal my–”

“C-Can we slow down a little?” he says, looking at you with equal parts amusement and nerves.

“Sorry.” You duck your head sheepishly. “I-I just think your job is cool.”

Marcus’s face breaks into a wide grin. With a little hum of quiet laughter, he pulls you into his chest and kisses you sweetly on the forehead. 

“I think it’s cool, too,” he chuckles softly. “But the problem is, I can’t really tell you any details about the case unless you agree to help first.”

“I agree,” you say immediately.

Marcus blinks down at you, his smile fading and worry etching itself into the little lines on his forehead. “Shit. Fuck. This was a bad idea, I–”

“Why? I could do it.”

“I have no doubts,” he says solemnly, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “But you understand why I’m reluctant to make my girlfriend an FBI collaborator.”

“Mmm, say it again.”

“My girlfriend,” Marcus growls playfully, “who is looking far too sweet this morning, all tousled and wearing only a shirt.”

“I’m a mess,” you whisper, even as his mouth descends to capture yours.

“You look well-fucked,” Marcus whispers back, just before your lips meet.

His kisses, just as they were last night, are electric. Sparks shoot up and down your spine, making your back arch and pushing the two of you closer together. Marcus responds, his hand winding around to the base of your spine to pull you even closer, his other hand still resting on your cheek, guiding you in the kiss.

“Not… nearly well-fucked enough,” you sigh in between kisses.

“Excuse me?” he teases. “You saying I wasn’t thorough enough last night?”

“You were very thorough,” you simper. “But that was last night. What about this morning?”

“Insatiable,” Marcus murmurs against your mouth.

“Is that a problem?”

“Only in that you might find out my stamina has a limit,” he jokes.

“Are we anywhere near that limit right now?”

The hand still resting at your lower back suddenly surges downward to grab a rough palmful of your ass. “Absolutely not,” he growls.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you ask coyly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Marcus whispers under his breath. “Any objections to me bending you over this desk right here?”

“Not at all,” you answer breathlessly.

The words barely have time to escape your lips before you’re being turned and pressed down onto your paint-splattered desk. Despite the dominance afforded to Marcus in this position–standing over you with his hand splaying across your spine–he’s achingly soft and tender. His fingertips trail over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake and making you squirm under his touch. He takes his time; after the fervent collision last night, borne of weeks of tension, Marcus seems to be content in patiently exploring you with his hands this morning. He maps out which places make you shiver, and which ones make you squirm ticklishly. When he finally hooks his fingers under the band of your underwear, you feel him kneel down behind you to better allow him access to the skin of your thighs as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs. 

Once removed, his hands travel back up, and you’re so focused on the feel of the way his palms caress your calves, the backs of your knees, your thighs, that the unexpected feel of his tongue on you from behind makes you squeak in surprise.

“I–oh!” you exclaim as Marcus lathes his tongue over your folds. “Y-You don’t–you don’t have to–”

“Shh,” is the only reply that comes from between your legs. 

He eats you messily. This angle–the way he’s kneeling behind you, and you can’t see him–makes the act feel downright salacious. His thumbs are pulling you apart just underneath your cheeks, his nose alarmingly close to–to—and the heat rising to your face at the proximity of his face to—fuck, it makes almost makes you hesitantly call out for him to stop and come fuck you, instead, but he’s groaning into you like it’s the best damn meal he’s ever had, and you press your lips shut and try to give over to the sensations without overthinking.

Your legs are shaking. You know Marcus can feel the way you’re trembling for him–he makes a pleased little sound in his throat and soothes his palms up and down the side of your thighs for a few moments before digging his thumbs back in and spreading you even wider. He starts to lick even longer stripes, reaching up, up, up until he’s flicking his tongue against the place you had been so apprehensive about his nose being so close to. 

Your head thunks roughly onto the desk when you feel the tip of his tongue dip just in slightly.

“Is this okay?” Marcus asks softly, checking in.

“I–I don’t know,” you admit truthfully. “No–no one’s ever–”

“Fuck,” he breathes–reverence in his tone. “Let me show you. I want all of you. Let me show you how much, huh?” 

“Y-Yeah,” you gasp. “Okay.”

His tongue returns again–flicking against your clit, licking through your folds, and coming up to tease your little hole over and over again until you’re only capable of whimpering pitifully into the paint-stained wood of your desk. You’re right on the precipice of an orgasm, just another little lick to your clit would send you over the edge and you think he knows it. 

You hear yourself start to beg–a soft litany of please, please, please as the pleasure reaches a plateau. Marcus must take pity on you, because he relents and buries his face at the crux of your thighs and turns all his attention onto your clit.

You fall apart for him immediately, your entire body seeming to seize with the pleasure he pulls from you. You’re still pulsing with aftershocks when you feel Marcus’s cock at your entrance, and all you can do is wail as he sheathes himself in one fluid motion. He’s loud too; you have one fleeting thought that every neighbor that shares a wall with you must know exactly how good you’re being fucked right now, but you can’t find it in yourself to care–not when Marcus’s cock is dragging out your pleasure in the most overwhelming of ways and both of you are completely lost in it.

You turn to the side, angling your head so you can watch him lose himself in you, and the sight makes your breath catch in your throat. Those warm, brown eyes are nearly black; his jaw is clenched and his lips slightly parted as he watches you take his cock over and over. His fingers dig into your hips, and when you arch your spine and start to push back against his thrusts, he makes a pained noise, his eyebrows pinching together as if the feeling pains him.

His eyes flick up, finally noticing that you’re watching him, and your eyes threaten to roll back when he pins you with that intense gaze. One of his hands leaves your hips and presses lightly against your cheek��whether to caress or to gently push you further into the desk, you can’t tell–and your lips automatically part, your tongue flicking out to seek his thumb. 

“Fuck,” Marcus hisses in response, easing the digit partway into your mouth. “That what you want?”

“Mmhmm,” you answer emphatically, lips closing around his thumb and sucking. 

As a result, you think, he starts to lose his rhythm. His thumb reaches deeper, taking over your mouth and his hips snap roughly against yours. His other hand shifts, snaking underneath you to press against your clit.

“Fuck,” he murmurs again. “Fuck, baby, you gotta cum for me, I can’t–can’t last any longer, not when you feel this good. Look so pretty beneath me like this, come on, baby, give it to me–”

His pleas fade away to a deep groan when he feels you pull up tight, just before you snap.

“That’s it,” he chants as he reaches his own end. “That’s it, that’s it–”

He buries himself into you like he could never get deep enough; his hips are flush against you, his hand pulling you closer still, his chest draping over your back. He gently withdraws his thumb from your mouth, giving you a soft kiss on the cheekbone. 

“Incredible,” he whispers softly. “You are incredible.”

You push yourself up on your elbows shakily, the tingling in your legs making you feel off-balance until Marcus’s strong arms wrap around you and hold you firmly against him. 

“Couch,” you murmur, the word ending on a soft whimper when his cock finally slips out of you. 

“Mmhmm,” he agrees, walking you the few steps over to your sofa and sinking down without giving up his hold on you. 

The two of you drift in the afterglow, watching the horizontal lines from your window blinds creep across the floor as the morning passes. You’ve never felt this content to simply exist with someone like this–no demands, no pressure, no worry that you’re not enough, or fear that you’re not wanted. From the beginning, Marcus has looked at you like you’re the only person in the room. His attention is as total as it is genuine–you’ve never once, not for a moment, felt anything other than pure, unashamed earnestness.

It’s unusual. 

Marcus is an odd paradox; every time you try to figure him out, you come up short. He’s confident and obviously secure in who he is, but he’s also so very hesitant sometimes. You think about last night–when he had nearly begged you to go upstairs before he couldn’t stop. The way he had taken you was so… intense, so all-consuming, and yet–

He pairs that ferocity with soft smiles and an almost-dorky demeanor, and you’ve never felt more safe with another person. Safe. 

“I wanna do it,” you announce after an indeterminate amount of time has passed just drifting in and out of daydreams. 

“Nnnggh?” Marcus startles slightly, and only then do you realize that his breathing had been deep and even behind you.

“Sorry,” you say softly with a smile.

With a content hum, his arms tighten around you and he buries his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder to press an open-mouthed kiss to your skin. 

“What’d you say?” he rumbles.

“Your case thing. I wanna do it. Wanna go undercover.”

Marcus clears his throat. “I-I think we need to temper some expectations, here–”

“I’m going undercover,” you repeat with a playful grin.

“You are not going undercover. I am going undercover, along with my team, at an exhibition that you would be putting on,” he says carefully.

You’re quiet for a moment. Marcus shifts anxiously behind you, and you turn in his arms, rolling over to face him. 

“...Do I get an earpiece?”

“No.”

“A radio?”

“No.”

“Do I get anything?” you ask, reveling in Marcus’s flustered expression.

“You get a security detail,” he deadpans. 

“Oh.” Your eyes flick up to his. “Is it dangerous?”

“No,” Marcus says emphatically. “Absolutely not. And we’d take every precaution. Wouldn’t take any chances with this.” He playfully taps the tip of your nose with his index finger.

“With this?” you parrot teasingly. “You mean with me?”

“You,” Marcus confirms quietly. “Us. What we–” He suddenly cuts himself off with a little self-deprecating chuckle. “Anyway, I wouldn’t ask you to do anything that wasn’t safe. We’d have a whole team of Agents on the floor and behind the scenes.”

“What about me?” you ask quietly. “What would I do?”

Marcus grins. “You sell your art.”

*

Next Chapter>>

[majorpepperidge]

So I'm going anon for this because I do not know if my thoughts will get me crucified by Pen fans, so this is me being safe.

For starters, I wanna state, when I got my physical copy of Sandrock, I already knew what I was going into when it came to Pen (and in turn, Matilda, Yan, and Miguel). I already knew they were the big bads thanks spoilers I saw, but even then, I could probably see them as bad guys a mile away (Yan is a sleazy scam artist, Matilda oozes passive aggressive southern bitch, and I say that as a southern myself. And Miguel oozes snob, and while not a villainous trait, is mainly associated with villains). So, even before knowing Pen was a villain, he already gave me major Gaston vibes so I was already kind of sus of him.

It made me very wary and kind of squint at him, but even then I was curious about his character. This man comes off as very showboaty, there had to be more. Cue me seeing his romance stuff and going "Okay so he is like a massive dork! You know, that kind of makes sense, big and tough, comes off as an ass, actually is a dork. That's a neat-" //cue the Knives Out update (i think it was that update), Pen being revealed as a bad guy and his romance dialogue mentioning he had OTHER LOVERS AND THE PLAYER WAS JUST ANOTHER NOTCH IN HIS BELT

"Nevermind you are dead to me you son of a bitch"

And while I say that, I am still curious on Pen's character, but more so in the terms of I want to punch this man as well. Something about that line has always rubbed me the wrong way. Since it feels like Pen doesn't actually care about the player. Which makes it worse since his final quest before being shipped off to prison, his last letter to the player if romance just NAILS it in the coffin but his PLATONIC LETTER MAKES PEN COME OFF AS MORE GEUINE.

Pen's romance letter comes off as just...gross and manipulative. Saying he forgives you for literally doing the right thing and not standing back and letting him destroy Sandrock. While in his platonic letter, Pen seems to see the player as his equal, mentioning how he wishes the player picked up his space punch, but was still confident in the player.

Which leads me to this, yes it took awhile to get to this: I seriously feel like, canon Pen, should have STAYED a platonic option for players. Him as a romantic partner character for players just...dose not end well, nor settle right in my stomach, especially since when you look at his lovey dovey stuff and then how he is at the end of the game, it feels Pen is luring the player, placing the rose-tinted glasses on and capturing them in his clutches. I am probably SERIOUSLY looking to much into it, and it could be just Pathea sucking at writing, which you know, I can see that, even Portia had questionable writing at times.

Now that all said, I do propose a way to make Pen's romance more interesting and less very tittering on the edge of a horrid toxic relationship (maybe). And that answer is simple: BREAK PEN'S FUCKING FAKE ASS JOCK PERSONA. It's clear from what I can tell in game, and in his end game letter, Pen can be genuine. Sure in his own assholeish way sometimes, but Pen can be a genuine person. The problem comes in the fact, from what I can tell at least, Pathea never really gives him the chance to let that shine. It would be fun to see Pen actively struggle with his duties with Duvos and the player, maybe becoming torn between Sandrock or his own nation. Or hell, have scenes where the player catches Pen overhear people talking about the horrors Duvos causes and more, and Pen seemingly so out of characterly TIRED. The man knows his nation is fucked, he knows it is a horrid broken mess that is hellbent of destroying everyone in the search of what they want, but he knows he also can't stop it. Maybe because he has had first hand experience in seeing what they could do or more. Has this become a giant rewrite idea, yeah it had but I feel like I should add it here near the end since while I want to strangle the asshat Pen is like an interesting character still that got done dirty story wise.

OKAY RAMBLING OVER, I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WORD WALL? Uh feel free to like delete this or what, idk, I just had to get my thoughts out and you seem to be the only active Pen fan I could find who I think has proposed decent rewrites or talked about how Pen is written not great sometimes? So yeah, again sorry for the word wall and uh bye

-Writing Anon

Hey, these are good thoughts anon! And I agree! Pen's writing is all over the place and I'm sure some of that can be attributed to weird localization differences/choices alongside the general clunky ending to his story. His characterization can sometimes make it hard to tell when he's lying and when he's not.

Some more time showing the depths of his character, while still keeping his dorkiness (which i believe is genuine, fight me pathea, alongside him loving the Builder and the 'multiple lovers' line was just meant to get under their skin so it'd be easier for them to hate him), and showing that maybe he DID have some internal crisis abt his bond with the Builder, romantic or plantonic, and his loyalty to Duvos. It would've been SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING to have someone like him be more of an unwilling villain. I know for my Exile AU stuff he's not as posturing/boisterous because he's not having to act anymore(and keep a lower profile to keep Duvos from sniffing him and Ray out), but it's still THERE because it's still part of him. I want to keep him being a larger-than-life cocky dork while not ignoring the sins he committed as a Knight and how he's struggling to move past it (and feel like he's worth Ray's love and loyalty despite all he did to her and Sandrock itself)

[elspethdixon]

Okay I’ve thought about this for another five minutes and now I want the MDZS/SVSSS crossover where WWX still invents his own unique ghost cultivation path, but where Madame Yu does traditional demonic cultivation because she’s a literal demon from the Abyss (the Violet Spider because she’s an actual spider demon, maybe). She fell in love with a human cultivator and entrapped him into marriage against his will and is now going to make her dissatisfaction with the human realm all Jiang Cheng’s problem.

Everyone is sure that Wei Wuxian was making all those heretical suggestions in class at Cloud Recesses because the Jiang sect are literally in bed with demons. The Jiang heir is even half-demon! And since both JC and WWX lack LBH’s magic stallion-novel protagonist halo, it means they’re both subject to extra scrutiny. JC had better be the most conventional righteous cultivator ever to overcome the suspicion caused by having demon blood and a demon mom and WWX and his “but what if?” questions aren’t helping!

This situation only heightens JC’s issues about his father favoring WWX, of course. Of course his father wishes he had a non-demonic heir. Madame Yu’s talk about how Jiang Cheng isn’t good enough for Jiang Fengmian sounds even more plausible when there’s an actual objective reason for it.

The Jiang sect leader being married to a demon/potential demonic influence in the Jiang sect is the excuse the Wens use to go after them. Jiang Cheng’s core built up by years of righteous cultivation is crushed, but luckily for him, his demon heritage means there’s another way for him to form a core.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t need to make his dramatic sacrifice, though he still does all the research hoping that he can prevent Jiang Cheng from having to resort to the demonic path. But this time around, Wen Qing isn’t willing to do the transfer, because Jiang Cheng’s half-demon body might not even accept a fully human core - his body might just consume it demon-style and then he’d be doing demonic cultivation anyway and WWX would have made the sacrifice for nothing.

Wei Wuxian still ends up captured by the Wens, gets his core crushed, and the whole burial mound + cultivating with resentful energy to survive series of events happens just like in canon. Except this time Jiang Cheng doesn’t have Wei Wuxian’s golden core. He has his own core, reformed and regrown one defeated enemy at a time, and with each battle in the Sunshot Campaign he grows more powerful.

When Wei Wuxian returns from the burial mounds, he knows what his brother has been doing as soon as he sees him, and there’s no reason not to tell Jiang Cheng and Yanli all about it. Instead of demonic cultivation driving WWX and JC apart, they bond. They’ve both taken the “wrong” path to survive, even though their paths, both called “demonic cultivation,” are very different at base, they’re equally unacceptable and tainted in the eyes of the cultivation world and there’s no reason for Wei Wuxian to separate himself from the Jiang sect. He and his ghost general become the Lotus Demon’s left and right hands.

Shijie has always been very empathetic, and her demonic heritage means she’s sensitive to resentful energy, too (said heritage is why Jin Zixun originally rejected her). She was never able to properly cultivate the righteous human way, her demon traits were too strong, and forming a core the demonic way wasn’t allowed, but for a demon it’s never too late to start - WWX has his first necromancer apprentice.

Lotus Pier will never be accepted among the other sects again, but it doesn’t matter. The Demonic Sect Leader and his necromancer siblings are unstoppable.